


An Insatiable Ache

by essenceanddescent



Series: Straining for Originality [2]
Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Better Than Canon, Dragonflies, Duct Tape, F/M, Heaven, Hell, Love, Plot, Poetry, Prophecy, Slow Burn, djinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 123
Words: 528,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essenceanddescent/pseuds/essenceanddescent
Summary: Mr. Quinlan finds himself in a most precarious situation.  Alone and imprisoned, he is forced to choose between his revenge and his very existence.ℹ️️This story follows the TV Canon loosely, taking place afterA Savage Inconvenienceand The Night Eternal.  It also uses and expands upon existing Novel/Graphic Novel canon to weave it all together.





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer 1:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>   
>  Copyright © 2017 Richelle Tallowman. All rights reserved.
> 
>  **Disclaimer 2:** This fic does contain some explicit content, but rather than mark the _entire_ fic as such, instead I've marked those chapters with warnings.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/essence_descent) | [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/strainingfororiginality) | [Tumblr](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com)
> 
> ## 
> 
> Well hello there!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ
> 
> Before you dive all in, I just wanna tackle a few things first. I've received some initial feedback that I'd like to address.
> 
> #### First
> 
> Thank you so much for stopping by to check out my fic. I appreciate each and every read that I get. This is now my second fanfic, and I plan to make it another full length story, just like the [first](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572). I hope that you've read that one first before diving into Part 2, or things might seem a bit confusing.
> 
> #### Second
> 
> For those who might assume that I have _[jumped the shark](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jumping_the_shark)_ , I'd like to address that right now, **especially those who have not read the novels or graphic novels and have _only ever watched the show_**. You see, to those people, they assume I might have lost my mind and I've run off into the celestial weeds, when in all actuality, **The Strain** jumped the shark first. I simply chose to put a fucking saddle on _said shark_ , hop on the back of it and ** _ride it to the fucking moon_**.
> 
>  *** WARNING: SPOILERS ***  
>  Let me clarify just a bit. For those who have not read The Strain novels, graphic or otherwise.
> 
> #### Things that are actually Canon:
> 
>   * Archangels (Specifically, Ozryel, Michael, Gabriel AND Raphael. They are IN the novels.)
>   * Heaven (At the end, Michael and Ozryel fly back up into the sky to return home like nothing happened on Earth, pricks)
>   * Quinlan getting nuked and disintegrating (or decapitated and THEN being disintegrated)
>   * The Master getting away with everything and being allowed to return to Heaven
>   * The Onondaga (this might shock some, but they are mentioned several times in The Night Eternal. An Onondaga brave was the Master's first body.)
>   * Prophets _and_ Prophetic dreaming. Yuuuuup. I didn't just throw this in willy nilly. And the dreaming goes entirely unexplained in the book. I guess it came from the Lumen or something? And it's Eph having them. (waaaat?)
>   * Poetry. The first words of the Strain were Setrakian mentioning a Poet and reciting some Poetry
> 

> 
> I didn't like how The Night Eternal ended, and rather than simply re-writing the ending to it, I wanted to write a story that could follow it and _fix it_.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ♪└|∵|┐♪└|∵|┘♪┌|∵|┘♪ ♪└|∵┌|└| ∵ |┘|┐∵|┘

####  ["The Old Ways"](https://open.spotify.com/track/3X66kRLlmxAprto6tGPf0y)

Loreena McKennitt

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you  
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you  
  
On a dark new year's night  
On the west coast of Clare  
I heard your voice singing  
Your eyes danced the song  
Your hands played the tune  
T'was a vision before me  
  
We left the music behind as the dance carried on  
As we stole away to the seashore  
We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair  
And with sadness you paused  
  
Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go  
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so  
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time  
And I wondered why  
  
As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea  
A vision came o'er me  
Of thundering hooves and beating wings  
In clouds above  
  
As you turned to go I heard you call my name  
You were like a bird in a cage spreading its wings to fly  
"The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew  
And I wondered why  
  
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you  
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you  
  
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you  
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you


	2. Prelude - Child of Prophecy

**Inspiration:** [Iron Poetry - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/3S4kK69Eg04QVbU7P85X0j)

## Child of Prophecy

The existence of prophecy is riddled throughout civilization's history.  Prophecies that have foretold the rise _and_ the [ fall of many great civilizations](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_F%C3%A1tima).  Ones that have forecasted simple [ boys who would become _kings_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oedipus) or [ meek girls who would lead _revolutions_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_of_Arc).  Even some of [ children who would _change the world_](http://www.maitreya.org/english/PNative%20Americans/Iroquois%20Prophecies.html).

Prophecy, as _Man_ understands it, is simply a message conveyed by one who has been deemed a _Prophet_ , and the title of _Prophet_ is administered to _anyone_ who is able to _observe_ anything that is _beyond normative human perception_.  Those with whom the deities, gods, spirits, or nature _itself_ has _decided_ to speak are all known as _Prophets_.  So, by _Man’s_ definition, **_anyone_ ** can wear this mantle, for all it takes is one of _Divinity_ to _choose_ them.

But to those who are not _Man,_ those who are _Divine Beings_ , these are [ _False Prophets_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_prophet) _._  To the world outside of _Earth_ , this title means something fundamentally more and to be a true _Prophet of Creation_ , one must actually have the talent of divination, the very act of foreseeing the future.

These _Beings of Divination_ were first known as the [ _Ishim_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishim_\(angel\)), the _Individuals_.  And, remember, where the _Eshim,_ the _Djinn_ , were created from _Fire_ and _Air_ , the _Ishim_ were created from _Water_ and _Earth_.

The _Ishim_ and the _Eshim_ were made weak but were as _free as the Hayyoth_.  While the _Creator_ was quick to learn that _fire_ proved _easy_ to control, easier to leash, easiest to snuff out, _water_ , on the other hand, proved _hopeless_ to manage and _impossible_ to cage.  It was the substance of creation itself and with that embodiment, they felt beyond divine authority.  Thus, they became known as _Those Who are Free_.

It has always been assumed that time itself is a _river_ , ever flowing but only a singular direction.  While the current can be slowed and perhaps even stopped for a short duration, the direction itself is _only one way_ ; its currents can _never_ ebb.   _What has been done cannot be undone ... but what has yet to occur can_ **_always_ ** _be changed._

The _Creator_ watched as the _Ishim_ , being freed creatures of _water_ , could ford that river easily.  Within their Earthly dreams, they could feel the undertows and swim in and out of its depths like none other before.

In the beginning, only two were created and both processed this _unintended_ sight.  While Adam was kind and true, Lilith was stronger, yet bitter and deceiving.  In the wake of her eventual destruction, after causing the fall of its youngest, the _Creator_ removed _divinity_ from the _Ishim_ entirely as it proved dangerous if left unchecked _._  They could not look ahead down the river of time if they had no eyes with which to see.  These _blinded Ishim_ became known simply as _Man, The Powerless._

The gift of _Divination_ itself is so very precious that not even the _Creator_ itself possesses it.  The knowledge of this would shock most, as it is quite easy to assume the _Creator_ should and does _know everything_.  Regardless of how false this assumption is, most have made it, even the _First Born_ and it never made attempts to correct this presumption, for if one wishes to remain in complete control, why would it say otherwise?

But it takes little conjecture to realize that if this _was_ true, then it would have been entirely _without all fault, any kind of flaw_.   **_That it was utterly infallible_**.  Though some continue to believe that lie, the implications of this are quite sinister.  For if it had known, then all of the tragedies of the past would have been on purpose.  Every painful loss and _fall_ would have been _by design_.   _The Light Bringer_ , _The Right Hand_ , the 200 beautiful _Grigori_ souls and their equally lovely children.  It wouldn’t have needed to cleanse the Earth with a merciless deluge and … it would have know about that _treacherous woman_ before she burned its _garden_.

 **No**.  The past is filled with _too many mistakes_ for any of it to be **_by design_**.  And a little over two thousand years ago, as control seemed to be spiralling out of the _Creator’s_ grasp, after the **_most powerful prophet_ ** _ever born_ was cast from the _Earth_ and the **_fall of its most precious first born_ ** loomed close on the horizon, it called [ _Sandalphon_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandalphon) into its presence for the first time in a millennium.  And since _that day_ , neither have been heard from again.

The concerns over this ran rampant.   _Sandalphon_ was not just any _angel_.  She was _the Protector of Unborn Children_ , the strongest of all the [_Cherubim_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherub), the wheel within the wheel.  She was once sent to _Well of Souls_ to be reborn on _Earth_ as the _Ishim_[ _Elijah_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elijah) and it was _she_ who was known for _the most feared prophecy_ in all of _Creation ..._

#### That there would be a Nephil born from the _First_.  That this child would bear _his mark_ , but not be bound by _his laws_ and that this child would lead to **_the their fall._**

 

* * *

 

> **Inspiration:** [ Anarin - Really Slow Motion ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3SbJykqoCkdC8vfkWNSgY0)

 

_June 20th, 1984_

Standing under the giant willow tree, he watched the tiny girl playing across the street, as he had done _so very many times before_.  The _Mother_ surveyed her from the kitchen window randomly, but generally gave little thought to the child that bounded with determination in the front yard, darting back and forth in front of the flowers.

If he were _a man_ , he would have had to worry about strangers taking notice of his obvious interest in the golden-haired child, but he _knew_ that only _she_ could see him.  She _always_ could.

He stood in awe as she juggled the large mason jar in her miniature little fingers with precision.  She plucked, bare handed, another bee gently from the golden flowers that matched her hair perfectly and placed it into the jar with the other twenty or so that she’d caught thus far, putting her tiny hand over the opening to keep the dangerous insects within.  They gave her no resistance as she took them into her custody.

He’d noticed that out of all the life around her, she’d always liked bees most of all and he understood precisely why.  He enjoyed _listening_ to them also.  Their active little spirits working in fascinating unison, as part of a greater collective mind.  Just like _him_ … _just like her._

There was an obvious kinship with these winged soldiers who possessed great power through their brethren of the hive.  Michael often wondered if these important little creations were a silent nod to him and his kind from _Father_.  His musings were cut short by the arrival of the remainder of her family.

The yellow Oldsmobile rounded the corner of the driveway and slowly pulled into place as the _Mother_ came out of the house to greet them, pulling the passenger side open with a smile and hug of the _Brother_.  The older boy was the _Mother’s_ favorite, but it was difficult for Michael to ascertain if that was simply because of the boy’s sickness or because of the woman’s inherent fear of her own daughter.  The child’s mere presence would put most at unease, as he well knew.

The _Husband_ , not to be confused with the _Father_ , who’d been mad for years now, exited promptly, rounding the front of the car to pick up the young boy.  Michael guessed he was likely around _eight_ years old now.  He’d watched him grow _and break_ many times over the years.

The _Brother_ , with his dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes, couldn’t see him _either_.  This child had been born entirely free of the _Michael’s dominant trait_ and therefore there would be no worry of him passing it on to his children.  He’d learned, over the many long years since the birth of his _son_ , that only the male offspring could pass on this … _curse._

He’d watched over the generation, hoping that each child who was born after his _fornication_ to be less affected by it, but this was not the case.  Whatever genetics he had passed on was a dominant trait.  One was either _Demiarc, The Feared_ , or one was not.  There was no half, there was _no quarter_ , and if one was not, one could _not_ pass it on.

For this fact, he was infinitely grateful.  Ten generations of children would have been substantial for even him to track over the years.  But now there was just _her_ left.  A single child, unable to pass on his trait.

Once before, there had been a girl … but only once.  Just as his _son_ , he’d branded her days after she was born.  None had he left as long as this _one_.  Tomorrow she would turn four and he could risk it no longer as he felt her power growing each day and he knew that _tonight_ would be the night that he would need to _break_ her … in so many more ways than just the one.  

He watched as the _Husband_ picked up the boy, careful not to put pressure on bone cast that encompassed the young one’s left femur.  He’d broken it, this time skipping a step as he jumped down the stairs on his way to school.  Michael had cringed from beneath the willow tree when he heard the bone give way last week.   The _Mother_ , as bossy as always, barked orders at the man as he carried the child within the house.

“Put him on the couch for now!  I’m still washing his bed sheets!”  She screamed before she finally took note of her daughter, who was still happily collecting the dangerous insects without a single care in the world.

Michael shook his head as he watched her scream an insult to the girl, walk over and swat her on the behind as hard as she could, causing the child to fall helplessly to the ground as she screamed out in pain.  The tears flowed freely from her green eyes as the jar was stolen from her grasp and the _Mother_ let the bugs free, shaking it upside down so the insects would vacate as she hit the glass violently.

In her over zealousness to be rid of them, she incited anger amongst the winged brethren, who then proceeded to attack the _Mother_ with as much vigor as they could manage.  Michael wasn’t sure if it was the aggression the older woman had showed towards the bees themselves, or the violence towards her daughter, but at once the girl’s tears abated and she began to giggle as her mother flew wildly around, swatting at her body in all locations.  Michael chuckled lowly to himself.   _Sometimes_ he actually found himself believing in karma.   _Sometimes._

It was mid afternoon and he told himself he would come back tonight.  He knew he’d told himself this same thing for the last two weeks, but there was little time now.  She would _spark_ any day … he could not put off the inevitable _any longer._

 

* * *

 

> **Inspiration:** [ Sleeping with the Stars - Really Slow Motion ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5DdAHLXDYjGOBWaDYVXe6u)

 

“They said to bring her in for testing tomorrow.”  The _Mother_ barked at her _Husband_ while they waded through the commercials, awaiting their mindless television show to come back on as Michael watched through the living room window.

“I really don’t see why that’s necessary.  She’s just a _slow learner_.”  The _Husband_ challenged.  Overall, Michael felt like he liked this man.  He clearly loved the child far more than his wife did as he wasn’t as severely _affected_ by her nature as her own _Mother_ was.

“She’s four and she still won’t talk.  If she’s autistic, then she needs to be in a home that can care for that.  I can’t deal with it _and_ care for _Daniel_ at the same time.  I just need a little help.”

 _Yeah.  A little help._ Michael shook his head.  He knew the _Mother_ wanted to send her away to a _state_ run school for “help”.

“It's just a test.  She can’t sleep.  She can’t talk.  She can’t make friends.”  The _Mother_ repeated.

“She’s just a baby, hun.  She’s still just a _baby_.”

“When her brother was her age, _he was already reading_.”  She retorted.

“Yeah, well.  Not everyone is as smart as him.”  The _Husband_ tried to appease his irrational wife.  Michael knew the girl was _far_ more intelligent than the boy and he shook his head yet again.

“They are just gonna test her … _That’s all._  We don’t have to make any decisions yet.  They are just gonna see if she’s like … _her father.”_  And here came the woman’s _best weapon_ against her _Husband_.  Michael shook his head again as he watched her force the tears up as the man succumbed to her desires, embracing and reassuring her.

“It’s fine.  We’ll know by tomorrow.  And they’re gonna test her for **_Autism_** , hun ... not _Schizophrenia_.  There’s no reason to jump to _those kinds of conclusions._ ”

Michael shook a final time in severe disapproval.  How _very_ much he disliked _this woman_.  What his progeny saw in her was well beyond him, but he left the two “ _adults_ ” to their mindless television as he walked to the backyard, jumping the meager fence and landing silently.

The white husky, who could also see him, greeted him enthusiastically and he knelt to pet the beast, as he always had.

 _"I will not be back.”_  He told him with his mind, “ _You will have to care for her in my stead now, Thunder_ ”  He _loved_ this dog’s name as he felt it was almost _fate_ , was it not?  The dog wagged his tail in merry compliance while the angel scratched him behind his wolf-like ears.  There had been an understanding between them for years now about _this very thing._

The back door _was locked_ , but the handle crumpled under his grip and he stepped into the dark hallway, passing the _Brother’s_ room, stopping only briefly one last time to gaze on his broken child.  He was still up reading a “science fiction” book of some kind.

Right before he turned the corner of the tiny room that housed the girl, he heard a conversation ensuing but a sudden hush occurred as he entered.  She was still up and the mound in the middle of the bed told him as much.

The amber glow of her miniature flashlight shown from the corners of the blanket and he smiled as she became utterly silent in his presence.  She could _feel_ him coming and she had covered herself to hide.  As he eased down onto the edge of the bed, he carefully uncovered the tiny _Demiarc_ from her protective shield.

She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding something very delicately cupped from visibility in her equally delicate hands.  The flashlight was sitting on the bed in front of her, pointed directly towards her body and Michael laughed as the act of pulling the sheets from her golden hair had caused it to build up a static charge and the wisps danced crazily above her head in the free air.

When she saw his face, she smiled and **_spoke_**.  Her mother was quite wrong.  She _could_ speak, and she did so very regularly, however none other than _him_ could understand her.  Her voice was full of sounds only half of which could even be heard by human ears, as she clicked, whistled, and hummed in their native language.  She had first begun to speak when she was 3 months and her vocabulary was nearly completely by the time she was two.  He knew she’d learned most of it directly from him, through their connection.

“ _I thought you were her.”_  She said, pretending to be relieved.

Michael shook his head, “ _No, silly one.  You didn’t.  You_ **_knew_ ** _it was me.”_

She was almost shocked at his knowledge of her lie, “ _Oh.  I think I did.”_ She giggled at him.

 _“Why lie?  Are you afraid of me tonight?”_  He asked, somewhat ashamed.

 _“No … but_ **_you_ ** _are afraid of me.”_  Her little shoulders shrugged simply with her words and Michael bowed his head slightly.  

 _“No, I am not._ ”

“ _Now who is the liar?”_  She immediately called him out and Michael felt himself blush.  She was too young to realize that she was confusing _shame_ with _fear_.  As sadness rolled over his body, he stared at her hand, wanting to prolong the moment for however much longer he could.

 _“What is it?  What are you hiding?”_  He tapped her little hands, still cupped over some secret and she looked shocked, not wishing to show him.

 _“I was talking to Mrs. Weaver._ ”

 _“Oh?  What was she telling you?”_  He asked as he tapped her little hand again and she finally relented to him, opening it carefully and allowing the little creature out of her confine.  As it crawled around her hand with its long black legs, it ambled up her tiny fingers to give Michael full view of the red hourglass on its abdomen.

_“She lost her husband again.  It makes her sad.”_

Michael couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.   _“And what keeps happening to all of her husbands?”_

The golden-haired child shrugged, stating matter of factly, _“She kills them._ ”

“ _She can’t be sad if she’s the reason they die.”_ He offered a valid point but the child shook her head back and forth vigorously.

 _“No.  She can’t help it.  It's just her nature.  That’s what makes her sad._ ”

 _“She can’t simply blame her nature.  She has the freedom of will.  She has … “_ Michael paused delicately, nearly choking on his words, “ _She has …_ **_a choice_** _.”_

He stared at the child and wondered if she understood the power of her words to _him_ at this very moment.  It was likely she did not but he pondered about her tiny and impressive little intellect as he heard the adults stir in the other room and knew that their _program_ would be over soon.  The _Husband_ would come and check on the children one last time before bed and he had only minutes.

Scooping the black spider into his own hands, he reached out of the open window and set it on the bush outside as he turned back to her, _“You shouldn’t talk to Mrs. Weaver anymore, ok?”_

_“But … Why not?  She’s my best friend.”_

_“You will make new friends now.  And it won’t be safe anymore.  Ok?  … Promise me.”_  He waited for her to nod in agreement but she refused.  “ _Promise me_.”  He said again as she finally complied.

 _“Am I in trouble?”_ She asked, worry overtaking her spotted face and Michael shook his head.

 _“No.  No.  You won’t be … not anymore.  I’ve come to make you better_. _To make sure you won’t ever be in trouble._ ”

 _“Make me better?  What’s wrong with me?”_  Her eyes were wide, _“Mama says I’m sick.  She doesn’t know what I’m saying._ ”

 _“No.  You are not sick.  You are just different.”_  Michael had no idea how to express this to a child of her age, regardless of how intelligent he knew she was.

 _“And you can fix me?”_ She asked with hope as she tapped her temple with her finger, _“Mama says I’m broken_ **_here_** _.”_

 _“In a way.  I can make you … less_ **_different_** _.”_ Michael frowned because he knew the ramifications of what he would do to her.  He knew, since the first moment he laid eyes on her in that nursery four years ago.  He knew the disease that her divinity had kept fundamentally at bay, the one that would make her bones _so much more brittle than even the boy down the hallway_.  Her severity was much worse than his.  Her _Brother_ could walk, but Michael knew by tomorrow she would _not_.

 _“If you can fix me, can you fix Daniel too?”_ She asked, _“I don’t want him to hurt anymore.”_

Michael couldn’t react other than to pull the little girl into his arms, hugging her gently as he apologized, “ _I can’t fix him.  I’m sorry.  It is how he was created.  I can’t change how he was_ **_created_** _._ ”

 _“But how can you fix me then?”_  Michael offered no answer, but tightened his grip on her.  He wouldn’t be _fixing_ her … he would be _breaking_ her.   _“It’s ok.”_ She pulled away from him and touched his reddening cheek with her tiny finger, _“If you can fix me, then at least I can help Mama take care of him better.”_

 _God … damn ... it._  Hesitating, he fiddled with the ring in his finger for a moment in silence as she spoke again, reading his nervousness easily, _“Will it hurt?”_

Michael had never been good with kids and he answered too honestly, _“Yes.  A lot.”_

She giggled madly at his disclosure as she slapped him on his arm playfully, _“You aren’t supposed to say that!”_

Shock overcame his face, _“You would rather I lied to you?”_

 _“The Doctor lies all the the time.  They say shots don’t hurt … but they do.”_ She shrugged at him.

 _“Well, this’ll kind of be like a shot.  Just like the doctor gives you.  It’ll protect you.”_ He offered, as he smiled her so very fakely.

 _“But you have no needle.”_  She noticed as she looked around, patting his pants pocket slightly to make sure it was empty.

 _“It’s here._ ”  He pointed to the ring and she stared at it, completely fixated for a moment before she reached out to his hand, pulling it close to her face so she could see it more closely.

 _“That doesn’t look like a needle._ ”  She stated, quite sure of herself as she tugged the ring completely free from his finger.  Michael had _never_ removed the ring.   _Never._ Not since the day after his creation when _Father_ had given it to him.  No other soul in existence had _ever_ worn it and he watched in silent pride as the tiny girl slipped the ring on each her fingers, even both her thumbs.

On and off.  On and off.  Making sure it didn’t fit on any of them as she treated it like it might have been a glass slipper that could miraculously fit her.  Shrugging, she pushed it back onto his finger and he smiled at her before she spoke again.   _“Ok.  I trust you.”_  She said as she closed her eyes tightly, turning her arm to him.

 _“No.  I only need this.”_ He said as he reached for her right hand, exposing the inside of her tiny little wrist to him.  She opened her eyes and watched him intently.   _“Now, you have to be brave for me.  Not a peep, ok?”_ She nodded to him.

He pulled back for a moment, “ _Why the bees?”_  He asked as her eyes flew open to look at him again.

“ _Why what?”_

“ _Why do you catch them?  Why do they let you?  Don’t they have work to do?”_

She giggled, “ _They don’t like their boss lady.  She never lets them take a break.”_

Michael cocked his head to the right, “ _So, you are giving them a break then?”_

She nodded, “ _They need a break.  They work too hard all the time.  Everyone needs a rest sometimes._ ”

Michael nodded in acceptance and he reached his hand up to speak into his ring as she spoke again, “ _Its my birthday tomorrow.  Can you come back for cake?”_

“ _I …_ “  He stuttered as he lied, “ _I will try.”_

He bent, whispering the _Enochian_ word for _Diminish_ into his massive, golden ring, “ _Peredazore_ ” and it changed before their eyes, burning with a rectangular amber glyph.  He watched the ember color dance in her eyes as it had his son’s eyes that first night he had performed this task on his progeny.  Placing the ring against the inside of her wrist, he whispered again, infusing the action with power, “ _Peredazore_.”

 _“Neat!”_ She said moments before he touched it to her skin and he felt her little body jolt in pain.

_“Brave … remember?”_

The tears welled up in her eyes and he wondered what it must feel like.  He remembered the _Children of Fornication_ had screamed unlike any he had _ever_ heard as he burned the power from their very souls.  His own children were only babies so there wasn’t much to burn away and their pain was brief.  But, he’d waited so long with her, trying to afford her some type of happy life, without sickness, before he needed to …

And now, as he _branded_ her, she was _so quiet_ , watching silently as he _hurt_ her so very deeply.  But she was being _so very brave_ that when the pain seeped into him, through her, he flinched at the gravity of the feel.  He felt as if he was being _torn_ in half and he ripped the ring from her wrist, nearly incapable of taking a full breath.  It was the sensation of **_falling_** **.** He felt it through the Nexus _from_ her and Michael stood quickly, his head reeling with dizzying nausea as he fell to his knees on the floor, attempting to regain control of his heart.

 _Oh my god._  He felt the saliva drip from his open mouth as he collapsed further onto all fours, closing his eyes tightly as he felt for his brethren, verifying that he _was_ still there, that he was still _connected_.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt _Raphael_ first and the tears welled up in his own eyes.

 **_Get up you fool_** **.**  He commanded himself.   **_Get up and finish this_** **.**

When he finally stumbled to his feet, the little girl had crumpled into an unconscious ball in the middle of the bed and he lunged at her, pulling her back to ensure she still lived.  His heart raced again as he pulled her into his arms, rocking her back and forth in a cradle.

 _“I’m so sorry.”_ He coughed in his anguish, _“I’m so very sorry.”_

 **_Finish this_** **.** He commanded himself.

As he laid her back down, placing her tiny head gently on the pillow, he could see that her hair wasn’t golden anymore, but was now the same color that his son’s had become, a dark ash blonde.   He _knew_ it wasn’t _finished_ yet, her freckles were still prominent and he could still _feel_ the _faintest_ amount divinity lurking within her.

But when he reached out with his mind, he felt _nothing_.  Michael smoothed the hair from her face and tried again.   _Nothing_.  She had a voice, but he couldn’t hear it no longer.  He looked at her body and he knew her bones were weaker now, but not as weak as they should have been.  He knew she was still strong.

 **_Finish this_** **.**  He urged himself.

He stood.  She was the _last_.  She was _his last._  If he took it all away from her, she would live a broken, crippled, and short life.  Her mind and her body would both eventually fail her.

But if he left her … with just this _tiny bit of himself_.  What could it hurt?

She could live.  She could love.  She could be _normal_ and maybe just a _tad different_.  She could just … _be_.

Michael walked away with only one thing repeating on his mind …

# What could it possibly hurt?

 

* * *

 

When he walked in the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but his wife flew into his arms without any hesitation.

“I … _I didn’t …_ **_I couldn’t_ ** _…_ ”

“I know.”  Hathų said as she buried her face into his chest, “ _I know._ ”

“I’m sorry.”  He pulled her back to see the half worry, half happiness spread across her face.


	3. 1.1 - Justice

When she’d been forced to leave Dawn’s presence, she immediately went to find _him._ Whatever the tiny woman had in mind, Hathų knew it wasn’t good. When Dawn put her mind to something, generally she was able to follow through on it relatively well and this put Hathų in a minor panic. When she couldn’t find him anywhere, she went home and waited, as the realization of the situation finally struck her.

_He was avoiding her._

He had made this _decision_ without consulting her. The first she’d heard of it was when she’d heard it from Dawn’s panicked ears herself. Michael was not a rash or spontaneous man. If this was his plan, then he had been working on it for some time and she sat down at the table, sipping a cup of _Angelica_ tea while she waited the many … _many_ … hour until he returned home.

The knob on the door squeaked open timidly and he entered, his head lowered, hiding his face from hers. As he eased himself down into the chair, he placed his head onto his hand and waited silently, gripping the divots in his temples firmly.

“ _This_ was your plan _all along_?” She questioned finally.

“No. Not all along. No.  Barqan and I–” He started to explain, his hand quivered slightly as it covered his face while she interrupted.

“Is it done? Or is it too late now? Is that why you’ve returned … _now_?” Hathų’s voice was laden with disappointment.

“It’s done. The boy’s already at the citadel.” Michael said as plainly as she thought possible, “Can’t you see it?”

She shook her head even though she knew he could not see her through his hand to view her disappointment, “I cannot see _anything_ anymore. She will not let me. I have been cast out. She blames _me_ for this.”

“She’ll get over it. She’s strong.” Michael offered quietly, pinching his temple harder as he took a deep and long breath.

“You should have told me what you planned.” Hathų lowered her head as she tilted it down with a frown, staring into the cup in her hands, “You should have _warned_ me. You should _not_ have kept this from me.”

“No. You would have tried to talk me out of it.” Michael knew her too well. “There was no other option available to us. Ozryel was going to raise–”

“YES.” Her anger flared, “ _I ** _ _would__** have talked you out of it! Do you know what you have done to her?! **__Can you even understand what you have done!?__** ”_

His hand flew from his face and for the first time since he’d returned to _her_ … _their_ … home, she could see his eyes finally. She knew he _could_ be emotional at times, but, over the years, her husband had become a master of hiding his emotions from those around him. She’d only seen him cry on a few number of occasions and now, the tears streamed freely down his cheeks. His eyes were puffy and it was obvious he’d been at _this_ for hours already.

“Can I fathom it? _I know exactly what I have done! I ** _ _feel__** what I have done. **__I FEEL EVERYTHING!!!__** ” _He raised his voice to her as he slammed his fist on the table, “__ ** _I feel what I have done to her!!!_** ”

Hathų felt herself beginning to cry and she refused to give him the benefit of seeing her in this state. “Good. **_GOOD_**. Now …” She spat at him while she shook her head, and she immediately regretted the next words that escaped from her mouth, as she told him something she never had before while she pointed furiously at the door, “ ** _GET OUT._** ”

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he stared blankly at her, confused at first but accepting finally as he stood and left her presence slowly and without another word.

Hathų slid back down into the chair and tried to reach out again. _Nothing_. She was locked out and she worried as she tried again and _again_ and **_again_**.

_None should be alone in a time like this._

As this crucial thought danced across her mind, she remembered how _Michael_ was sharing that feeling right now and she repeated the words to herself: _None should be alone in a time like this_ and she had sent him away. Even if she went to search for him now, she knew she would not be able to find him.

Hathų placed her head into her hands as she wept.

 

* * *

 

When he came to, Quintus found himself in a large and exceptionally _clean_ cell. It was well lit in some places and completely dark in others, though no light sources were immediately obvious. It was immaculate, not a speck of dust or blemish anywhere. Everything was polished to perfection, even the bars themselves, glistened with pristine silver shine.

Staring down the corridor as far as he could while pressing his face against the cold bars, there seemed to be no end to the cellblock in either direction that he could see. There were also no noises that he could discern other than his own movements, and discomfort overwhelmed him fully. He was usually able to _hear_ people … he was usually able to _hear_ _something_. He could not even _smell_ anything at all.

Quintus grabbed the bars and tried to rattle them, testing his ability to bend or pull them free but found the metal utterly immovable, even with his heightened strength. He tried again, flexing as much as he could before he was suddenly startled by the voice emanating from the cell directly across from him.

He’d heard _no one_ in the cell at all, but that was _clearly wrong_. The words echoed from the far shadows of the back corner where no light could illuminate.

“ _Oh my good gracious._ Those bars cannot be broken, _you silly boy_.” The voice was light and seemingly feminine, with a clearly English accent. “You might as well just sit down and wait patiently like the rest of _us_.”

_Us_? Quintus looked around and could see no one else in the other cells. _The rest of us?_

“Who is in there?” He questioned suddenly, trying to squint into the dark shadows. Usually his preternatural eyes could cut through darkness easily, but he was obviously not the same here as he had been _before_. The person pulled themselves to their feet and stepped into the light, approaching the bars and Quintus took them into full view. “Who are you? What is this place?”

The light and crisp voice spoke again, “Do you not know. Can you not tell?” It asked with gleeful amusement.

The figure was exactly his height but its build was far more lanky and far less muscular. He was not entirely sure if it was a man or a woman, as it seemed to carry the traits of both, but he was more taken with its entirely bald head and _red eyes_. Its skin was white, nearly translucent and Quintus stared with his mouth agape at the almost unnoticeable stripes that ran across its face, for they matched his own **_unique_** markings nearly exactly. “ _Do you not recognize me, my son?_ ”

“No … No, _No,_ **_No._** ” He found himself backing up from the bars as he stared at this … _creature_ across from him, “It cannot be.”

“I am **_Ozryel_**.” He shrugged as he smiled across the way to him. “I am _your maker_ , Quintus.” 

 

* * *

 

“You have been sitting here _for hours now_.” Raphael walked up to Michael, who was still waiting on the bench in front of the corridor filled with incarceration cells. He carefully eased down next to his obviously nervous older brother and joined him in staring at the travertine ground.

“ _Indeed_.” Michael whispered as he fiddled with his hands, barely acknowledging his younger brother’s presence.

Raphael patiently waited for a moment before breaking the palpable silence, “Your nervous state is almost contagious, Michael. Are you not _relieved_ that he is _finally_ back? That he is … _home?_ ”

The green-eyed man nodded slowly, “ _Relieved_ is a tricky word. He is not the same as he once was.”

“You do not know that yet. He is free of the _plague_ now. He has been _cleansed_.”

“He has still been … _tainted_.” Michael stated. 

Raphael so very rarely touched _anyone_ anymore. Since he had put his sword and armour down over eight thousand years ago, he’d pulled away from nearly _all physical contact_ , but at this point, he reached a confident hand out and placed it on Michael’s shoulder, gripping firmly, “Well, feel what you must then. I am _**relieved**_ and I have come to see him. But, you have given specific orders that you must be first to speak with him. So …” The violet-eyed angel smiled as he waved a hand towards the corridor, “I am tired of waiting.”

Michael nodded slowly again and stood, turning to the corridor and staring down the long passage within, “I’m not sure what I should say.”

Raphael remained seated, “Say nothing. Or say _everything_. _Just see him_. But, do not sit here any longer pondering endlessly of the possibilities of that which is _inevitable_.”

Sighing heavily, the taller and older brother turned to take his journey down the cellblock as his little brother spoke again during his exit, “I have no doubts that he will be eager to see you as well. You have both felt this _ache_ for far _too long_.” 

 

* * *

 

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?” Quintus questioned the being across the corridor from him as he continued to rub his forehead from his seated position on the far too shiny metal bench. Since he had unintentionally provoked the angel into speaking, it hadn’t stopped since. _She? He?_ What did it matter … He cared not. He just wished for silence again.

“ _Sometimes_?” It offered, but then it shortly corrected, “ No. Not really … _no_. Sorry, my mind is always buzzing. It’s how I was made.” There was a chuckle and then there was _that smile_. It was pleasant yet nervous and somehow … _innocent_ in nature. Quintus _hated_ it as he scowled at the _incessant _being_ , “Besides_ … you do make me a bit _nervous_.”

Staring into the red eyes from across the way, his mouth dropped agape, “ _I?_ ” He questioned as he pointed to his chest, unable to fully restrain his bubbling emotions, “I make _you_ nervous? _I make ** _ _you__** nervous_?”

Another jittery chuckle escaped. “Indeed. You do.” He … _she_ … grinned again. “You’ve always made me _nervous_ , my boy.”

“Do not call me, _your_ _boy._ ” He warned as he thought of what he might be able to do if he _could_ rip through the bars. As he considered trying the bars again just to get his hands around the throat of the _angel_ and squeeze the life out of it, he rubbed his forehead again in disdain.

“Sorry.” She put her hands up in minor defense of her perceived slight, “ _Sorry_. And I _really_ am _sorry_ , Quintus. Do you mind if I call you _Quintus_? Or is it _Quinlan?_ ” Another shy snicker, “Or is it _Mr. Quinlan?_ What is the _Mister_ for anyways?”

“ _Call me nothing, you fucking snake!_   **_Stop your incessant babbling!!!_** ”

Ozryel pouted slightly, hesitating only for an instant before speaking yet again, “Well then. That’s not _entirely fair_. _We_ have helped you quite a bit over the years. _Have we not?_ ” Her puzzlement seemed true, but she shook her head, “I mean **_I_** … not _we_ … **_I_**. Well … “ She chuckled as she repeated it again to herself, “That will be a _very difficult_ habit to break … _**I**_ … think. _Heh_.”

Quintus could do nothing but stare as she continued, “There really isn’t a reason to harbor such ill will towards us … **_ME._** ”

**_“You killed my wife and daughter!”_** Quintus screamed in rage as he stood from the bench, pointing violently at her and causing the Archangel to take a surprised step back from the bars. _**“[Pedicabo ego vos!!!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FFuck%2520you%2520%21%21%21&t=YTdhM2E2NGRiYmQ3ZTdhZmM2OGFlM2M3MTQ5NmI4MmVhMGM5M2FhMCw0ZGJMbkZmNw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157875828518%2Fchapter-11-justice&m=1)** ”_

Ozryel cringed slightly, clenching her teeth, “Technically … that was only one of _us_ … I mean … only 1/7th of **_me_** … that _did that_.” She smiled again and Quintus clenched his own jaw while her words continued, “That’s not even a _majority_ , right?” She barely managed to snort a timid laugh.

Turning his back to the _creature_ , he scoffed loudly at the back wall as Ozryel continued her apprehensive blubbering, “Besides … That’s just _First Death_. They are _here_ somewhere, right? I’m sure you’ll be back together in no time. **_Right_**?”

“And where exactly is _here_?” Quintus asked but somehow he already knew the answer to that, but he was _terrified_ to hear his assumption justified.

As he turned back around he was greeted with that innocent smile again. He might have had further words but something shiny caught his eye as they both turned in unison to face the tall figure that stood still off to the right of him. Quintus had heard _nothing_ as the being had approached and Ozyrel fell into complete silence before it, taking a step forward as her smile widened.

“ _Hello Ozryel_.” The figure said in an all _too familiar_ voice for Quintus. He was the same height as both of them yet he was completely covered, head to toe, in a full body of silver armour. His face complete shielded with a matching helmet.

Quintus remained silent as he watched _his father_ take another step towards the new arrival, gripping the bars as she spoke, “ _I’ve been expecting you, **Michael**._ ”

 

* * *

 

>    
>  **Note:** You’ll notice that Ozryel shifts from being referenced as a _she_ before to a _he_ now. That’s on purpose, because Quinlan is viewing her as a female and Michael is viewing him as a male. I’m trying to stay true to what each character preceives her as. This will get clarified more in the next chapter further.

Michael needed to be extremely _careful_ .  He would rather have spoken to each separate from the other.  He was frustrated that Gabriel had put them together, but he knew it was simply to instigate animosity.  That was _Gabriel’s_ way.  He had always been the most aggressive of the brothers and now Michael had no idea _what_ had been shared between the two.  Although, given the bickering that was already well underway upon his approach, he hoped not much.

Quinlan was mildly _connected_ now and thus, he could use the _Nexus_ to speak with him without Ozryel hearing, he hoped.  As for Oz, he knew Quinlan did not speak _the true tongue_ .  Reading and _hearing_ Enochian are two very different things.  After the brief greeting, all of his following words to his brother would be in their native tongue.

**_“.נאָיטיסאָפּ טלוסיפפיד אַ ני עם טופּ עוו'ווי אונטער דנאַצרעדנו ווי ערוס מ'י צעבער, סנאָיטאַדאָממאָקקאַ רעפּאָרפּ fo קייקאַל עהט ראָף עזיגאָלאָפּאַ איך”_ **

(“I apologize for the lack of proper _accommodations_ , but I’m sure you understand that you’ve put me in a difficult position.“)  He began as he attempted to sound as hospitable as possible to his older brother.

**_“.רעגנירב טהגיל עהט דעדראָפפאַ געזען טאַהוו נאַהט רעטטעב ראַף צו טי .יללאַוטקאַ, טיב אַ עטיוק טי עטאַיסערפּפּאַ איך”_ **

(“I appreciate it quite a bit, _actually_ .  It is far better than what was afforded _The Light Bringer._ ”) Ozryel shrugged in acceptance.

**_“.הסעעפּס לאַיוקאָללאָק ווען רווי יאָדזשנע אָסלאַ איך”_ **

(“I also enjoy your new _colloquial speech_.”)  He smiled at him.

**_“.ללעוו סאַ ילעסין ווי סטיף רואָמראַ ימ”_ **

(“And my armour fits you nicely as well.”)  His silver armour had been _Ozryel’s_ , when _he_ had been _The Right Hand_.

Michael remained stoic as he waited for his brother to speak again, but he was given only silence.  Where Michael was the most creative, Oz had _always_ been the smartest of all of them.  Tip-toeing around this subject would prove dangerous and … tricky.  Regardless, there was no point in delaying this with _friendly_ banter …

**_“? טנאַוו ווי טי סי טאַהוו”_ **

(“What is it you want?”)

**_“.סי אונטער טאַהוו וואָנק ווי .דעטנאַוו סיאַוולאַ עוואַה איך טאַהוו”_ **

(“What I have always wanted.  You know what that is.”)  That pleasant smile.

**_“? עמאָה עמאָק אָט”_ **

(“To come home?”)

**_“.סיי .גניהט רעהטאָ עהט גנאָמאַ”_ **

(“Among _the other thing_.  Yes.”)  Ozryel nodded.

**_“.עטיסאָפּפּאָ עהט עטיוק אָד אָט גנידנעטני ערעוו ווי .עמאָה עמאָק אָט גנידנעטני ט'נערעוו ווי .טאַהט טואָבאַ סטבואָד עוו'י FI עם עוויגראָף לל'ווי”_ **

(“You’ll forgive me if I’ve doubts about _that_ .  You weren’t _intending_ to come home.  You were intending to do quite the opposite.”)

Ozryel barked, answering the next part entirely in English, “ _As I keep saying_ .  That was only 1/7th of us … _me_ .  I do not understand why I must be judged by the actions of less than a _QUARTER_ of myself.”

Quinlan spoke up finally, “And I should not be judged alongside this _snake_ .  I stood against--”  Michael’s finger flew up to shush the _dhampir_ mid-sentence.

“Enough!  Your turn is next.”  He warned and he brought the conversation back to _Enochian_ …

**_“--ווי fo טראַפּ א .עמאָה נרוטער אָט הסיוו ט'נדיד ווי fo טראַפּ אַ ... לליץ”_ **

(“Still … a _part_ of you didn’t wish to return home.  A part of you--”)

**_“.נאָיטקאַרף ירגנאַ אַפּאַראַט לאַמאַ א .טראַפּ א .עם fo טראַפּ א .ילטק אַקס”_ **

(“Exactly.  A part of me.   _A part_ .  A small tiny _angry_ fraction.”)  Ozryel repeated as his smile finally faded …

**_“.סטראַפּ ... אָטני טוק נעעב עוואַה טאָן דלואָהס איך ספּאַהרעפּ צעבער, עם עמאַלב ווי”_ **

(“You blame me, but perhaps I should not have been cut into **_… parts_ **.”)  His eyes flashed wide with hidden anger…

**_“--נעעב עוואַה טאָן דלואָהס איך ספּאַהרעפּ”_ **

(“Perhaps I should not have been--”)

**_“! יאָוטובע וואָס יט'נאַסוו רי”_ **

(“ _It wasn’t_ **_I_ ** _that cut you!_ ”)

**_“! רעהטאָרב אַ fo קיין פון סאַב טאָידי אַז געזען עס, אויף”_ **

(“No, it was that idiot buffoon of a _brother_!”)  Ozryel raised his voice as he referred to Gabriel.  Ozryel had never liked Gabriel.  None of them had.

**_“.יאַוו אונטער רעטטעב עב דלואָוו טי אונטער דעדיסעד געזען טי”_ **

(“It was decided that it would be better that way.”)

**“?!? סעסעיפּ ימ fo סנאָיטקאַ עהט רעוואָ לאָרטנאָק אויף אָט עלטטיל עוואַה דלואָוו איך אונטער אַס דנים ימ דראַהס אָט רעטטעב .סעסעיפּ אָטני עם עסילס אָט רעטטעב? רעטטעב”**

(“Better?  Better to slice me into pieces.  Better to shard my mind so that I would have _little to no control_ over the actions of my _pieces_?!?”) The white-skinned angel coughed at the statement.

**_“... ווי יאָרצעד טאָן דלואָוו נאָיטאַלאָסי עהט אונטער אַס”_ **

(“So that the isolation would not destroy you … “)  Michael shook his head as it bowed, his voice laced with bitter sorrow before he continued ...  

**_“... מיט ... דאַם ... פּו דניוו טאָן דלואָוו ווי אונטער אַס”_ **

(“So that you would not wind up … _mad_ … as … ”)

**_“.ענאָ עלטטיל עהט נאַהט רעדדאַם טואָ דענרוט עוואַה טהגים איך עוועילעב איך .רעהטאָ ראַעד ימ, נעהט ערוליאַף אַ געזען טנעמירעפּקסע אונטער”_ **

(“ _That_ experiment was a _failure_ then, _my dear Other_ .  I believe I might have turned out _madder_ than _The Little One_.”)  The prisoner paced now as he folded his arms over his flat chest.

**_“!!! נראָב געזען גניהט סיהט ליטנו ערוליאַף אַ טאָן געזען טי”_ **

(“It was _not_ a failure until _this thing_ was born!!!”)  Michael thrust a finger towards Quinlan, who seemed shocked to have been mentioned suddenly, but remained quiet.

**_“.עקאַף ני עטיסאָפּפּאָ עהט עטיוק .דאַם סו עקאַם טאָן האט האַ .מיה עמאַלב טאָן אָד”_ **

(“Do not blame him.  He did not make us _mad_.  Quite the opposite in face.”)  Ozryel barked.

**_“! מיה גניראַפּס אָטני עם קלאַט מעהט tel איך ליטנו עניף ערעוו סעסעיפּ רווי”_ **

(“Your pieces were _fine_ until I let them talk me into _sparing him_!”)

**_“? טי הטראָוו טאָן איר געזען .נעם רווי ראָף .ללאַסער איך FI, נעם רווי ראָף”_ **

(“For _your men_ , if I recall.   **_For your men_ **.  Was it not worth it?”)  Ozryel scoffed, continuing …

**_“! טלואַף רווי ראָף מיה עמאַלב טנעמאָם ענאָ שניי ראָף טאָן אָד דנאַ .מיה געזען ... נעם רווי ראָף טנעמיאַפּ עהט .עראָמינאַ הסעלף עהט יב דעטפּמעט עב טאָן דלואָוו נעם רווי אונטער אַס, עם אָט הטראַע רעוואָ הקטאַוו דעהסיוקנילער ווי”_ **

(“You relinquished watch over _Earth_ to **_me_ ** , so that _your men_ would not be tempted by _The Flesh_ anymore.  The _payment_ for _your men_ … **_was him_ ** .  And do not for even one moment blame _him_ for your _fault!_ ”)  Ozryel’s rage was nearly overflowing.  Quinlan had always been a _button_ for him.

**_“! דנואָרג עהט אָט הטראַע נרוב אָט דעירט ווי ", טאַפּס לעאַהסים"!? טלואַף ימ, סעדיסעב! עקורט סיהט עקאָרב ווי דנאַ”_ **

(“And you broke this truce!  Besides, _my fault?!”_  Michael spat, “ _You_ tried to burn _Earth_ to the ground!”)

**_“.עריף עהט קראַפּס אָט הסיהוו הטיוו לעוף עהט עם עוואַג ווי עסואַסעב ילנאָ”_ **

(“Only because **_you_ ** gave **_me_ ** the fuel with which to spark the fire.”)  The anger retreated from his white face as he smirked, shaking his head simply.

That word … _Spark_.  Michael knew it was well chosen and he closed his eyes tightly, not responding as Ozryel continued to berate his little brother …

**_“? ססעלעראַק אַס נעעב עוואַה ווי דלואָק וואָה? גניקניהט ווי ערעוו טאַהוו”_ **

(“What were you thinking?  How could **_you_ ** have been so **_careless_ ** ?”)  Was this … _concern_ in his usually manipulative voice?  Did he really still _care_ about him, after everything that had happened?

**_“! ענאָ ססעלעראַק ילנאָ עהט טאָן געזען איך”_ **

(“I was not the only _careless_ one!”)  Michael spat as he pointed to Quinlan.

**_“? רעהטאָרב עלטטיל, יאַרץ אָט ווי דעסואַק ילביססאָפּ עוואַה דלואָק אָהוו ראָ ... טאַהוו .יטיסילפּמאָק טסעריד אָט עוד געזען סרווי .טהגיסרעוואָ עלפּמיס אַ געזען נאָיססערגסנאַרט ימ”_ **

(“My transgression was a simple oversight.  Yours was due to direct complicity.  What … or _who_ could have possibly caused you to stray, little brother?”)  Ozryel shrugged with an innocent smile.

**_“? ליירזאָ, עם מאָרף טנאַוו ווי אָד טאַהוו .טאַהק טיהק הגואָנע”_ **

(“Enough chit chat.  What do you want from me, _Ozryel_?”)

**_“? עקנעליס דעוניטנאָק ימ אָט גניררעפער ווי טקופע”_ **

(“Are you referring to _my_ **_continued_ ** _silence_?”)  The bald angel tilted his head to the right with a slight grin.

**_“.מאַ איך וואָנק ווי”_ **

(“You know I am.”)  Michael stared.

Ozryel nodded, sighing gently before he spoke …

**_“.דלאָה לליץ סמרעט ימ ... ללעוו”_ **

(“Well ...  My terms still hold.”)

**_“? סמרעט רווי”_ **

(“Your terms?”)

**_“.עקנעציקסע דעוניטנאָק סיה .לאַעד לאַניגיראָ ... רואָ Fo .עקורט עהט fo דנאַ וואַן טקופע יעהט סאַ ... צאַעל ירעוו עהט טאַ ... ניאַמער סנאָיטאַדאָממאָקקאַ ימ אונטער”_ **

(“That my accommodations remain … at the very least … as they are now and of the Truce.  Of our … **_original deal_ **.  His continued existence.”)

Michael understood that he did not wish to be buried as the sinful _Sons of God_ had been, entombed and alone for eight thousand years before their ultimate _punishment_ , and he could assure as much.  There was _never_ intention of burying him.  But, his other term …

**_“.סדנאַה ימ ני טאָן ס'טי .סיהט עעטנאַראַוג ט'נאַק איך”_ **

(“I can’t guarantee this.  It’s not in my hands.”)  Michael shook his head.

**_“.סרווי fo טערסעס עהט ראָף דליהק ימ fo יטעפאַס עהט .עלפּמיס טקופע סמרעט ימ? טאָן ווי טקופע, וואַן ראָנרעוואָג עהט טקופע ווי”_ **

(“You are the governor now, are you not?  My terms are simple.  The safety of my child for the secret of _yours_.”)

**_“? הקום אַס ערוטאַערק סיהט ראָף עראַק ווי אָד יהוו? יהוו”_ **

(“Why?  Why do you care for this _creature_ so much?”)  Michael asked.

Locking eyes on Quinlan for a moment before Ozryel looked back to his brother, smiling gently before he spoke…

**_“.ענאָלאַ ... אונטער עב אָט .דעהקאַטעד ... אונטער עב אָט עקיל סלעעף טי טאַהוו וואָנק ט'נאַק ווי .ערוטאַן fo ענאָ ראָף טאָן .לעאַהסים, אונטער עקיל טנעמראָט אויף צו יללאַער ערעהט ... YAD ירעווע לעעף צום רעגנירב טהגיל עהט טאַהוו .נאָיטאַלאָסי ני געזען איך Neves אָטני טוק Neve .צאַעל טאַ עראָמינאַ טאָן ... דאַם טאָן מאַ איך”_ **

(“I am _not_ mad … not anymore at least.  Even cut into _seven_ , I was in isolation.  What _The Light Bringer_ must feel every day ...  There really is no torment like that, _Michael_ .  Not for one _of_ nature.  You can’t know what it feels like to be that ... _detached_ .  To be that … _alone._ ”)

But Michael did _know_ what that felt like, because he’d felt it through his progeny that night he went to _break_ her.  He knew all too well, and as the smile of joy spread across Ozryel’s face, he understood his next words completely as he looked back to Quinlan fondly again …

**_“.עם דעדנואָרג טי צעבער, אָווט fo סוקסען אַ נעעב צודזש עוואַה טהגים Ti .עראָמינאַ טאָן .ענאָלאַ ט'נערעוו עוו, אַיננעללים אַ ני אַרויסלאָזן צריף עהט ראָף .מיה לעעף ... דלואָק עוו .עם הטיוו ערעהט געזען האַ .דיאָוו רואָ ני .דיאָוו ימ ני .ערעהט ילנעדדוס געזען האַ, נעהט דנאַ”_ **

“And then, he was suddenly there.  In my void.   _In our void_ .  He was _there_ with me.  We could … _feel_ him.  For the first time in a millennia, we weren’t alone.  Not anymore.  It might have just been a _Nexus_ of two, but it grounded me.”

**_“.עם דעקסיף האַ”_ **

(“ _He fixed me._ ”)  Ozryel looked back into his brother’s green eyes.

**_“.רעהטאָרב, רעווע סאַ דאַם צו לליץ ער'ווי .ווי גניקסיף אויף ס'ערעהט”_ **

(“There’s no _fixing_ you.  You’re _still as_ mad as ever, Brother.”)  Michael lied.

**_“.מעהט עגנאַהק טאָן לליוו איך .מעהט עוואַעל ראָ מעהט עקאַט .סמרעט ימ טקופע עסאָהט .טאָן סרעטטאַם טי, עוועילעב אָט הסיוו ווי רעוועטאַהוו צעבער, ססענדאַם טאָן צו נאָיטולאָווע”_ **

A simple shrug. (“Evolution is not madness, but whatever you wish to believe, it matters not.   **_Those are my terms_ **.  Take them or leave them.  I will not change them.”)

Michael nodded gently before turning to face Quinlan who was listening to the foreign language as closely as he could.  The _boy_ was smart and to be born of Ozryel, he would have expected no less.  He reached out with his mind now … 

> **_Now_ ** _… it’s your turn, boy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deal or truce that Oz and Michael keep referring to (even in Part 1: A Savage Inconvenience) has not been full explained yet. I’ll get to it eventually.


	4. 1.2 - Justice

[Chapter 1.2 - Justice](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/157963953913/chapter-12-justice)

Michael knew that the next bit would be extremely tricky to navigate, given they were both exceptionally intelligent. Ozryel could pick up the slightest of hints and _no one in existence_ knew him as his older brother did.

“How is–” Quintus started immediately, which Michael halted sharply with his mind.

> _Be mindful of your next words. **For her sake** … knowledge of our acquaintance… needs to be kept **discrete**._ Michael warned mentally as he glanced into Quintus’ concerned pale blue eyes.

The dhampir stared down to the ground as he breathed out slowly, accepting that he was no longer in _any form of control_ , “How is … _Earth_?” He found it difficult to utter the final word, as he finally came to terms with the gravity of his situation, acknowledging that he was no longer _there_ himself.

“Congratulations, General Sertorius. You have saved the world from impending _Divine Retribution_. The infected are now without direction. It will take some time, but I have faith in mankind’s ability to clean up the leftover mess.”

“How is … “ Quintus hesitated again, “How are my _friends_?” He asked, a modicum of desperation for knowledge trailing his normally confident voice.

**_“.סי דליהק רווי וואָה וואָנק אָט סעהסיוו האַ”_ **

> (“He wishes to know how _your child_ is.”) Ozryel chuckled from behind as Michael turned to glare directly at him.

“You had your turn.” He scowled to his always over talkative sibling.

**_“.טעעווס ס'טי קניהט איך .רעה סעקיל האַ? טאַהוו”_ **

> (“What? _He likes her._ I think it’s sweet.”)

**_“.הג איין .וועריזאָן”_ **

> (“Ozyrel. _Enough_.”) Michael attempted to hush him again.

**_“.קניהט איך אָאָט רעה דעקיל איך .סעקיל צודזש נאַהט עראָם Yas ד איך דנאַ … דליהק רווי סעקיל עטיוק האַ צעבער .ענוירעווע … נאַעם איך דנאַ … ענוירעווע סעטאַה האַ .עראַר ירעוו ס'טאַהט דנאַ”_ **

> (“And that’s very rare. He _hates_ everyone … and I mean … **_everyone._** But he quite likes your _child_ … And I’d say _more_ than just _likes_. I liked her too, I think.”)

**_“.עסאַעלפּ .ליירזאָ”_ **

> (“Ozryel. _Please_.”) Michael huffed again.

**_“.אָאָט אונטער טלעף ווי ערוס מ'י .יאָב האָ, פאָאָאָאָ .הטראַע קיין YAD צאַל אונטער דנאַ”_ **

> (“And **_that last day_** on Earth. _Oooof_ , oh boy. I’m sure you felt that too.”)

**_“.פּאָץ .זאָ”_ **

(“Oz. **_STOP_**.”) That old and painfully familiar nickname just rolled off of Michael’s tongue and suddenly everything felt almost more normal to him. Having Ozryel back felt like … _home_ and he was still just as incorrigible as ever. For just an instant, Michael smiled behind his helmet as he felt the effect of Dawn’s sadness wane temporarily.

**_“–יעהט אונטער ניאַטרעק ילריאַף מ'י .טי טלעף ערוס איך? אונטער לעעף טאָן יללאַער ווי האט”_ **

> (“ _Did you really not **feel** **that**?_ I sure felt it. I’m fairly certain that they–”)

**_“!!! לריג עלטטיל ימ אָט האט טיהס עלטטיל סיהט טאַהוו ילטקאַקסע וואָנק איך! אונטער טלעף איך עסרואָק _fo”_**

> (“ ** _Of course I felt that! I know exactly what this little shit did to her!!!_**   ** _For God’s sake, BE QUIET!”_** )

Michael’s frustration peaked as he turned back to Quintus, whose own eyes were full of shock and confusion while he listened intently to the unintelligible argument. The clear attention Michael was giving him caused Quintus to press on, asking his previous question _again_.

“She does not _stop talking_.”  Quintus stated plainly and Michael shifted back to the dhampir.

“No.  He _never_ has.”

“ _Please_ , _Governor_. How are my _friends_?"  Quintus tried again.

"Your _friends_ are alive and safe. You needn’t worry about them now. You’re in _far more danger_ than they are.” Michael offered him. “And if you wish the _girl_ to live, then _her existence_ won’t be mentioned again … to _anyone_ here. _Is this clear_?”

**_“? האַ סעאָד, סרווי ס'עהס וואָנק ט'נסעאָד האַ”_ **

> (“He doesn’t know she’s _yours_ , does he?”) Ozryel questioned, a hint of glee leaking into of his crisp voice.

**_“? צו עהס טאַהוו וואָנק שניי האַ סעאָד? טי ט'נסי, עקאַף רווי נעדדיה עוואַה ווי יהוו ס'טאַהט”_ **

> (“That’s why you have hidden your face, isn’t it? _Does he even know what she really is!?_ ”), Ozryel continued to question gleefully.

**_“.יאַוו אונטער ניאַמער אָט טי הסיוו לליוו ווי נעהט, עוניטנאָק אָט מיה הסיוו ווי FI דנאַ”_ **

> (“And if you want him to _continue at all_ , then it’ll remain that way.”) Michael threatened as he turned back to his beaming brother, pointing a finger.

“Why?” Quintus brazenly asked, his tone raising with protective fervor, “Why do _you_ protect _her_?”

“Don’t concern yourself with _my_ _reasons_.”

“What did the Fire Djinn see in her eyes?” Quintus demanded even harsher as Ozryel’s eyes flashed wider.

 _Damnit._ Michael paused for a moment before he spat back, **_“Do not push me, boy!”_**

“Your hesitation belies _your obvious fear_. You are the _Governor_ here. Surely–”

“Her father is **_important_** to me. Heaven _cannot_ lose him over **_old antiquated laws_**.” Michael stated, “And if _you_ mention her existence to _anyone_ here, I can’t guarantee her safety and therefore there would be _no reason_ for me to guarantee **_either of yours_**.”

Ozryel sighed a nod, understanding the politics that were at play here, “ _You have our word._ ”

“ _Do not speak for me, Snake._ ” Quintus hissed to his maker as Michael turned to demand the same compliance from the dhampir. Flaring his nostrils slightly, Quintus reluctantly nodded, “You have my word … I will not mention her again … but … ”

Michael turned to take his leave and Quintus reached through the bars, putting a finger up and asking gently, “Governor. You mention _danger_ … ” The shiny angel paused to allow him to finish his sentence, “She is … _safe_?”

Sighing heavily as his shoulders fell with annoyance, Michael didn’t wish to visit these emotions right now. He was already struggling to control him as it was as Dawn’s affect on him was nearly overwhelming, so he offered as little information as he could, “ _She breaths. Never ask of her again._ ”

Quintus pressed further, grabbing the bars as he stared, “Why am I here? Why am I … _caged_? Will I be released?”

Michael had _never_ seen the _boy_ so unsure of himself as he was at this moment and he relished in it. _The little shit_. “Your right to continued existence is still up for debate.” The statement was plain.

“ _My right?_ ”

“Nephilim are our most _unforgivable_ sin. They can’t be allowed to suffer an _existence_ , Quintus.” Michael turned to look at him from behind his hidden helmet.

“Then I am to be … **_exterminated_**?” The dhampir asked, not an ounce of anger nor fear audible in his voice though Michael knew it was there.

“ _That_ remains to be seen. There will need to be a judgement levied at the new claim.”

“ _What claim?_ ” Quintus asked as Ozryel grabbed the metal bars, stuffing his forehead between them as he smiled, realizing the trick that Michael had up his sleeve.

**_“.סללעווס ווי ראָף עדירפּ ימ .רעהטאָרב עלטטיל רעוועלק, רעוועלק”_ **

> (“ _Clever, clever_ little brother. My pride for you swells.”) The white-skinned Angel cooed.

“What claim have you made?” Quintus asked, obviously annoyed at being left out of the inside joke.

“I can make no claim. I am the _Governor_. It’s the claim that _Ozryel_ has just now levied against your charge.” Michael turned, giving his brother the chance to answer.

That pleasant smile again as he cocked his head to the right, “My claim that you are _not mine.” He laughed suddenly, “That you are **not** nephilim at all._ ”

Michael nodded and turned to leave, “I will call forth the magistrates and if there is a majority that will hear it, then the hearing will begin tomorrow.”

“ _Thank you, brother!_ ” Ozryel shouted at the Governor as he walked away down the expansive corridor briskly out of their sight without another word, “I really _have_ missed you!”

Quintus stared at the angel across the hallway with an expressionless glare, unable to voice any kind of thought. “What?” Ozryel smiled, “All things considered, I think that actually went _very_ well.”

“ _Hello Brother._ ” Just as Michael entered their presence without either realizing, the mocha-skinned man stood just off to the right and Quintus turned to face him, but the man was focused on Ozryel.

His clothing was fairly modern and Quintus didn’t see armour nor a weapon of any kind. His stature was shorter than theirs by more than a few inches and his skin was darker and flawless while his hair was short and black. But his eyes, they were by far the most catching feature for they were a deep and unnatural violet.

Ozryel’s demeanour changed considerably, as his nervous smile melted into a relieved one, reaching his arms out through the bars towards the man, who graciously accepted the clumsy embrace.

“ _Oh._ ” The bald angel cupped his face in both hands as his eyes welled up with happy tears and his smile broadened even more, “But … I have missed **_you_** the very **_most_**.”

Raphael pushed his forehead against the bars to touch his brother’s as their eyes closed, enjoying the brief contact before Ozryel pulled back, thrusting a hand out towards Quintus and the man turned to face him.

“Quintus … may I introduce you to **_Raphael_**.”

“Hello.” His smile was so broad it was nearly contagious. His teeth were white and glistening, “It is nice to finally meet you.” He asked as he fearlessly offered his palm to the dhampir through the bars.

  


  


* * *

  


Gabriel stood up from the table, kicking his chair back slightly as he huffed in disapproval, “That is _bullshit_. Ozryel has no _right_ to make _any_ claim in our laws any longer. He is _tainted_.”

Michael shrugged simply, “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? That’s the entire _point_ of this.”

“I don’t follow your logic.” Gabriel spat as he narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

“He is tainted only if the _boy_ is deemed _nephilim_. If the boy is not, then Ozryel has been purified of that _treacherous woman’s_ curse.”

Gabriel shook his head, “The chicken and the egg then? He can levy the charge if the charge itself is justified in the end? _That makes no sense_. He is _Nephilim_! To be safe, we should just–”

Raphael’s voice was always welcomed, though he rarely used it _against_ Gabriel … ever, “I’ve seen him. Oz is free of the _curse_ now. The Face of God has purif–”

“ _Bullshit_.” Gabriel sneered at the entire table, providing a sweeping glance at the other generals at the table and hushing his shy brother with a single word.

“Please.” Michael waved a hand back to the seat, urging Gabriel to sit back down, “We’ve come here to discuss things, not to throw unnecessary fits.”

Raphael pinched his temple as Michael stoked their tallest brother’s fury, “ _Fits?!_ ” Gabriel bared his fangs to Michael with a fierce hiss.

“ _Gentlemen, please._ ” [Seraphiel](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSeraphiel&t=NzMxYTE0YjM0ZjVkZDM5NDA2YjgxN2E5Nzk0YmMzY2E1MjNiODZkMix1cnlSc3pVbg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157963953913%2Fchapter-12-justice&m=1), the highest the Seraphim, shook its head again and the rest of the table shuffled moderately with discomfort. The magistrates of the other races whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones with concern.

Gabriel sat back down begrudgingly, pulling his long bronze hair behind him as he gently stroked his salt and pepper beard, “This is not a decision for just _you_ , Michael. There should be a vote on this. Who thinks there even needs to be a trial?” He looked around the table as everyone waited for Michael to raise his hand first and the others all followed suit, even Raphael. “Are you all serious?” His eyes flew to his little brother and Raphael shrugged simply, “ _Fine_. Then I will prosecute him.”

Michael cringed. He had been worried about this scenario. Not taking much interest in courts and the law itself, he had hoped Gabriel would allow those Angels who enjoyed such things to step forward. He knew _everyone_ would fear standing against the towering, angry Archangel and he also knew Gabriel would be hoping for this.

“I will represent him then.” Michael offered and the table erupted into more hushed whispers as Gabriel fiercely shook his head.

“No, you will not. _You will judge him_. That is your duty.”

“No. I must concede _judgement_ for this trial. Ozryel’s fate is too dear to me. I can’t promise to be entirely … _impartial._ ”

“ ** _No_**.” Seraphiel stared at Michael with its black eyes, shifting its six red wings slightly with its trilling _Hennu_ words, “Governor, you will not. We have ultimate faith in your ability to be entirely _impartial_. We trust no others to **_judge_**. This is the law.”

There was a silence that befell the table as none other came forth with an offer of _representation_. Everyone feared Gabriel and his most assured wrath and resentment should they chose to stand against him on this matter. He was a pettiest of angels.

“Will none present the boy?” Michael asked again, his voice pleading ever so slightly. If none would stand, then the laws were clear. If no peers were willing fight for another’s innocence, then the verdict would default to _guilty_.

“Then it is settled.” Gabriel started to chuckle to himself, “Guilty by lack of counsel. By lack of faith–”

“I will stand for him.” The voice was soft and clear as all at the table turned to stare at the usually silent violet-eyed Angel. He was _always_ silent at these types of meetings, just as his massive brother, not giving much care to issues of state.

“Wait … _what_?” Gabriel stared across the table with bewildered, giant eyes, “You would … _stand against me?_ ”

“Not to stand _against_ you … but to stand _for him_.” The look at his face gave away _no emotion_ and Michael’s heart sang a sigh of relief. Other than himself, there was none other than Raphael who _could_ stand against their brother, both mentally or politically.

“ _Why would you do this_? You would chose that _abomination_ over your own brother?” Gabriel continued to gawk in disbelief, his nervousness and concern obvious. The amber-eyed Angel relished in his ability to dominate all of those around him, but even he knew that Raphael was far smarter than he.

Where Michael and Ozryel were _nearly_ perfectly balanced, in mind, body, and spirit. Gabriel and Raphael were not. Gabriel was physically stronger, dominating his little brother in height as well as strength, but Raphael’s mind was far sharper, both in the Nexus as well as intellectually. Michael had often wondered if he might have been _smarter_ than Ozryel, but his quiet nature kept a definitive answer to that question at bay.

Raphael showed a glimmer of emotion as he smiled finally, as genuine as ever, “ _Abomination_ is what is up for debate. And if you would back down and let another prosecute, then I would be happy to stand down as well. Perhaps leaving this to lesser Angels would be for the be–”

“ ** _NO_**.” Gabriel accepted the challenge quickly, “The fate of our brother should be determined by _us_.” He stood as the whispers continued to ripple through the remaining generals at the table. “And I will expect a _fair trial_.” He pointed his finger to Michael who nodded before Gabriel took his leave showing absolute disgust.

As the rest of the company funneled out of the meeting room, Michael nodded a _thank you_ to Raphael as he stood to slip away with the others. He knew it was not an easy thing for his little brother to stand against Gabriel so publicly.

Raphael blinked softly to him.

 

* * *

 

Quintus sat on the ground in the back corner, as far as he could get himself from the light and the prying eyes of his Angel progenitor. She’d _finally_ stopped talking, but after hours he’d found himself restless with the intense solitude and silence.

He opened his eyes from his meditative state and finally spoke first, “Are you a man or a woman?”

Ozryel stirred from her position on the bench, turning to look at him, “I am either. Or I am neither. It matters not to me. Which would you prefer?”

“How can you be both and yet neither.” Quintus questioned further, “You are either one or the other, how can you be both something and its exact opposite?”

Smiling, she stood, “Because … I can _choose_ to be both or I can _choose_ to be neither.” As he saw her body start to change shape, Quintus rose immediately, walking to the bars to get a better view of the spectacle. Her skin shifted from white to tan as her stripes disappeared and her features suddenly became more feminine than masculine, then she shifted it back to the opposite of the spectrum, as she suddenly grew hair. The only piece of her that remained utterly the same no matter what her shape were her scarlet eyes.

“What trickery is this? You possess the power of _illusion_?” He gasped at the feat.

“No. I am a _shifter_. I was made this way. All of the _First_ are. It is how our qliphoth were formed. We are not _confined_ to a particular shape, though it’s easiest for us to revert to one. There are a few _lessers_ who possess the talent, though not quite as well.” She shrugged.

“Qliphoth?”

“[My earthly husk](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FQliphoth&t=MTJiMjZmZWU1MjcyOWEzZjRiNTA4NjcwNjdjMjk1MmM4MzhkMDRjMSx1cnlSc3pVbg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157963953913%2Fchapter-12-justice&m=1). My … shell … if you will. That which houses my divine spirit.” She looked down at her arms as she became what she was before, only slightly making herself more feminine in the process and growing white hair, “If you prefer me to chose, then I will be a woman for you. It will take concentration, but if it will make you more … _comfortable_. Women are the life bringers. I’ve always admired them the most.” She mused.

“I don’t care what you chose to be. It makes no difference to me.” He scoffed as he turned. She was getting enjoyment from his questions and he wished to stop, but his own curiosity got the better of him, “Am I like you? Does my qliphoth allow me to change as well?” He remembered Michael’s words to him while he battled _the Master_ on that island … Michael had told him to **_will it_**.

“I am unsure. You were becoming stronger every year. Perhaps? Well … _when you had one_ , at least.” She grabbed the bars as she stared at him.

Staring down at his own arms, he looked up at her bewildered, “When I had one?”

“You are just a spirit now, child. Your qliphoth was … vaporized. Do you not recall that? That was your fault.” She chuckled as she shook her head.

“And yet yours was not?” He sounded confused and her brows furrowed at his question. Was it that _ridiculous_ of a thing to ask?

“I am _Hayyoth_. _Forever Eternal._ ” She reached her arms to the sky as if she was speaking to God himself, “I can _never_ be truly _destroyed_.”

He found himself nearly speechless as he took a sharp breath in. “It is … _not possible_? Is this … _common knowledge?_ ” He knew that the _Djinn_ had been lying to him about something. He _knew_ there was a hint of insincerity in Barqan’s words and Ozryel could read the surprise on her son’s face quite clearly.

“ _Everyone knows this_. Did you think you could actually destroy me?” She chuckled again.

“I was … _hopeful._ ” _Be careful_ , Quintus told himself suddenly. _Do not trust this **snake**_. “But if you cannot be _destroyed_ , then …”

She completed his simple observation, “ _You sacrificed yourself for … **nothing**._ ” He felt his heart fall suddenly as he leaned back against the wall, defeated.

“I believed my life was bound to yours.” He admitted, “It’s what has always been believed. The _Ancients_ lied to me.”

“We did not lie … **_I did not lie._** ” She shook her head, “It is the truth. Nephilim cannot survive past the destruction of their progenitor, but … “

“ ** _You_** cannot be destroyed.” His disappointment was starting to bubble up inside of him as he sneered at her.

“Exactly.” A simple apologetic shrug, “You have to admit … it was quite clever. It was intended to keep the _Born_ in check. We didn’t want you all rising up to kill us.”

“It did not stop me.” He huffed.

“No, it did not. But you were never like the others. You’ve always been quite different, Quintus. Determined. **_Unconquerable_**.” She purred with pride from her cell as she made a gentle clap with her hands, “And I am quite surprised by your final act as well. I did not see it coming at all.”

“Did not see what coming?”

“Sacrificing yourself. You wanted to live, _I could feel it_. Using the _Face of God_ against me. How did you know?” She squinted as he could feel her fishing for precious information.

“ _You_ used it against _your other pieces_ first. Did you not? It seemed like it had been … effective.”

She nodded, seeming to accept his justification but she pressed further, “True. But … how did you _disarm_ it? In the penthouse … The _Seventh_ made sure there wasn’t enough time. How did you do it?”

 _Hmmmm._ _Awfully good question, wasn’t it?_ “Miss Velders aided in that respect.”

“Hmph. Maybe. She was _quite useful_ , wasn’t she? Very smart.” She squinted at him further, seeming to disbelieve his lie as he refused to give any tells that might disclose his fib. He wondered if she could feel the hesitation from _his mind_ , but she shrugged anyways, “I am grateful to you, in any case.”

“Grateful? Why would you be grateful to me? You are now caged.” He questioned.

“The Seventh had no intention of restoring me fully. It only wished to restore the divinity. It would have left the rest of my spirit and mind to wander in broken isolation.” She seemed sincere in her gratitude and Quintus felt uneasy, “Even in a cage, I am free of the plague now. I am whole again. Restored.” She stretched her arms up over her head and spun around, giving herself more feminine features in the midst of her energetic dance. “"In your quest to destroy me, you in fact, saved me.“

"Your brother is right. You are still _mad_.” He spat at her happiness.

As she twirled to face him, she smiled the largest grin he’d seen so far, _“We are all mad here. I’m mad … you’re mad.”_

Quintus’ face fell into deep furrows, “You … you are quoting _Carroll_ to me right now?” He choked in disbelief. The memories it stirred were bitter and painful.

“Sorry.” Ozryel offered as she sat back down quickly, seeing the result of her transgression, “I am truly sorry. I’ve had him stuck in my head since you kept repeating that _bloody poem_ in your mind before you vaporized us.”

Not wishing to continue with the conversation at all, he stared down to the ground, not wishing to expose his wounded heart to her perception, but unable to fully retain the emotion that flooded from his sorrowed face. She enjoyed quoting _Carroll_ and he could hear her light voice inside of his head even now.

“ _You have to let her go_.” Ozryel softly said from across the way and Quintus finally looked up to an overly serious face. “… _for both of your sakes_. Even if Michael can make it so that you _are welcome here_ , **_she _** can _never_ be.”

He didn’t look up, but he heard Ozryel’s voice yet again, riddled with delight, “Hello again, Brother. Back so soon?” As he looked up, he found the violet-eyed brother staring back into _his_ cell.

“Indeed. But I have not come to see you this time.” He smiled gently as his tone was soothing, “ _Do you mind if we take a walk, Quintus?_ I wish to speak with you privately.”

As Quintus stood, Raphael waved a hand to the bars and his mocha face lit up with light blue electricity that seemed to course through his veins as the worms had coursed through _The Ancients_. As this occurred, Enochian scripts became visible on the bars themselves and enough of the bar seemed to just _vanish_ as he stepped through into the corridor.

The air outside of the cell was brisk and clean and Quintus breathed in deeply, picking up the slightest hint of _Angelica_ as his heart pinched in his chest again causing him to hesitate momentarily. Raphael waved him to walk a head, back the way he came and Quintus felt Ozryel reach out with his mind suddenly, in a rush.

> **_Do not let him in your mind or feel you are connected to the Nexus, child. Raphael is incredibly powerful. Do not give this secret away to him._ **

 


	5. 1.3 - Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a _tad bit boring_ for some. This is a bit of character development between Q and his uncles.

 

Quintus found that the angel had the exact same posture as he did, and they walked very similarly down the immaculate white corridor and hundreds of empty cells. As they passed the cellblock, he was bombarded with an absolute white light that illuminated the _Great Hall_ through its hundreds, if not thousands, of arched windows. He was inside of a building larger than he had ever been before.

Most of it was completely white or a variant very close to it. Possibly either travertine or marble? Quintus couldn’t tell. It might have been a combination of the two, or possibly something different, but his eyes were obvious no longer preternatural in this form. While some surfaces were shiny and others were dull, yet it all seemed to flow together nicely.

Silver, gold, bronze, steel, and copper danced around all of the architectural aspects present. Inlaid throughout in spiraled ornamentation on pillars, statues and arches. He mused to himself that Mr. Fet _will_ enjoy this quite a bit but this invading thought brought sadness to this incredible experience.

While the architecture alone was mesmerizing, the life that buzzed around it was even more so. Quintus saw _creatures_ , some seemed to be at least _part_ man, while others were wholly not. Beings he’d only heard _myths_ about. _There were no exaggerations here._ Hundreds of beings, walking up and down the steps, through the hallway, standing and holding conversations, while some even _flew_ through the corridors.

And it seemed even in the afterlife, he was still not without scrutiny, as many of the hushed beings watched him, as whispers erupted throughout the hallway with his presence. Something large brushed by Quintus and he froze as it walked around him from behind.

 _Oh good gods._ Was that … a _Griffin_?

He watched motionless as the beast walked by him, eyeing him down suspiciously before it and Raphael shared a nod and it galloping down the stairs, disappearing into a floor below.

Staircases spiraled up and down either side of the massive room and as Quintus came to the railing, he looked up and down, unable to see an end in either direction before looking out the windows and across the vivid landscape. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so many colors in all of his life, and he had lived a _very_ long life. The horizon danced and vibrated with hues of blue and purple while the rolling hills played with shifting and varying saturations of greens and browns.

It was all insanely beautiful and life buzzed gloriously _everywhere_ about him, as he assumed it should have been. Whatever amazement he might have been feeling, he kept it at bay and Raphael noticed at once.

“You are not easily impressed, are you?” He approached the railing, placing a gently hand on it as he peered up the stairwell with Quintus. “This usually affects _most people_ … the first time at least.”

“ _I am not most people._ ” Quintus stated simply.

“Absolutely true. And unfortunately that’s why we’re here now.” Raphael smiled as he waved a hand toward the right staircase that spiraled down and they began to walk down in that direction.

“Where is this place?”

“ _Heaven?_ ” Raphael mused and Quintus knew he was egging him on. He knew exactly what the dhampir was actually asking.

“ _Specifically._ ” Quintus began the descent down the stairs and the shorter angel kept heel to him perfect as they skipped down the steps and Raphael smiled.

“Well … _first_. There isn’t really a _where_ anymore. But … **_specifically_** …. You are in the **Citadel** right now. It’s the _center_ of the Capital, if you will. It’s the center of everything here.”

“What do you mean there isn’t a _where_ anymore?” Quintus turned but found the angel smiling, as he expected this question next.

“You haven’t really been through orientation yet. Answers will eventually be provided if … “ The angel trailed off slowly and Quintus nodded.

"If I am allowed to _exist_?”

“Yes.” Raphael gave a single nod as he answered succinctly, waving them off the staircase at the next floor. Quintus had been sure to count every step since they’d left the cell. They’d come down five floors and he was careful to catalogue each turn and doorway taken. He had no handcuffs and on more than one occasion, Raphael had shifted his attention entirely away from the Born.

If he had been on _Earth_ , there was no doubt he would have already been in the wind, but he knew better than to attempt that now. He had no weapons nor any idea where the exit might be and he was ultimately unsure of his own ability to take on a _griffin_ , or any other mythical beast, in his changed state.

“Are you not worried about me fleeing?” He finally pressed, looking at the smaller man as he walked ahead through the open doorway into another endless corridor. This inquiry caused Raphael to smile.

“Flee?” The question was simple and _almost_ confused, but Quintus could tell this was a false innocence.

“From _your_ custody.” Quintus thought it strange that Raphael had taken him out of his cell _alone_.

“You mean _right now_?” The angel seemed amused by the concept, “Well. _You are free to try._ But as I said. There really isn’t a _place to flee from_ , Quintus. And … where exactly would you go? You have no idea where you are, do you?”

“You said there is no _‘where’_ anymore.”

“Exactly.” His smile was genuine, brilliant, and _almost_ contagious. He stopped at a rather plain white door and opened it, waving a hand for the dhampir to enter.

As far as Quintus could see from the hallway, the room itself was detail-less and extremely small, lacking all windows or any other exits. Within it, a maple … _possibly oak, or maybe even some type of dull metal_ … table and two marvelously carved metal chairs.

“Please.” Raphael said again as Quintus hesitated to enter, “You don’t need to be uneasy with me. I mean you no harm.”

“Why are we here?” Quintus’ concern seemed to escalate as the room looked like he might be interrogated. His sudden demand was laced with worry as his flight or fight mentality wrestled within. He did not wish to be locked inside such a small room with the powerful angel.

“As I said … to _speak_. Privately.” As Raphael watched his hesitation continue, he stepped forward first and took a seat at the table, smiling to the dhampir while he blinked softly, waving an open hand to the empty chair. “Please.”

“And we cannot speak out here?” Quintus stood in the doorway, glancing slowly down either direction of the corridor as he wondered how far he might be able to get from the Archangel that sat within. If he could close the door, was he still strong enough to snap the handle off? How strong _was_ this angel? Would Raphael be able to just break the door down? And if so, how far could he _really get_? How fast was he now? Was it worth the effort? He could use it to test the angel’s capabilities at the very least. Would he get _punished_ further with such an action? Quintus’ mind _raced_ with questions and possibilities now as he felt his _heart_ rate increase.

“ _Quintus_.” Raphael said as Quintus diverted his attention from the far end of the corridor back to the soft spoken angel’s violet eyes. He still held a hand towards the other chair as he laughed. “ _Please_. Have a seat.”

 _How far could he get?_ It’s _now_ or _never_ Quintus. **It’s _NOW OR NEVER–_**

Suddenly, Quintus found himself sitting in the chair as he looked up to see Raphael, who was now standing several feet away _at the door_ shutting it softly before returning to his own seat swiftly. Looking around carefully, Quintus touched his own body as Raphael pulled the chair up and put his elbows on the table with a gentle toothless smirk.

“What …” Quintus stuttered ever so briefly before he regained his full composure, and he tensed massively looking back towards the door and then to Raphael again, “ _What was that?_ ”

“I do apologize for that. I don’t normally get … _physical_.” He apologized to Quintus with sincerity, “I didn’t feel like having to run after you. I hope you understand?” The angel smiled wider.

“But …” Quintus pressed again, his brows furrowed with concern He’d _never_ experienced anything like … _that_. “ _What just occurred_?”

Raphael tilted his head slightly, “You know what that was. You were able to do something quite similar, were you not?” He cleared his throat, “… _Or so I have heard._ ”

Shaking his head slightly, Quintus didn’t follow, “I have never been able to … _teleport_.” He nearly choked on the word itself.

“ _Teleport_?” Raphael chuckled in wild entertainment, showing all of his teeth as Quintus got the first unhindered look at the angel’s over developed canines. “No. No. That was just simple _time manipulation_ , Quintus.”

“ _Manipulation_?” The dhampir questioned slowly, not following completely quite yet.

“You could do it as well. When you moved fast … when you _sprinted_ , yes? What did you think was occurring?” Raphael questioned matter of factly. Quintus found it uncomfortable that the angel used _this exact terminology_ for it.

Time did _slow_ around him and he nodded in affirmation, “Yes. But there was _no movement_ in what just occurred.” Quintus shook his head.

That damn smile again, very contagious, “Absolutely. Sure there was. Although … I can move _much faster_ than you ever _chose to_.” He shrugged simply, “And as far as _teleportation_ … No. _That_ feels _quite_ different, I assure you.” Quintus felt a chill run down his spine suddenly as the archangel finished up the sentence with friendly wink of his right violet eye.

“And how _fast_ can you move then?” His interest was stoked as Quintus pressed on now, leaning in to look the angel in the eyes closely, “Is there a limit? For how long can you keep up that speed? Is it indefinite?”

Raphael shook his head with amusement, “Even if I answered all of your questions absolutely honestly, you won’t find what you are looking for.”

Quintus squinted at him with scrutiny, “And what exactly do you think I am looking for?”

“A weakness. _Strategic_ or _physical_ or … _other_. I assure you, there isn’t one, _General_.” Raphael sighed heavily. “So … **_Relax_**. I’m not your enemy.”

“You will forgive me if I have my doubts on that issue.” Quintus leaned back slightly as he scoffed at the simple statement. It was easy to _declare_ one an ally, but it was quite another to _show_ it or _earn_ it.

Raphael nodded, looking down before locking his intensely violet eyes directly with the dhampir’s blue ones, “I know you’ve spent your entire existence _doubting_ that, and while I can both understand and appreciate your apprehension, I need you to understand that I _am_ here to help you. I will be the one _defending_ you in your trial.”

Waving a finger through the air, blue electricity erupted across his face again and the absolutely plain walls, ceilings, and floors were suddenly filled with Enochian symbols, first burning a bright amber and cooling to a soft gray. “Alright. _Now we have privacy._ ”

“ _You_ are defending _me_? Should a _lawyer_ not do this?” Quintus scoffed as Raphael just stared at him for the first time, entirely smileless.

“This isn’t a joke.” The angel’s seriousness was profound. “I need you to take this seriously, please.”

“I understand _the seriousness of this situation_.” Quintus stated as he sighed, relaxing his shoulders finally as he placed his hands on the table interlocking his fingers, staring back with equal intensity of his own.

“It is not just _your_ fate in the balance.”

“Is that your motivation, Raphael? Is it really that simple? You care for Ozryel?” Quintus asked, unable to fully read the angel as he grasped for leverage.

“Do you have family, Quintus?” Raphael asked as the dhampir shook his head in response to the question. “I love _all of my brothers_.” The Archangel professed.

“You worry yet _she claims to be eternal?_ ” He questioned the angel and Raphael nodded.

“Yes. But even those who are _eternal_ can be **_punished_**. I would appreciate your cooperation. If not for your own sake, then for my gratitude.” Raphael clenched his jaw, tangling with his own rising annoyance. Quintus could feel raw emotion seeming to emanate directly from him when the light blue divinity sparked across his face again as he stared down to the table away from the dhampir’s eyes. There was a stiff moment of eerie silence before the angel spoke again, “Quintus, you are _not alone_ here and I assure you that I am a _friend_.”

Neither moved for a tense moment, as Quintus found himself holding his breath while he remembered Barqan’s parting words to him quite clearly:

“You are _not alone_. _There are friends ** _ _everywhere__**._ ”

The implication of this correlation made Quintus feel uneasy as he shifted slightly in his seat. He was under the impression that Michael had been the _friend_ that was implied, but uncertainty riddled him with doubt at _this moment_ and there was absolutely _nothing_ insincere in Raphael’s demeanour nor in his voice.

When the dhampir offered nothing in response, the angel looked up and asked simply, “It is not _just for Ozryel’s_ sake that I have chosen to help you. There is a chance for an unprecedented outcome to occur from a decision of this magnitude. The implications of something like this …”

“Unprecedented in what way?” Quintus’ curiosity suddenly piqued.

“Change. A chance for _evolution_.” Raphael stated plainly. “Things do not … _change here_ … very easily. Old laws … _old rules … old … habits._ ”

“In my experience, allowing too much change anywhere usually leads to … _revolution_.”

“Perhaps.” Raphael shrugged and finally smiled again. “Are we good? May we proceed now?”

“Yes.” Quintus stated with a single nod.

“Excellent.” He had a folder now and as he flipped through it, Quintus looked around quickly. He was sure there had been _nothing_ in the violet-eyed angel’s hands nor in the room and he sighed at the frustration of it all before Raphael spoke again, looking up from the folder as he did so. “Do I have permission to look into your past?”

“My past?” Quintus raised a brow to him.

“Yes.” Tapping his middle finger to his own temple, Raphael said, “Through your memories. I need to understand the extent of your past and what we might be able to use to prove that you are not what they assume you to be.”

Should Quintus really listen to _Ozryel_ at this point? Probably not. But, he also thought he should listen to _Barqan._ The bastard likely sent him to his death. However, Michael had actually helped him before with the bomb, but then had instructed Quintus to _let Dawn perish_.

Not knowing what or who to trust was of great annoyance to him right now. Regardless, the less who knew of her existence, the better and he rotated his head in a circle as he closed his eyes, showing the excess of frustration as he spoke. “You are asking? I am _allowed_ to say no?”

“Of course you are. I would never just _violate_ your mind. Without consent, it can be … _unpleasant_ … for everyone involved.” Raphael sighed heavily, “And, we are _far from_ savages here. Privacy is an important matter–”

“ _Then the answer is no._ ” Quintus stated.

Raphael’s face remained calm, but the light blue electricity sparked throughout his face again as his frustration was apparent, “Quintus.”

“You asked. I have declined. Tell me what you wish to know, and I will provide you the details you require. I have an excellent memory.”

“Do you not care for your own well being?” Raphael postulated as concern overcame his face. “Do you really care for yourself so very little?” His brows furrowed at the conclusion of the question.

“Believe what you will.” Quintus retorted as he fiddled with his fingers and _almost unknowingly_ found himself rubbing the spot on the inside of his own wrist, right where her mark _had been_. Memories and _longing_ flooded him quickly as he heard Raphael speak again.

“No. That’s not it at all, is it? _You want to exist_. _Quite badly, I feel._ Then what is it? What are you so _afraid of right now_? It is _fear_? No … it’s … **_bereavement_** _.” Quintus looked up swiftly, his face full of shock as he saw the blue lines still running across the mocha skin and he realized the angel was _reading him and his emotions_ each time the lightning bounced across his mocha face. **_Shit_**_. “ _Who did you leave behind, Quintus and why does it concern you so much?_ ” His question was full of growing curiosity as his brows came together while he digested the unique flavor of the Born’s sadness.

 ** _Incredibly powerful_ ** was Ozryel’s exact warning and Quintus kicked himself. He was so very good at hiding things externally, but now he would need to hide them internally as well. He breathed out and focused his mind on something entirely different as he remembered his hate for the _Master_.

“Perhaps I just feel that **_Ozryel’s eternal torment_** might be worth the cost of my _own existence_.” Quintus sneered.

“Or … “ Raphael tilted his head to the dhampir as he squinted at him slightly with his vivid eyes, “Perhaps you are hiding something from me? Please, there is no need.”

And now, for the first time since he’d come into the angel’s presence, Quintus grinned as he shrugged, leaning back into his chair as he relaxed a bit, crossing his arms across his chest, “And what could I possibly hide from you … **_Great Exalted One_**?”

“Alright.” Raphael conceded suddenly, though Quintus doubted he would _ever_ give up anything so easily. “Well … What about character witnesses?”

“Witnesses for what purpose?”

“What souls can attest to your humanity?”

Quintus scoffed with laughter, “ _My humanity?_ ”

Shaking his head at the dhampir, Raphael’s face filled with lightning again before he looked back down at the open folder in his hands.

* * *

 

When they had left the room, they turned opposite down the corridor, not returning the direction from which they came. A simple left and another right, and they found themselves back in the corridor filled with the cells and Quintus spun around suddenly. They had gone up no stairs and had walked a quarter of the distance and the dhampir sighed with frustration as they were now back at the cell across from _her._

Once Raphael had closed the bars behind the boy, he turned to take his leave as Oz called out to him from across the hallway.

**_“? ווי עלבואָרט דליהק ימ האט .נוס עלטטיל, יפּפּאַה טאָן טקופע ווי”_ **

(“You are not happy, _little sun_. Did _my child_ trouble you?”) She pressed her face to the bars as she smiled at him.

**_“.רעגנאָל ינאַ הקוס מיה ללאַק האט ווי FI צעב עב דלואָוו טי”_ **

(“It would be best if you did call him such any longer.”) Raphael quipped with a grin, to which Oz chuckled. Proving that he was _not nephilim_ would mean that Oz needed to release _any claim_ she may feel she had on the dhampir.

**_“? טהגיר, סטיבאַה דלאָ .טהגיר עטיוק”_ **

(“Quite right. Old habits, right?”) Oz giggled with a simple and innocent shrug.

**_“… אַס געזען האַ אונטער עם דענראַוו עוואַה טהגים ווי”_ **

(“You might have warned me that he was so … “) Raphael trailed off in his thought as he looked back to Quintus who had taken a silent seat on the bench.

**_”? טנאַסאַעלפּנו"_ **

(“Unpleasant?”) Oz offered.

**_“.עוויטאַרעפּאָאָקנו”_ **

(“ _Uncooperative_.”) Raphael finalized.

**_“.דעגאַק נעהוו טלוסיפפיד צו האַ! נאָסאַער אַ ראָף סוטסיווני דעללאַק צו האַ?!? סייע-עלפּרופּ, סואָירעס ווי טקופע”_ **

(“Are you serious, purple-eyes?!? He is called _Invictus_ for a reason! **_He can be very difficult if he feels caged._** ”) Laughing madly now, Oz closed her eyes in merriment as she waved her head in disbelief.

**_“.עם הטיוו דנים סיה עראַהס אָט דעסופער סאַה האַ דנאַ נאָיטאַמראָפני טואָהטיוו ווי fo רעהטיע ראָף עסנעפעד דאָאָג אַ עדיוואָרפּ טאָננאַק איך .טי דניף טהגים ווי צו גניסומאַ סאַ .ללעוו”_ **

(“Well. As amusing as you might find it. I cannot provide a good defense for either of you without information which he has _refused_ to share with me.”) Raphael huffed in dismay.

**_“? ענאָ עלטטיל, עקנאַץ סילבופּ אַ הקוס עקאַט אָט … ללאַ fo … ווי עסואַק דלואָוו טאַהוו? עסנעפעד סיה עב לליוו ווי? ווי עב לליוו Ti .נעהט אַס”_ **

(“So then. It will be **_you_**? You will be his defense? What would cause _you_ … of all … to take such a _public_ stance, little one?”) Oz pressed her serious face against the bars again.

**_“.ווי סעטאַה האַ”_ **

(“He hates you.”) Raphael peered back to Quintus one final time and noted that the dhampir had laid with his back down on the bench, closing his eyes and placing his hands, interlocked over his stomach in peace as he ignored them.

**_“? מיה עגראַהק לליוו אָהוו .נאָיצעוק ימ דעדיאָוואַ עוואַה ווי צעבער .אַיננעללים ראָף דערוטראָט געזען האַ .נאָסאַער דילאַוו הטיוו דנאַ טבואָד טואָהטיוו”_ **

(“ _Without doubt_ and with valid reason. He was tortured for millennia. But you have avoided my question. Who will charge him?”) Oz pointed out succinctly which caused her brother to turn and face her in utter silence.

**_“.לליוו טי עסרואָק Fo .נעהט לעירבאַג עב ללאַהס טי … הההאַ”_ **

(“Ahhh … It must be _Gabriel_ then. But of course it will.”) She understood the situation immediately. No matter how much they all seemed to dislike him, Gabriel was a force to be reckoned with. He might not be _as smart as_ his brothers, but his intelligence rivaled all else who existed.

**_“.טלואַף ימ ללאַ צו סיהט”_ **

(“This is all my fault.”) Raphael seemed to break down suddenly as shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. His shoulders fell and his right hand came up to cover his eyes as shame overwhelmed him.

**_“.טאָן ילעטולאָסבאַ .אָן”_ **

(“ ** _No. Absolutely not._** ”) She assured him through a sneer as she reached through the bars as far as she could, enticing him to take her hand.

**_“–טאָן דאַ איך אויב”_ **

(“If I had not–”) He began, but she immediately interrupted him, thrusting her hand to him again.

**_“? עם עוואַס אָט דעירט טאָן דאַ ווי FI? טאַהוו טאָן דאַ ווי אויב”_ **

(“If you had not _what_? If you had not tried to _save me?_ ”) She choked as he stepped forward and took her grip as the lightning streaked across his face again.

**_“.עם fo עסואַסעב … עסואַסעב רעדנוסאַ ווי טוק ילנאָ האַ”_ **

(“He only cut you asunder because … because of me.”) The blue sparks continued to flood across his skin as his wrestled the emotions within. It was so unlike him to lose control this way in front of _anyone_.

**_“.עם הטיוו דעטסעננאָק עוואַה טאָן דלואָהס ווי .יאַוו רעהטאָ אויף איר דאַ עוואַה דלואָוו איך .ווי עוואַס אָט רעדנוסאַ עם טוק האַ”_ **

(“He cut me asunder to _save you_. I would have had it no _other way_. You should not have connected with me.”) She shook her head fiercely.

**_“–ווי דניף דלואָק איך טהגואָהט איך .ווי פּלעה דלואָק איך טהגואָהט איך”_ **

(“I thought I could help you. I thought I could find you–”) He began again in his shame.

**_“.טאַהט עעס דלואָק האַ .לאָאָף אויף צו לעירבאַג .ללאַ ווי אָטני … ווי אָטני קקאַב דעדאָאָלף אונטער רעה געזען טי, עם אָט דעהקאַער ווי נעהוו .יאַוואַ דנים ימ נראָט דאַ עהס .דעטפּורראָק … ידאַערלאַ געזען איך .ענאָ טעלאָיוו, צאָל ידאַערלאַ געזען איך”_ **

(“I was already lost, _violet one_. I was already … _corrupted_. She had torn my mind away. When you reached to me, it was her that flooded back into you … into you all. Gabriel is no fool. He could see that.”) She assured him.

**_“–י”_ **

(“I–”) He tried again.

**_“.ווי דלואָהס רעהטיען דנאַ .סנאָיטקאַ סיה ראָף לעירבאַג עמאַלב טאָן אָד איך .ללאַ ווי עוואַס אָט עם טוק האַ .ווי עוואַס אָט … עם טוק האַ”_ **

(“He cut me … _to save you._ He cut me to save _you_ **_all_**. I do not blame Gabriel for his actions. And neither should you.”) She smiled at him so deeply now as Raphael remembered that night clearly in his mind again. When the three of _them_ had been sent to _cleanse_ and he had felt the corruption inside of Ozryel’s mind, even from _confines of Heaven_. When he and Uriel had gone, in desperation, to help even as _Father_ had screamed for them not to. The only day that he had ever defied _Father_ , and the loss had been almost unbearable.

**_“.סיאַוו דלאָ עהט ני טעס לליץ צו האַ”_ **

(“ _He_ is still set in the Old Ways.”) Raphael answered, wishing to make excuses for his _Other_.

**_“.סעטיסאָפּפּאָ נעעב סיאַוולאַ עוואַה אָווט ווי .נעעב סאַה סיאַוולאַ האַ”_ **

(“He _always_ has been. You two have _always_ been opposites.”) Oz reached out of the bars and took Raphael by the face eagerly. He touched so few, but she has _always_ been one of the exceptions.

**_“… ימ מאָרף Deen ווי האט טאַהוו? וואַן ווי עהקאַ סעלבואָרט טאַהוו … צעבער”_ **

(“But … what troubles _ache_ you now? What did you need from my … “) She caught her folly mid-delivery and halted her words immediately.

**_”… גניהטעמאָס עב טהגים ערעהט .דנים סיה אָטני עעס עם tel אָט דעסופער האַ צעבער, דלואָק האַ טאַהוו דעדיוואָרפּ האַ .לופעסו גניהטעמאָס הטיוו עם עוויג טהגים אונטער גניהטינאַ .נאָיטאַמראָפני? סוטניוק מאָרף"_ **

(“From Quintus? Information. Anything that might give me with something useful. He provided what he could, but he refused to let me see into his mind. There might be something … ”) Raphael sighed.

**_“? הסיוו ווי נאָיטאַמראָפני עהט עקאַט צודזש טאָן ווי דלואָק”_ **

(“Could you not just _take_ the information you wish?”) She was so smart, but Raphael could _feel_ that she was fishing for information.

**_“… צו האַ .עסאַק סיה ני עלביססאָפּ עב דלואָוו טי FI ערוסנו מאַ איך צענאָה עב אָט, דנאַ .טנאַסאַעלפּנו … אונטער דניף איך”_ **

(“I find that … _unpleasant_. And, to be honest, I am unsure if it would be possible in his case. He is …”) He shook his head.

**_“? גנאָרץ”_ **

(“Strong?”) Oz offered.

**_“.נראָבבוץ”_ **

(“ **Stubborn**.”) Raphael finalized.

**_“.רעהטאָם סיה … מאָרף טי נעטטאָג עוואַה טהגים האַ עוועילעב איך צעבער, עם מאָרף אונטער באַן האַ Yas דלואָוו איך .דעעדני”_ **

(“Indeed. I would say he got that from _me_ , but I believe he might have gotten it from … _his mother_.”) She laughed again, gripping his warm hand firmly with the final word, indicating that she had conveyed something important to him.

**_“? רעהטאָם”_ **

(“ _Mother?_ ”) Cocking his head to the right, he blinked to her through the bars.

**_“.רעהטאָם נאַמוה סיה .דעעדני”_ **

(“Indeed. _His human mother._ ”) Raising her brows to him playfully, she smiled at him with hidden intentions as she repeated the word again.

**_“? רעה רעבמעמער ווי od”_ **

(“Do you remember her?”) Raphael pressed as he squinted to his overly clever sibling.

**_“.יאָב רעה עקיל צודזש, גנאָרץ דנאַ רעוועלק .עלבאַפּאַק עטיוק … געזען עהס רעבמעמער אָד איך .דעטניאָדזשסיד … דנאַ דלאָ צו עקנעירעפּקסע עריטנע עהט .ססעקאָרפּ אָט טלוסיפפיד טקופע סדראַהס עהט fo סעיראָמעם .ללעוו ירעוו טאָן”_ **

(“Not very well. Memories of the shards are difficult to process. The entire experience is old and … disjointed. I do remember she was … _quite capable. Clever and strong, just like her boy._ “) Oz chuckled.

**_”.לופפּלעה טאָן ס'טאַהט"_ **

(“That’s not helpful.”) Raphael shook his head,

**_“.סייע יאַרג עקרעיף הקוס הטיוו עדנאָלב, ללאַט .ילעוואָל געזען עהס … רעבמעמער איך .ילעוואָל געזען Ti .רעה מאָרף עמאַן אַ דענאַעלג איך .רעצאַם רעה עמאַסעב יללוף סוטניוק עראָפעב דנאַ דעדאַווני סמראָוו עהט סאַ … דנים רעה מאָרף דעקאַעל .עמאַן א”_ **

(“A name. Leaked from her mind … as the worms invaded and before _Quintus_ fully became her _Master_. I gleaned a name from her. _It was lovely._ I remember … _she was lovely._ Tall, blonde with such _fierce_ gray eyes.”) Oz closed her eyes and focused, gripping both of his hand with each of hers through the bars as she pawed through her disconnected memories.

**_“? רעה עזינגאָסער ווי דלואָוו, Niaga רעה איז געווען וו”_ **

(“If you saw her again, would you recognize her?”) Raphael’s eyes flashed wide with growing optimism.

**_“.רעהטאָרב עלטטיל, טבואָד אַ טואָהטיוו”_ **

(“Without a doubt, little brother.”)

**_“? ליירזאָ, עמאַן עהט געזען טאַהוו”_ **

(“What was the name, Ozryel?”) Raphael pressed, seemingly desperate.

**_“.אַיראָנאָה”_ **

(“[Honoria](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wiktionary.org%2Fwiki%2FAppendix%3ARoman_female_given_names&t=MDJmMzNmZDYwYjFiOTI5OGM5ZjNiY2JiMjJiZTY5MDc5N2ZmZjJkNCxFaW8zUnFweg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158083146868%2Fchapter-13-justice&m=1).”) She smiled sadly as she spoke it. It seemed to be _so very fitting_ to be the mother of _Invictus_.

**_“? נעהוו .יטינגיד … יטירגעטני, מעעצע”_ **

(“[Esteem, integrity … dignity.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.babynamewizard.com%2Fbaby-name%2Fgirl%2Fhonoria&t=MTNmMzI1ZmNhYjBjNzg2Yjc3YjFjZGQyODlmMjc2ODI4NzY4MmMxNCxFaW8zUnFweg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158083146868%2Fchapter-13-justice&m=1) When?”) Raphael nodded to the name, repeating its meaning to himself before he asked.

**_“.ד.אַ 93 fo ללאַף עהט ני רעה קאָאָט איך קסאַרהט ווי”_ **

(“As Thrax, I took her in the fall of 39 A.D.”) Oz looked down as the smile left her face, replacing it with a solemn frown after the sad disclosure.

**_“.רעהטאָרב, ווי קנאַהט”_ **

(“Thank you, brother.”) Raphael clasped her hands tightly as she smiled returned his brilliant and contagious smile.

**_“.קקול דאָאָג”_ **

(“Good luck.”) Ozryel smiled as she released her grip on him.

“See if you can help him with his … _appearance_.” Raphael said loudly in English as he heard Quintus stir and sit up behind him with the use of a known language.

“ _What makes you think he will listen to me?!_ ” Ozyrel laughed out loud with an amused howl.

“I hope so. It would really help if he didn’t _look just like you_ during the trial.” Raphael turned, locking eyes with the dhampir who was now sitting up on the bench.

“What is wrong with my appearance?” Quintus was puzzled as he looked down at his clothes.


	6. 1.4 - Justice

> _There are words in my mind in the candlelight_
> 
> _[Cown](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.urbandictionary.com%2Fdefine.php%3Fterm%3DCOWN&t=ZmFmNDNhN2VhMTEyZjdlMmU0ODQ1M2Y0ZDIzNjNiMjc1NmRhZDhjOSx4MW5GeDRMeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158162802268%2Fchapter-14-justice&m=1) hands on my heart keeping slow time_
> 
> _And I started to reflect on all that’s been before_
> 
> _Started to wonder, but, but you can’t be sure_

He wasn’t sure how long had passed since he’d arrived but he knew it seemed much longer than just a few hours. It was possible it could have been days. There was no hunger, no longer a need for food, so there were no meal deliveries upon which he could attach a time table. There was no day or night, at least not in the cell block that housed them. There was neither fatigue nor sleep.

Even though Quintus was used to waiting, even though he was used to showing impressive amounts of patience. _This_ … this was something fundamentally more maddening and torturous. There was simply _nothing_. No sounds, no guards, no smells, no tastes. There was _nothing_. No pillows, no bed, no sheets, no sink, not even any _fucking_ dust.

Moving helped him pass the time so he did it often. Shifting from sitting on the bench, to laying on it, to laying on the ground, to sitting on the ground, to pacing back and forth, to sitting against the wall and then back to pacing. He repeated the cycle again and again. Occasionally he would try to meditate but Ozryel always took _that_ for an opportunity to speak to him, which he would ignore entirely. Sometimes, he was almost certain that time would speed up and other times he was absolutely _sure_ it was slowing down.

In the end, he was _almost_ thankful for Ozryel’s presence, as he was sure he might have started to question his own sanity eventually. When the solitude was unbearable, he would ask a question or two and she would gleefully relinquish the answers before silence would befall them again. The longer he spent with the angel, the less like the _Master_ he realized she was, but he was nowhere near _any_ level of forgiveness.

Hours passed, or at least what he assumed to be hours, and he broke the agonizing silence.

> “What will the trial be like?” Quintus asked from the floor and Oz peaked her head up from her own fake slumber.
> 
> “Less formal than you might be accustomed to. _Lots of arguing_. It is more like an informal debate than an official _trial_.”

Hours again … maybe days …

> “Who will prosecute?”
> 
> “My ‘little’ brother.” She quoted the word little with her fingers in the air, “Gabriel.”

He would grow quiet again for what might have been days more, before he would get antsy and ask the next question.

> “Who will judge?” He asked next.
> 
> “The judge is always one of the Governors.” Oz laughed lowly to herself, “And since there is just _one_ now, it will be _Michael_.”

He nodded, accepting the explanation with some degree of relief. _Michael_ liked him … right? He furrowed his brows as he was quite certain the archangel hated him actually. Hmmmm. He was not sure if that would bode well for him or not. Another few hours and Quintus’ curiosity could take it no more.

> “Why would it not be judged by … _God himself_?” He questioned.
> 
> “Excellent question, isn’t it?” Ozryel tapped the back of her head against the wall as she kicked her legs in the air from her seated position on the bench, “Why would _God_ have let _any_ of this happen, right? I have a suspicion that it doesn’t know. I imagine _The Creator_ is absent … _yet again_.”
> 
> “Absent … _again_?” He cocked his head to the right and Ozryel smiled meekly.
> 
> “Vacation, maybe? It was **_our_** assumption anyways, seems to be accurate. It was absent the last time the world went to shit as well.”
> 
> Hours again and Quintus finally bit …
> 
> “Why was that your _assumption_?” He pressed immediately.
> 
> “There has been little to _no_ real divine intervention for over _two thousand_ years. The Ancients assumed there had been another _absence_ , otherwise the _Seventh_ would never have made such a brazen grab for power.”

Quintus nodded and laid down on the ground, clasping his hands over his stomach as he stared up to the detail-less ceiling. He wished there was a blemish anywhere on _anything_ that he might be able to stare at, but alas. Everything was obnoxiously pristine.

He tried not to let it get him down too much as he’d been in far worse conditions, he supposed. A small smile crept upon his face as he wished he’d had even some of those little number puzzles that she had liked doing in _her boredom_. The smile was short lived as he pushed the memory out of his mind quickly, wishing to avoid the worry and sadness that might follow it. He stood in his frustration and paced again … for hours.

> “When will it happen?” He asked next.
> 
> “When they get around to it. When everyone is prepared. Raphael has a bit of a rabbit hole to jump into.” When he looked over, Ozryel seemed to be doing yoga now as she spoke while coming up into [Warrior II Pose](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.yogajournal.com%2Fpose%2Fwarrior-ii-pose%2F&t=NWZhNDQyMjg1MDIxOWZiY2RhM2E5NDZhMGU3MzJkYTdmODQ4MjI2Yix4MW5GeDRMeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158162802268%2Fchapter-14-justice&m=1).
> 
> “What kind of rabbit hole?” Quintus pressed again and Oz gave him an impressively big toothless smile.
> 
> “I can’t ruin the surprise, Quintus.” She winked with a genuine smile and he huffed as she went into [Warrior III](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.yogajournal.com%2Fpose%2Fwarrior-iii-pose%2F&t=YTVkZWQ4M2UwMTk3MzU3NjQ0MTI4YjYwYmE2NTkzNDlkNmIyYjgyNSx4MW5GeDRMeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158162802268%2Fchapter-14-justice&m=1) next.

Sitting on the bench, he began to mull over the Enochian he’d heard Raphael and Ozryel share. He’d cataloged and stored it all, even the strange sounds he had no idea [living things](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FLiving_creatures_%28Bible%29&t=MmM1M2NkYjUwMmY3MjdmODllNmUwNjcyNjIxMzQ2YzY5ODNkODYyYyx4MW5GeDRMeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158162802268%2Fchapter-14-justice&m=1) could even make. He contemplated over it in his head against the pieces of the mispronounced words that Abraham had taught him, but he was unable to make any logic from it no matter how much he tried. Hours flooded by and he stood, coming to the bars and watching the angel as she laid entirely motionless in the floor, arms and legs spread as wide as she could get them.

“How long do you think we have been here?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question.” She peeked only one eye open and looked at his frustrated face before she sat directly upwards in her cell.

“What is difficult to understand about it?” He asked, suppressing his growing annoyance. Why did she have to be so damn odd?

“Time doesn’t work as you might assume here.” She offered as she scrambled to her feel with no grace at all, stumbling and catching herself against the bar as she giggled.

“How so?”

“ _OOooooh, I get three whole questions this time?!_ ” She squealed in glee and Quintus waved her off, turning from her before he started to pace again, but she was eager to keep the conversation flowing, “On _Earth_ , time is perceived and experienced very rigidly. _Man_ thinks of it like a mountain. Unmovable. But here, time is more like a river. It is far more fluid than you are used to.”

“ _Fluid_? Explain this.” It was a request, but his execution of the sentence was direct and came across rude. She smiled at his failed attempt to be more _amicable_ to her. When she gave no response, he cleared his throat and uttered a single word quietly, “ _Please_.”

“Just as a river, it can only flows a _single direction_ , but the speeds of its current can vary. It can speed up, it can slow down. It can even be _stopped_ to some extent, but just like water, there are consequences to damming anything too long that should be _flowing freely_.” She explained simply and Quintus nodded. The more time they spent together, the _less crazy_ she seemed to be, though he was sure she was still _not entirely there_. The effects of being _broken_ seemed to be lessening.

“And how does that _align_ with _Earth_?” He pressed and she smiled at the cleverness of the question.

“It doesn’t. Well it does, but not exactly. Not precisely.” She shrugged and he squinted at her as she jumped at the chance to explain it to him further, “Ok, think about it like this … We are all part of the same machine. Think of the four realms, one giant machine.”

“Four?” He questioned immediately and she waved a hand at him to be quiet so she could finish.

“Everything comes in fours.” She shrugged off the question and continued, “One big machine, yes?” He nodded as she continued, “Everything spins together. Think of the force of the spinning as _a function of time_.” He nodded and she continued again, “But, each of the realms is a gear in _this machine_ and gears are of different _sizes_ than each other. They move at different rotations, _but they all have to move together._ They have to or else the machine breaks and everything stops moving forward.” She waited for him to nod again but he didn’t.

Quintus cocked his head to the left, “So, we share a forward momentum with the other realms, but not necessarily at the same speed?”

“Yes!” She was pleased as she clapped at his revelation, “And sometimes the gears change size. But that’s a whole different thing.” In her pride, she flashed her smile and showed him her full set of teeth as he spied the same set of overdeveloped canines that he’d seen on Raphael.

“How long do you think we have been here … relative to _Earth’s_ time?” He asked his first question again, but qualified it further.

“I don’t know, my child. Maybe minutes? Maybe days? It’s possible … years … ” She answered, her face full of sorrow as she broke what she knew _might_ be tragic news to him.

“Years?” He whispered as he sat back down on the bench, reeling from the sheer possibility of it as his mouth stayed agape. “ ** _No_**. Could it really have been … _years_?”

“I really don’t know … “ She shook her head and kicked the bars in her own frustration, “It’s hard for me to feel from inside of this … **_trap_**.”

It felt like hours more of silence and he closed his eyes while thinking about the past often, pondering over and kneading the decisions that had been made while second guessing himself over and over … _and over again._

> _Had he been right to be angry with Barqan at all? Should he have trusted him?_

As his frustration over being deceived by the _Black King_ melted away, he really wasn’t sure anymore. The _Djinn_ had kept something important from him, but even at the time, he already _knew_ that. Being able to determine if someone was lying had always been one of his better talents. And as such, Barqan had been telling the truth about the dangers to both of them, and now he understood with his own impending trial, that the dangers to _her was_ **_truth_**.

> _But could the engineers have configured a workable remote detonator?_

Did he have to sacrifice himself? Was that even a _possibility_? _The Master_ was almost unstoppable even by the time they got to him. How long would it have taken the women? If he hadn’t made Dawn run off in understandable rage that morning, was it possible they could have gotten something to work by _that evening_? _No. It wasn’t. The storm would have made any venturing for supplies_ **_impossible_**. They wouldn’t have been able to retrofit the device in time to stop the _Master_ from becoming unstoppable.

And that line of thinking was entirely moot because deep down inside, Quintus knew he would _never_ have given up that _day_ for anything in the world. _That day … the time he’d spent with her … in that cabin … the memories_ of it began to leak into his mind again and he shoved them again as he slapped his hand palm down on the bench, standing and pacing again.

> “Is escape a possibility?” He grabbed the bars as he asked, his eyes finally pleading with her for some amount of cooperative help as his hatred towards her was slowly chipped away.
> 
> “ _No_. Not from the inside. The Seals are … _unbreakable_. Even for me.” She frowned to him. “I am sorry. Besides … there would be _nowhere to go_ , Quintus.”

He found himself angry now. So alone and so very out of control. He was used to being solitary, but he _hated_ being out of control. The situation overwhelmed him _finally_ and he spun with rage as he kicked the unmoveable bars. Ozryel watched with sadness as he melting down right in front of her.

He screamed as loud as he could, cursing in languages he’d thought he’d forgotten as he punched and kicked everything that he could. Unleashing his rage on the bars, walls, and bench, everything seemed to be impervious to _any_ and _all_ damage. He felt the tears streaming down his face while he beat his fists against the back wall trying to at least hurt _himself_. _He wished to feel something … to feel anything_ , but it seemed that even _he_ was immune to harm and as he succumbed to utter defeat, he fell back against the wall and slid down onto his backside, his legs straight out in front of him as his arms went limp to his sides.

She’d come to the bars at the start of his _fit_ and just watched in utter silence until he got it all out of his system and finally gave up. “Quintus?” She asked so very quietly from her cell.

He stared down at his gloves and wondered why he was even still wearing them. Shaking his head, he spoke with a crippled voice, still cracking from the tears that continued to stream down his cheeks, “ _I just left_ **_them_** _there … I shouldn’t have–”_

> _(I just left ** _ _her__** there … )_

“Quintus.” Her voice was sharp, “Do not doubt your actions. _You saved_ **_everyone_**.”

> _(You saved ** _ _her__**.)_

“I left **_them_** there … I thought it was the only option … I thought–”

> _(I left ** _ _her__** there.)_

Quintus hit the back of his head against the brick wall as hard as he could and felt nothing. He just … left **_her_** there. For how long now? Minutes? Hours? Days? **_Years?_**

“It _was_ quite literally _the only option_. Look at me. _LOOK AT ME._ ” She _shook_ the bars to garner his attention and as he looked up finally, he realized that she was _that much stronger_ than him for unlike for him, the bars actually gave some indication that _she_ existed as they creaked under her shake. “ _Believe me, there was no other choice._   I am still not even sure how you pulled it off.”  She squinted, “You were stronger that we’d _ever seen_.”

“You already said it yourself. I sacrificed myself for noth–”

“If you had not come, then who would have done it? Who **_could_** have done it? Who could have kept _the Seventh_ at bay?” She asked as she shook her head to him, “Do not doubt your actions. You saved **_them_** all. You saved **_us_** all.”

“ _We_ could have done something else. They could have configured a remote detonator–” He shook his own head, in disbelief over his own decisions and Ozryel interrupted him again.

“Do you think that would have worked? Honestly?” She asked simply and he looked up to her.

“Why not?”

“You only had a single bomb, yes? What if it didn’t work? What if _the Seventh_ saw it coming? And as I recall, you _barely_ made it in time as it was.” She pointed out and Quintus shrugged as he stared back down to his hands before he began to pull the leather confines off of them, throwing them across the room one at a time as she spoke again, “ _The Seventh_ was _very nearly_ an Archangel at that point. If _it_ had made that transition, then there would have been no hope for anyone … Not for _you_ … not for **_them_**. It would have come for **_you all_**.”

Quintus hit his head against the back wall again as he sighed, “But–”

“Doubt and regret will do nothing for you now.” She said and he looked back to her at that word … _regret_. “Do not doubt your actions, Quintus. Whether or not it makes sense to you right now, it was the only play and … you saved **_us all_**.”

“I am _not a savior_.” He huffed as he hit the back of his head against the wall yet again.

“Perhaps you are not _the hero of lore_ , but …” She grinned pleasantly to him. “What you did was _heroic_ nonetheless.”

He shook his head, “No. I have done things … I have done _such terrible_ things.” Looking around the cell before him, he stated, “ _Maybe this is what I do deserve_. I have _never been a_ **_good person_**. I should not even _be … here_.”

“Where do you think you should be?” She laughed.

“Tartarus? Hell?” He mused as he nodded, “I always assumed I would go to eternal torment and that I would pull you down to burn with me.” He smiled at that last statement.

Chuckling as she spun around again, “Well … I guess you might have been right then. _This is kind of like a type of hell_ , yes?”

He found himself biting back a chuckle as he looked at her again. “Why though?” He shrugged, “Why am I not _there_ instead of _here_? Will they send us there next?” He asked as calmness finally began to take root in his demeanour again.

“You are a _Divine Being_ , Quintus. _Anything_ with divinity that experiences the _First Death_ comes here. That is how it has always been. There _is but one exception to that law_.”

“That is?” He queried.

“Suicide, my child. There is one _sin_ that is … unforgivable.” She stated plainly before she chuckled. “Well … that and of course… _angel and human fornication_.” The last word she raised her eyebrows in a playful way as she winked at him and he rolled his eyes, biting back another ridiculous chuckle.

“So, she will come here when she dies?” He dropped the obfuscation of the conversation and asked directly but hopefully and Ozryel shook her head carefully.

> **_It is best not to discuss these things._** Ozryel bit back to him through his mind as she spoke out loud at the same time.

“All humans who live good lives will come here, yes. If your friends are good people, they shouldn’t have to worry.”

Quintus tried to reach out with his mind at this point, but he failed. He knew he had pushed a word to the _Master_ during their _fight_ on the island, but so far he’d been entirely unable to recreate that experience and her expression of extreme frustration was clear to him that he needed to tread carefully so he dropped the question, returning to comment on her previous statement instead.

“So, we are not held to the same moral laws as _Man_?” His amusement abated quickly as he gawked at the inequity of it all.

“No. We are not. We never have been. It is a good thing or … well … _Michael_ and _I_ … well **_most of our kind _** … would have been sent to Hell _long ago_.” She admitted, “You think _you_ have done terrible things, child? You have no idea. I have killed more than you could possibly imagine. And I am _not_ talking about my time as _Seven Strigoi Lords._ I have committed _genocide_ so very many times.” The smile melted from her face as she looked down at her own slender hands in guilt.

“Why?” He asked as he took in her sadness. He could _feel_ it from her.

“We are servants. We are soldiers.” She continued to stare down at her palms as she shook her head in bitter denial. “It was our **_duty_**.”

Staring at her for a moment in silence, he understood this response fully and he empathized with it entirely. He hated that he was feeling that emotion towards _her_. Standing again, he collected his shattered emotional state and put himself back together. He had no definitive answer on what the future may hold, but with this conversation he had cultivated the smallest bit of hope within himself.

Regardless of what had driven them apart, perhaps it would not be forever and at this moment he was utterly resolved to do whatever was necessary to find her again.

He turned to Ozryel, wishing to no longer be difficult, and asked, “What did Raphael mean about _my appearance_?”

Ozryel grinned madly, “Ah, _finally_.”

 

* * *

 

> _Hold_
> 
> _Hold on_
> 
> _Hold on to me_
> 
> _‘Cause I’m a little unsteady_
> 
> _A little unsteady_

Raphael knocked gently on the door and waited for his older brother to call him within. When he entered, he was amazed to see piles of paperwork flooding over Michael’s desk, many papers having fallen onto the ground below while his blonde brother was standing at the windows, staring directly downward, towards the very base of the Citadel where the cell block was housed.

“Brother?” Raphael inched up as Michael swung around, seemingly distracted by everything at once and in shock to see his little brother even though he had _just_ granted him access to enter.

“Yes? What is it?” He pressed immediately.

“Are you unwell?” Angels didn’t get _unwell_ , but Raphael asked anyway, as his brother’s wild eyes concerned him greatly.

“No matter how many times you ask me that, my answer won’t change. What do you need from me?”

Raphael scrunched his nose up as he stated plainly, “But … you haven’t left this room in _weeks now_. It is concerning.”

Shrugging his little brother off, Michael sat in his oversized chair and picked up a handful of papers, “I usually don’t leave here. Where _the fuck_ would I go anyways? Look at all of this work.” He peered to Raphael with even wilder eyes and his little brother took a small step backwards.

“You usually … _got out_ … occasionally. I’m unsure where. I was just–” Raphael stuttered at his brother’s vulgar language and Michael sharply interrupted.

“What _is it? What do you want, Raphael? Out with it. My god, stop beating around the bush._ ”

Blinking timidly, Raphael looked from side to side swiftly, “I think we are both prepared to start the proceedings.”

 _“YOU THINK?”_ Michael pushed roughly. “If you are unsure … we can wait as long as–”

“We **_ARE_** ready to proceed.” Raphael needed to use more direct language it seemed.

Michael sighed as he nodded, “Tomorrow, it starts then.” He waved him to the door and Raphael delayed further.

“Brother, I would like to ask you _again_ for permission to _push_ into his mind.”

“I already told you. If he doesn’t wish it, then no. Has he changed his stance on the subject?” Michael squinted at his brother strangely and Raphael shifted in his stance.

“No. He has not.”

“Then no. We aren’t savages, Raphael.” Michael quipped and Raphael sighed heavily.

“If he is keeping something from me that might exoner–” Michael cut him off rudely yet again.

“He said **_no_**. You can’t save someone who apparently _wants to burn_.” He barked at the violet-eyed angel as Raphael nodded in acceptance as he waited further. “Anything else?”

“Brother, it’s quite obvious … “ The words trailed off and Michael tilted his head as the wild eyes returned.

"Obvious that _what_?” He demanded from his little brother.

Nervousness seemed to drain away from Raphael’s face all at once and he looked at his brother with calm eyes as the lightning sparked across his face, “It’s obvious Ozryel’s return has left you … _uneasy_. If you would like help to finish with the influx of paperwork, I can have help provided to you.” He waved at the chaotic desk and Michael looked around, suddenly easing from his brother’s gentle presence.

“Yes. _Yes_.” He breathed out as he spun the chair to look out the windows again, “That would be nice. Thank you, Raphael.”

Never turning back around, he assumed Raphael nodded to him before departing and he sat completely still as he stared out across the vivid colors and clouds. He looked at the staff, resting against the wall and stood, taking it in his hand as he focused on _her._

“Please …” He spoke softly, “ _Please stop this_. I can’t … I can’t deal with this anymore.” He closed his eyes as he saw her blonde little spotted face full of sorrow. She was in the _closet_ again and he sighed because he already knew it. This was when it was the worst and his own tears were not long to follow.

This is when she would let it all out. When she thought no one could see or hear her, when she thought she was _completely alone_ , she would lock herself inside the tiny space, just her, the darkness, and the whiskey, and she would _cry_. He’d hoped it would stop after the first month or even the second … but it was now nearing the end of the fourth month and the tears were just as vicious as the first day she woke.

“Please …” He begged thin air, “I can’t handle _this_ anymore. _I’m so very sorry. There was no other choice._ ”

[Originally posted by sherlockspeare](https://tmblr.co/ZShE3y2GxmcJr)

* * *

 

“No, no, no. You aren’t _shapeshifting_. I keep _saying_. You have no Qliphoth. But you are a spirit, so you just need to _let go_ of what you assume you are.” Ozryel threw up her hands with exaggerated frustration as she paced back and forth.

Quintus concentrated again, staring at his pale, overly veiny hand. “I do not think this is possible.” It had been hours and her beratement was getting on his nerves.

“It is possible. It just _take time_. It just takes considerable practice. You need to learn how to _will it_.” She promised as she turned her back to him and walked to the end of the cell, “But it’s ok. It takes people _years_ to learn to let go of that. _The older the person_ , the longer it takes too, so I wouldn’t be too wor–” As she turned around, she stopped herself in mid stride, “OH.”

At first, she noticed he had hair. Quite bit of it in fact and it was cut short and blonde in color. He even had the slightest hint of stubble across his face to boot. The high cheekbones were now gone, and his jaw was much narrower than it had been, no longer as square as it once was. His eyes were still blue, but slightly darker than before. His skin was no longer pale and his veins and stripes were gone. The tips of his ears were no longer pointed, his swirls and scars were entirely gone yet not _everything_ was completely different. His lips, his nose and the mole that graced his upper left lip were all still the exact same.

_Gif from[@5disilk](http://5disilk.tumblr.com/)_

There was a look of incredible concentration on his face and when Ozryel spoke, everything changed back to his normal dhampir appearance as he lost focus, “ _Yes!!! Good job, Quintus!_ ”

He breathed out heavily, trying to catch his breath after apparently having held it while he was accomplishing the impressive task and she giggled at that. He still had to learn that he no longer _needed_ to _breath_ either, it seemed.

“ _Very good!_ ” She clapped merrily, “Give it time and it will just become second nature to you.” He concentrated again but nothing occurred and she shrugged, “Do not worry. It will come with time. Nice face though. Very pleasant. What was your inspiration for it?” She wondered and he looked at her confused.

“Inspiration?” He asked in confusion. “What did it look like?”

“For _that_ face. Did you see him somewhere?”

“No. I just … I willed myself to be … _human_.” He said.

“Ah … so _that_ is who you should have always been. Quite nice. I like it.” She smiled approvingly as she realized it did resemble his face quite a bit and a soft voice interrupted them from the side.

Raphael smiled, “I do too. How long do you think you can keep it up?”

Quintus looked flustered at the question, “Apparently 5 seconds.”

“Good. Now try for _the entire day_.” Raphael chuckled as he waved his hand at the bar and the lightning sparked in his face while the bars vanished, “It’s time.”

Quintus breathed heavily as he stood.


	7. 1.5 - Justice

Raphael led him out of the building and the cool, fresh air of the outdoors hit him nicely. Quintus took a big deep breath of it, hoping to catch the scent of the _angelica_ that he had caught in the hallway days before, but he smelled _nothing._ He desperately wished to have his abilities back and a frown crept upon his face.  Raphael took note at once.

“What’s wrong?” The angel prodded.

“ _Nothing_.” Quintus shook his head as he sighed.

The angel walked him down to the street, bringing him before some kind of _carriage_. It was more modern than any he’d ever ridden before and it was pulled by what he could only assume was a _hydra_. The colourfully feathered serpent easily standing over twenty feet tall and all five of its heads peered at Quintus with inquisitive yet accusatory eyes. Raphael spoke something in their _special_ language and the beast responded with full sentences in turn.

While they spoke, Quintus admired the gold, silver, and bronze swirls interlaced throughout the steel compartment. As the tiny door opened, he squeezed himself in, facing forward as Raphael took the opposite seat, directly facing him.

“A hydra?” He asked and Raphael smiled widely, as he always did.

“[Arariel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arariel) is a _water seraph_. They are formally called _Chalkydri_ , but yes. You do know them colloquially as _hydras_.”

When the carriage began to move eventually, there was no amount of rocking or bumping involved. The movement was entirely surreal as they seemed to just glide forward. The lack of sensation was completely unnerving.

“Where are we going?” He questioned at once.

“To the Court. It’s not housed in the Citadel. It’s built on top of the River of Truth. _It is the place that allows no lies._ ” Raphael answered matter of factly.

“But, if there is no _where_ any longer, then why do we need to _travel_ to get there?” Quintus asked and Raphael laughed out loud, showing his full set of fangs for the second time.

“Good. You’re quite right.” He shook his head, “This trip is for … _your benefit_.”

Quintus shifted his attention momentarily from the window back to the angel, who was watching him quite intensely, “My benefit?”

“To show you that it might be in _your benefit_ to continue your existence here. It’s not a bad place to be, after all. Would you really give this up for _simple vengeance?_ ”

Turning back to the window as he spied what he assumed were _dragons_ dancing across the far horizon and he sighed, “ _I do wish to exist._ ”

“Good.” Raphael chimed before he leaned back, smiling again, “But I have asked that it take us _the long way_ regardless.”

Quintus watched and cataloged each thing and building they passed, however he doubted the need to do such a thing. Everything was abstract enough that he thought it might change and quite regularly.

But whatever he saw, his face remained devoid of emotion driving Raphael to comment on it. “I am learning that it must take quite a bit to impress you.”

“I’ve seen many things.” Quintus stated simply.

“But nothing like this.” Raphael assumed.

“I am no longer shocked by anything I might see here. This is simply how things are now.” Quintus huffed a shrug but he refused to tear his eyes from the spectacle occurring all around them.

“Your _hubris_ is _absolutely_ astounding.” Raphael mused. It wasn’t an insult nor was it conveyed with any hint of annoyance. Nothing he said _ever was_. It was simply an interesting fact to him and the laugh that followed was of pure entertainment.

“My _hubris_ has been well-earned.” He assured him with a sneer.

“Perhaps … perhaps _there_ it was. But _here_ , you should learn to let go of it. _You are far from the strongest any longer._ ” Raphael stated and Quintus looked back to him in slight discomfort.

“I am aware of that.”

“Good. Accept it. Let go of your need to control _everything_ around you. There is no longer a need to struggle, Quintus.” Raphael leaned forward and spoke softly. “Embrace change. It has to be freeing to … no longer worry about the entire world? To no longer need to worry about _Destiny_?”

He turned his attention back out of the window, “You say that as if it is an easy feat. You have no idea what _my life_ is … _was_ … like.”

“Actually, I’ve learned _many things_ about you over the last few weeks. Things that even _you_ aren’t aware.” Raphael leaned back and relaxed with smugness, “And honestly, I am surprised you are not _more affected_ by your life. **_Most men_** would have been crushed by what you’ve had to endure.”

Quintus was uneasy about what he might have learned. “I do not wear my emotions on my sleeve … as _you_ apparently do.”

“Perhaps you should consider it. I’ve always found it quite … _enlightening_.” That damn contagious smile again and if the golden sphinx hadn’t just walked by them stealing his immediate attention, he felt that he might have returned a small smile to the mocha-skinned angel.

With all of his pleasantries and grins, this laid-back being seemed _simple_ , but Quintus knew this was _far from the case_. His presence was gentle, genuine, and virtuous yet there lurked a power hiding within him that shook Quintus to his core as he observed Raphael again.

Though his mannerisms were slight and small, the conveyance was energetic and his smiles were shared with almost reckless abandon, even in his _most serious moments_. For the first time since he’d met the ancient being, Quintus felt his own disdain for Raphael finally starting to disperse. As clarity took hold in his mind, his felt his mistrust begin to fade and something happened that he had never experienced before. He felt himself _pulling_ emotion. His face fell as he ingested the feeling and found that it was _sadness_ which emanated so strongly from the ancient being.

His mouth opened to ask what might have been troubling the angel when he realized that _he should probably not_ disclose being able to feel this. This was coming from _In Nexu._ He uttered another question as Raphael had already noticed he was in the process of asking something.

“How long has it been on _Earth_ since I arrived?” He asked hoping Raphael knew this since Ozryel did not.

The angel grew quiet as he seemed to think about it for a moment, “A little over five months now.”

Quintus nodded with acceptance and appreciation. “ _Thank you._ ” It was much longer than _he felt_ he had been here, but it was _not years_ and for this he was grateful.

“You still worry for those you left?” Raphael inquired but Quintus ignored him as he diverted his attention back to the landscape and watched quietly as the urban setting became less dense and more rural the farther they traveled down the bumpless road.

He leaned forward to peer out the window and down the bridge that they had come across. The water beneath them was crystal clear and he could see _things_ swimming with in, just under the surface, but it was the little things that fluttered around its surface in a massive swarm that drew his ultimate attention. They were _dragonflies_ , hundreds of them, possibly even thousands and Quintus’ mouth fell agape slightly.

“ _Dragonflies_?” He gawked, trying to mask the surprise that leaked into his voice.

“Yes. _The Serpent’s Doctor._ ” Raphael was pleased to offer, “ _Divine messengers_. The carriers of the _dream_.” Raphael smiled, “And there is _no greater divinity than the **dream**._ ”

“Serpent’s _doctor?_ ” The term was strange to Quintus.

“Yes. There are _few creatures_ that are considered more _divine_ than either the serpent or their _doctor_.”

Quintus twitched at the thought of it before offering up something he thought was almost _common knowledge_ , “How is that so? Serpents are generally representative of _evil,_ are they not?”

Raphael shook his head, “As well as _fertility_ , life, _and_ healing. Christianity chose to villainize serpents because of Eden …” His words seemed to trail off, but he steered the conversation back on track immediately, “But if you consider other cultures, they are universally worshipped.” That smile again. “Look around. If you haven’t noticed yet … _We’re all serpents here, Quintus._ ”

Raphael’s face was suddenly much like Ozryel’s face had been in the _beginning_ as Quintus gazed upon a far more gaunt face, drawn and tight, with much higher cheekbones and much thinner lips as his face came to more of a central point now. It was entirely more like a serpent now and at once Quintus realized the angel was sharing _his own facial features._ But the spectacle was short lived as Raphael’s face was now back to entirely human and he beamed at Quintus as he blinked softly. _Damn shapeshifter._

After the display, he wasn’t sure what else to ask and for the first time since they had left the Citadel, Raphael turned his attention away from Quintus and out the window as he watched the massive swarm of flying bugs dance across the surface of the crystal clear lake, seeming to keep perfect pace with the carriage itself. The angel seemed to lose himself in thought before he spoke strangely, his voice almost distant, “ _The dragonfly is considered to be an agent of **change**._ ”

Taking note of the uncharacteristic behaviour, Quintus brazenly asked, “Does something trouble you?”

The speed at which Raphael candidly responded surprised Quintus incredibly, “I am worried about Michael. Ozryel’s return has affected him greatly. I have _never_ seen him in such a state before.” The angel’s face expressed his internal concern clearly as he looked down to his hands.

“He is not _always_ so … _disagreeable?_ ” Quintus asked, attempting to be somewhat _polite_ about the unlikeable governor.

Raphael found himself laughing at the statement as he shook his head, “No, no, no. He’s always _disagreeable_. Or at least he has been since … Ozryel was lost.”

“Hmmm. I get the impression that she was quite different back then than she is now.” He sighed as Raphael nodded.

“Yes.” Raphael spoke as he remembered fondly, “ _She_ was a _force of nature_. Body, mind, and spirit. Heaven lost something profound that day … Even _God_ wept.” Seriousness crept back over his face and Quintus jumped at the opportunity to breach the subject.

“She claims that _God_ is … absent?”

A sober expression befell the angel’s face as he closed his eyes momentarily before looking back out the window, offering no response. No words were needed as the answer to his question was _clear_.

Quintus followed suited and returned to watching the landscape as it passed them by. The flora and fauna seemed to frolick with no particular rhyme or reason and he almost found the vividness of the sky and the creatures that danced within it all too much as he looked back and saw the angel staring directly at him intently … _again_.

“Do you have cameras here?”

The question confused the angel and he furrowed his black brows, “I suppose so. Why do you ask?”

“You might take a picture instead. It will last longer.” Quintus quipped as he turned to eye the man who seemed to be unable to stop staring at the dhampir any chance he had. Raphael, still slightly grinning with amazement, was not embarrassed nor deterred by Quintus’ obviously annoyed remark.

“You misunderstand. I find you _fascinating_. This gives you discomfort?” His smile, always genuine and without any hint of malice, showed his amazingly white teeth fully again.

“ _On the contrary_ … I am quite used to people _gawking_. I just assumed that such an act would be _beneath_ someone like _you._ ” Quinlan sneered in response.

“Your words are defensive without proper cause. You are assuming that I look because I am disgusted.” Raphael never moved his eyes from Quintus’, “I _marvel_ because you are a _wonder_ , Quintus. _A unique being … destined for greatness._ ”

Quintus furrowed his brow at the words as those had been _Ancharia’s_ words for him exactly. Did Raphael _know this_? _Could he know this?_ Perhaps she had told him this in the last few weeks? A unique being … destined for _greatness_. “I am not _unique_. There were four before me.” He challenged.

 

Raphael frowned as he shook his head, “It’s unfortunate. _They no longer exist_.”

Quintus turned quickly to stare into the violet eyes, his brows furrowing in trouble, “No longer exist? They were …” His voice trailed off as he looked down to the floor, not wishing to finish that sentence. “By whom?”

“Michael. That is _his charge_. His duty.” Raphael said with a straight face.

“Why was I permitted to _exist_?” He asked, finally exposing some hint of mild emotion.

“ _That_ is a conversation you should have with Ozryel. Perhaps even _Michael_ if you wish to _risk it_. It’s not my place. Regardless … you are _nothing_ like _they were_.” As Quintus stared back into the man’s vibrant violet eyes, Raphael permitted him reprieve from his attention, as he looked out into the countryside, offering up one final intriguing thought before their ride came to a gentle stop, “You _really_ have no idea _do you_?”

As Quintus started to stand, Raphael waved him to remain seated and he peered out the window. What he had called a _barrier_ was in fact a mountain range that seems to encircle around them for as far as he could see. Before them was the widest and longest staircase that he had ever seen and it was littered with people and other beings. There seemed to be a bit of a crowd gathering around their carriage as well and Quintus sat back, out of view, as people began to try and peer into the window from outside.

Raphael waved a hand at him and Quintus furrowed his brow, “What?”

“Your appearance.”

“I …” He looked down at his hand and tried again, closing his eyes tightly as he concentrated but when he opened them, his hands were still the same as he shook his head, “I cannot.”

“You are trying. That is the problem.” He looked up to an amused violet-eyed face. “Don’t try to do it … just _will_ it.”

 _Will it._ The same words the angel’s older brother gave to him when he was coaxing him to defeat the _Master_. _**Will it.**  _ He tried, but his hands remained just as white and he huffed.

“Keep trying. We won’t go in until you have it.” Raphael said.

“Then we will be here _forever_.” Quintus spat and sat back in the seat with sullen defiance.

Raphael laughed, “ _So very dramatic_. Are you always this way?”

Quintus could _feel himself pouting_ and he sneered a lie to the angel, “No.” He was only _dramatic_ on certain occasions.

 

> _You were the light that is blinding me_
> 
> _You’re the anchor that I tie to my brain_
> 
> _‘Cause when it feels when I’m lost at sea_
> 
> _You’re the song that I sing again and again_
> 
> _All the time, all the time_
> 
> _I think of you all the time_

“Do you wish to exist, Quintus?” Raphael asked simply.

“Yes.” He frowned again.

“Why?” Raphael pressed.

“My reasons are my own.” He said lowly as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Why?”

“I’m not asking to know your reasons. Whatever they are, you don’t need to disclose them. it doesn’t matter to me. But use them to _encourage_ yourself. You wish to exist, think about why and know that unless you do this now, it’s unlikely that what I have planned will work.”

Quintus leaned forward as he raised a brow, “And what exactly do you have planned?”

“Nope.” Raphael shook his head as he smiled, “ _You decided to be **difficult**_ , so you’ll just have to remain in the dark like everyone else.”

Quintus closed his eyes tightly as he didn’t wish to remember _these things_ right now, especially not in front of the archangel who could _feel_ so very much. He’d push the memories out of his head as soon as they would try to surface. He feared that he would break down again if he revisited them now. Up until this point, he had been _terrified_ to even _think_ about … _his reason_.

Sighing deeply, he thought about this fully now. He thought about it _very clearly_ , picturing every single element in his mind. He thought about its spots and the lovely green of its eyes. He thought about its short stature and then about the mole on its lower right back. About the texture of _that mole_ after he had touched it softly that night on the couch when he had _no right to do so_. He could admit that even _back then_ , he knew he had already laid claim. No, it was even before then. He knew the moment that she saved him, she was his.

He thought about the feeling of its curves crushing against his chest. He thought about her aroma next, so earthy and musky and sweet. He thought about his _reason_ for _wanting_ to _exist_ and the flavour of her, _of every part of her that he had tasted_. And finally, the sound of her voice as she spoke his name.

He smiled as he realized he was _so full of shit_. _So absolutely and utterly full of shit._ There wasn’t a moment that went by where he wasn’t _thinking about this reason_. He was thinking of it _all the time_.

“ _Good_.” Raphael’s voice shook him from his trance and as his eyes opened, he looked down at his human skinned hand and found it was shaking with hot emotion. And for the first time since he’d met the angel, Raphael touched him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he gripped it firmly, “No separation is _permanent_ , Quintus. Whoever it is that makes _you ache so very much_ , rest assured that you _will be_ reunited here eventually.”

Raphael removed his hand promptly and Quintus shook his head, while he qualified the angel’s statement, “If … I am allowed to exist.”

“ _Have faith_. It will be a _good day_ for you. I promise it.” The angel smiled even wider as he raised his eyebrows playfully, “ _This trial was over before it even began._ ”

“Now who is the one full of _hubris_?” Quintus quipped causing the angel to chuckle at him with extreme amusement.

Raphael exited first without another word and as Quintus stepped down from the stairs, a gentle and warm breeze struck them as it carried more dragonflies on its currents. He smiled to himself as Raphael’s confidence seemed to be contagious and he felt like it might actually be a _good day_ today.

The crowd was now impressive and seemed to only be growing as they mounted the steps, making their way up the side of the steep mountain. People gawked, whispered, and pushed to get full view of the two as they walked.

“ _Mister Quinlan! Mister Quinlan!!!_ ” When he heard the voice, he did not recognize the tone of it but he turned to see who would call out to him using such a title. As he spun, he saw a shorter young man who waved for his attention from the crowd. While Quintus paused, Raphael kept his forward momentum as he approached a couple just ahead of them, striking up a conversation.

Quintus stared for a moment. The young woman was quite short, though a smidge taller than his _poet_ , with rich blonde hair and vivid blue eyes. While she wasn’t generically _beautiful_ , he found her extremely pleasant in every single way that was _possible_. Her smile was warm and kind.

The man who stood beside her was markedly _less warm and kind_ and at least an inch taller than himself. His face was gaunt and serious as he seemed to be staring directly at Quintus with an uncomfortable and judgemental glare. He knew this look as the man was sizing him up. His eyes were a colder blue than the woman’s whom he held a protective arm around and his hair was a lighter and duller blonde.

His stare was unnerving to Quintus and _very few people_ were even capable of having _that effect on him_ and as he gazed back, he was almost certain he had seen that face before, but he was having a hard time pinpointing it. It had _not_ been recent, whenever it had occurred and he urged himself to go forward and greet them _with_ Raphael, but something held him back. Some part of his subconscious was almost nauseated at the thought of approaching them.

Unable to hear what was being discussed, he turned his attention back to the man in the crowd who was _still_ calling out to him and Quintus squinted at him.

It took him more than a moment to realize he’d seen this face before and very recently, though it had been _much_ older. As he approached the man, he found himself questioning his assumption briefly, “Professor?” He stuttered.

Once he was within reach, Abraham reached out and grabbed his hand firmly as he smiled massively, “How are you?!?”

Quintus blinked in surprise, “You look a bit … _different_ , Professor.”

The _‘young’_ man nodded as he clasp a hand on the dhampir’s shoulder, giving him a friendly and relieved squeeze before he pulled him in for a full embrace. Quintus generally didn’t like this type of contact, but he found himself returning it fully, “As do you, Mr. Quinlan.” He chimed as he grinned, “ _As do you_.” And he chuckled, “And, it’s just Abraham now.”

“Indeed. Abraham. Indeed.” He stared with amazement at the man as the last time he’d seen these eyes, he had closed them on his severed head. _Today was a good day_ and Quintus bit back the desire to embrace the man again.

“You did it.” Abraham’s young face was on the verge of tears as he continued, “ ** _You_** did it.” Quintus was rarely at a loss for words and as he stared the ‘young’ Professor, as Abraham actually hugged him _yet again_ and he allowed and return it _yet again_.

“Yes.” He said plainly and Abraham looked at him perplexed at his lack of exuberance at completing his lifelong task.

“ _You did it._ ” He reiterated as Quintus finally took note of the lovely woman by the professor’s side, clinging to his arm quietly, and he found himself staring as he wondered about her.

Abraham turned sharply, “This is _Miriam_. **_My wife_**.” Abraham beamed as he introduced him to his _beloved_.

Quintus bowed to her slightly, "Mrs. Setrakian."

“I have heard _so very_ much about you, Mister Quinlan.” She said to him timidly but her attention shifted immediately to the angel that now stood beside them and she blushed furiously as she looked down to the ground.

“I am sorry to interrupt.” Raphael stated as he placed his hand on his chest and gave Miriam a small apologetic nod. “But, we need to be going. You’ll have eternity for reminiscing afterwards.” Raphael waved up the stairs as he met Quintus’ eyes, “Shall we?”

The top of the stairs opened to a remarkably _small_ amphitheatre. Besides its size, its layout reminded Quintus distinctly of the Colosseum. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being on display at the very center, but he walked closely with Raphael as they descended towards the middle.

All manner of creatures bustled around, carrying on loud conversations with each other, yet a noticeable silence fell over them as the two would brush by. For the most part, the audience was _not human_ , though he spied a few scattered throughout the celestial beings, particularly a dark-skinned and dark-haired woman that he’d met once before in that somewhat _embarrassing_ dream.

His eyes locked onto hers for a brief and fleeting moment and she looked away immediately, unable to conceal her nervousness at his attention. Quintus read the intent easily. She did not wish to give the impression she knew him. _This was a secret, as he was getting the impression everything having to do with his Poet was._ **_So be it. _** He looked away, smoothly and naturally, not sharing even a lingering stare as their acquaintanceship went entirely unnoticed.

The bearded man who stood before them now was nothing short of a _mountain._ Quintus had to cock his head _up_ to look into his face as this _man_ was easily at least an inch taller than even Mr. Fet himself. He recognized him instantly. This was the _creature_ that had … _retrieved_ him when he had first arrived in Heaven. He distinctly remembered the punch and Quintus flared his nostrils at him.

His build was incredibly muscular and wide. His hair was long and brown, and his eyes were an _unnatural_ amber. There was a conspicuous scar across his left eyebrow and for a moment Quintus doubted who he was assuming it to be. Did angels scar? Did _archangels_ scar?

“ _Brother_.” Raphael nodded as he smiled, providing the mountain with a single word greeting and now Quintus was absolutely sure.

 _This was Gabriel_.

**_“.רעהטאָרב עלטטיל, נוואָד קקאַב אָט עטאַל אָאָט טאָן ס'טי”_ **

Gabriel spoke to his brother in their _secret_ language and Quintus found himself glaring at the giant. He had no idea what had been said, but given the mannerisms and tone, it had been _unpleasant._

“But I thought you _enjoyed_ a good challenge?” Raphael smirked a response, to which Gabriel shook his head, turning his attention _directly_ to Quintus.

“Hiding your _true nature_ won’t save you from Justice, Abomination.” He spat as he turned his back and walked to his side of the court floor, taking a seat on a stone bench.

Raphael waved Quintus to a bench directly opposite of Gabriel’s and they both sat as the dhampir leaned over to ask in a whisper, “How does he have a _scar_?” He pressed. He was mostly curious if something _could_ hurt an archangel and Raphael sighed heavily shaking his head.

“It’s because he’s a child and he does it to _mock_ Michael.”

“ _Mock Michael?_ ”

There might have been more conversation on the matter as Quintus wasn’t fully grasping what he meant, but as Michael entered, the chaos of the area seemed to melt away. People began to take their seats all around. He wondered … _to mock him?_ Was _Michael_ scarred? He was not even sure _Michael_ had a face behind that helmet. He was partially convinced the armor was _all he was_.

The silver clad angel sat down loudly and Quintus’ mouth fell agape instantaneously. He’d seen the angel before, but now Michael carried with him an ornate metal staff. It was intricately carved with spirals, leaves, and various other geometric shapes; inlaid with gold, silver, bronze and copper. Its top housed four stones, all of varying colors, in a circle, each pointing outward, perpendicular to the handle itself.

It was, for all intents and purposes, an exact replica of _her Sun Stick._ A sea of goosebumps ran across his skin as he realized that particular thought was _backwards_. No, _her staff_ was a replica of _this one_. It was in this glorious moment of clarity that the aroma of _angelica_ hit Quintus fully. He tensed and Raphael noticed immediately.

“Is everything alright?” The violet-eyed angel began to ask before Michael spoke.

“The defendant is aware of the charges?” His voice was firm and loud.

Raphael stood, “Yes.”

“And how does the defendant plead?”

“Innocent.”

“ _So be it then._ ” Michael bellowed, “ _Let it begin._ ”


	8. 1.6 - Justice

A particularly potent rush of emotion coursed through his body as the trial began and the fact that he had actually just _seen_ Abraham finally sunk in. He found himself turning around and surveying the seats of the small amphitheatre around him, looking in all directions for _anyone_ that he _had known_. His heart beat furiously as the names skipped through in his mind: _Ancharia, Sertorius, Livianna, Decimus, Bruk, Vaun, William_ … and, of course, _Tasa_ and _Sura_. The last names hung guiltily there and Raphael felt his unease immediately, as he always seemed to. The angel turned to see what he was surveying before he shook his head.

“You will see no one here. It is a _closed session_. Even your friend had to wait outside.” Quintus breathed almost a sigh of relief. Given the mounting stress of this situation, he likely didn’t need to deal with the nervousness of knowing _his lost love ones_ were behind him somewhere, staring down at him as he was being _judged_. Turning back to face the front, he once again spied the stern blonde man, who was _still_ staring at him with a spectacular disdain.

“That man dislikes me.” He whispered to Raphael and the angel followed his eye line.

“Ah. I think that is just his face perhaps. However, _that man_ dislikes most. He has earned that right though.” The angel chuckled, surveying Quintus’ face carefully as the two blonde men continued to glare at one another. “I would not take it personally. I think he _barely_ even tolerates me.”

“Who is he?” Quintus pressed and Raphael shook his head.

“One of our witnesses.” The answer was far too simple and Quintus squinted at him, using no words but clearly asking for more information.

“For us? But I do not know that man.” Although, he knew that was untrue somehow. He’d _seen_ his visage _somewhere_ before. He had a suspicion it was from Rome, but the courts bustling came to an immediate stop as the opposing angel counsel finally began to make his case.

Gabriel stood to present his _argument_. For the most part, Quintus was confused about _what_ the angel was trying to _prove_ exactly. He came to realize after the first _witness_ that it seemed to be a case based entirely on defamation of Quintus’ character alone.

It was some man that claimed Quintus had killed him _and his wife_. Squinting, he tried to remember the individual but nothing jumped out at him so he doubted he also killed the man’s wife. Perhaps she had been screaming at an inconvenient moment?

 _Hmmm_. That’s unfortunate.

The man was younger, but it was impossible to determine age here as everyone seemed to be whatever age they wished. His clothing was _very modern_ even though he mentioned living on a rural farm and having been pulled from his buggy and carriage on the forest road. _Hmmm_. Whenever it had been, Quintus couldn’t recall. If he had at least known the year, perhaps it could have jogged his recollection. _Wasn’t his memory better than this_? He’d always assumed so, but he also knew that he had killed quite a few people over the years and apparently this man and his family’s death had little lasting effect on him. A sickened feeling boiled deep in the pit of his stomach and he wondered what the _rest of the trial_ was going to be like.

 _Damnation_.

Raphael passed on asking _any questions_ and Quintus gave him a perturbed looked, “I do not even remember that man, could you not at least ask–”

The angel uncharacteristically interrupted him, “I wouldn’t know what to ask him, would I, Quintus?” Wait … Was that … _snark_? This angel was normally so very _nice_. Was it … _annoyance?_ Yes. He was sure the angel was being quite snippy with him and he sat back fully on his side of the open bench and waited for the next witness to be called.

The second man Quintus remembered fully. He had tried to rob him at knifepoint in London in the 1880s. He’d greedily drained him quickly _and painlessly_ before tossing him into the river. For all intents and purposes, he felt he’d shown the man quite a bit of mercy considering …

Leaning to Raphael, Quintus attempted to justify his actions, “That man is a thief. He attempted to rob me.” Raphael stared back at him with an entirely emotionless face, not even sharing one of his customary smiles and Quintus leaned back again. “What?” He asked, wondering what he might have done to offend the angel as such.

“ _Huh_. Really? You don’t say?” More snark. Quite a bit of it in fact.

Michael asked Raphael, “Cross examine?” Raphael waved a hand in the negative and Quintus looked at him with an open mouth.

“Could you not point out that that man is a thief?!” He asked.

“You know, if I had been _prepared_ to cross-examine them _ALL_ , then I might. But I wouldn’t even know what to ask now would I?” Quintus understood at once. He was being snippy because Quintus had refused to let him dig around in his mind.

“I can tell you what to ask.” He sneered and Raphael shook his head.

“After every single one? I’d rather not have to converse with you in between _each witness_.” Raphael shook his head as the next person mounted the witness stand.

“Wait, how many will there be?” The dhampir pressed and Raphael looked down at a piece of paper that was suddenly in his hands.

“Four hundred and eighty-two.”

“Four hundred? … ” Quintus blinked and turned back to recognize the new person in the stand again. Yes, he had killed that man as well. He remembered this _gladiator_ quite well, he had been a good fighter. He would have spared him, but the crowd demanded otherwise.

“ _And_ eighty-two.” Raphael qualified his statement.

“We will be here for hours.” Quintus stated as he rubbed the back of his neck, the motion laced with concern. At least the _evil_ people he had slain would not be here because their quantity easily outnumbered the _innocents_ by more than ten fold. However, testimony of the _detestable_ people he had slain might actually have been a _good thing_ at this point.

Showing no worries, Raphael shrugged, “It’s more likely _days_.”

“And whom will you call?” Quintus asked. When the angel had asked him for character witnesses, he had given a total of five names and suddenly he felt very unsure of himself as well as uncertain of the verdict. “Will you call–” Michael’s voice boomed in the hall

“ _Is this boring for you, Mr. Sertorius?_ ” Looking up, he noticed as every face was staring directly at him. They had been talking quietly, hadn’t they?

Quintus stuttered, “Uhh … no. My apologies.” He placed his hand on his chest and bowed respectfully to the judge as the trial continued. 

The giant angel paraded person after person _after person_ , leading them each up to the seat that Raphael claimed “no one could _lie_ when seated upon”. A hard to believe concept he supposed, but given where he was, he was starting to let go of what he had _assumed_ was possible. Quintus always _knew_ he was not a good person. He had never proclaimed to be, but hearing about his monstrousness directly from the mouths of so many made him squirm in his seat and Gabriel was _loving_ it. After several hours, Raphael requested a break.

“Is _the bastard_ having a hard time stomaching _his past_?” Gabriel scoffed and Raphael became animated for the first time since the trial started.

“You should be careful of your _accusatory_ statements, Brother. I would think _unfounded slander_ is beneath you.”

Gabriel furrowed his brows at his little brother, shaking his head, “Unfounded slander?! What _unfounded slander?!_ ”

“Enough Gabriel.” Michael sided with Raphael and the giant man threw a frustrated hand up in the air. “We _all_ need a break. I know I do.”

Quintus was happy to be able to speak again and he repeated his previous question, “How many witnesses will you call?”

“Three.” Raphael stated as he placed his papers back into a spontaneous folder, which seemed to disappear from view and Quintus blinked.

“Three?” He asked and the angel nodded once. “Three? But I gave you _five_ names. Did _all five_ not agree–”

“Well … Technically I’m calling _two_. But there will be a third in the end. I am not using _any_ of your five.” Raphael stated plainly and Quintus found himself unable to form words as he shifted forward, staring blankly at the empty judge’s seat. Minutes of silence rolled by before he prodded again.

“Why does he question _my character?_ I thought this was to determine if I am an … _abomination_?”

“Yes. My brother _thinks_ he is being clever. He thinks he is covering all of his bases.” Raphael shrugged, “I wouldn’t worry.”

“Wouldn’t worry?” Quintus choked. “But … Why does my _character_ matter? And what … _bases_?”

“He thinks he has to do _very little_ to establish who your father is. But, in the off chance that I throw him a curveball and you are found innocent of being an _abomination_ , then there might be justification to challenge your placement _here_.”

“Here?” He asked, “As opposed to where else?”

Quintus’ eyes grew wide as Raphael looked down to the floor with a sinister smile and a head tilt, “I said don’t worry. I think it’ll be fine.”

“How can that be? If I am _innocent_ then I may still _be guilty_ …”

Raphael grinned, “We’re _all_ guilty of something, aren’t we?”

 _Damnation_.

“How did he find so many?” Quintus looked at the giant man across the way as he pondered out loud.

“There was an announcement. A call for anyone who might stand against your presence here.” Raphael shrugged. “These people came forth of their own free will.”

Quintus sighed massively and Raphael shrugged. “It _could_ have been far more, if he had done any amount of leg work at all. Gabriel is quite lazy. _Many here_ don’t follow _Heavenly_ politics and do not even pay attention to the announcements.”

 _Damnation_ …

Quintus shook his head … _that word_ seemed very fitting at this point in time.

 

* * *

 

The most damning of all of testimony came next. This man claimed to have been a fruit shop owner at the time of his death and that he had seen Quintus, specifically, setting fire to Rome in the summer of 64, July 18th to be specific. That was Tasa’s birthday. This date held significant value and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench as he looked down, his posture filling with shame. He didn’t need to look back up to realize the his angel companion was staring at him.

Vast amounts of patience was something that Quintus prided himself on, but he was learning quickly that this angel trumped him quite impressively in this respect. Eventually, he forced himself to look up into the stern face as Raphael shook his head back and forth gently.

“[The Great Fire of Rome.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Fire_of_Rome)” Raphael stared. It should have been a question, but it was a just a statement. Quintus brushed the tip of his nose with his hand as he felt a further wave of shame encompass him. “ _That was you?_ ” Quintus offered _no response_ at all and Raphael looked back forward. “No wonder you didn’t want to share your mind with me. Is there anything else I should be … _aware of_?”

“It … “ Quintus stuttered. “ _It was a very bad day._ ”

“You could have warned me.” Raphael was straightforward in his dissatisfaction.

“Would it have made a difference?” Quintus shrugged, still keeping his eyes focused on the ground.

“We shall see. It might affect my first witness … _quite a bit in fact_.” Raphael stated so very plainly. 

Gabriel then began to describe the massive damage with an impressive amount of dramatic flare as he danced around the court with animated hands. He reiterated the deaths caused by the fire itself as well as the repercussions felt afterwards. _Many Christians had been unfairly crucified in blame for it_. The angel hoped the court would understand that he would not be _calling everyone_ who was affected by it, though he could have brought many _thousands_ to _give testimony_.

 _Thousands …_ Quintus wondered what the casualty count actually was as he closed his eyes tightly. That had been one of the worst days of his life, as Quintus remembered and the happenings of it bounded across his mind suddenly. It had been Tasa’s birthday, the day he had taken her and Sura’s heads. The day that he forced to slay Tacitus while he was under the Master’s control and in a fit of rage, burning Rome to the ground in a desperate act to destroy the hidden _Ancient_.

However, the recollection of that day saddened him, he knew it had _also_ been the day he was visited by the _Goddess_ and _the dragonfly_. This day had been _the day_ which had set everything in motion, driving Quintus to spare _his Poet’s_ life and he breathed out deeply, rubbing the inside of his wrist gently, right where she would have, had she been here in his nervous place.

But of this act of arson … This _fit of rage_ , in particular, he was exceedingly ashamed of for _Rome_. Rome, _with[a million inhabitants. Most of which were innocents, but none of which were named Tasa.](https://www.darkhorse.com/Comics/29-665/The-Strain-Mister-Quinlan--Vampire-Hunter-5#prettyPhoto)_

“ _I’m sorry._ ” Raphael apologized simply as Quintus finally looked up to see that his disappointment had melted away. He could _feel_ Quintus’ shame and his smile was genuine. “I’ve had enough of this, and I think you have as well.”

Raphael stood for the first time since the entire spectacle had started and he interrupted his brother with a soft but firm tone.

**_“This is not necessary.”_ **

“I beg to differ.” Gabriel began to argue.

“We will accept _all testimony_ that you have planned as fact. There is no need to _parade_ them in front of the court.” Raphael offered.

“You’ll just _accept_ their testimonies without letting the _Truth_ of their statements be verified?” Michael asked curiously and Raphael nodded. Quintus assumed that the _verifying_ was having them sit on that damn seat.

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Michael tapped the staff as it lit with the same blue energy that occasionally ran through his companion’s face and a thunderous noise was heard as all the feet in the room seemed to stomp in chaotic yet harmonious unison. The most satisfying thing to spring from announcement was the strange look that befell Gabriel’s face. He was _mildly_ confused and pleasantly _concerned_.

Squinting at his mocha-skinned brother with deep though as the revelation of the futility of the last several hours washed over him quickly. Raphael smiled eagerly and the big man took a seat, eyeing Quintus.

“Any further witnesses who will give different testimony?” Michael asked and Gabriel shook his head.

“I need no further witnesses to state the obvious. He was born of Ozryel therefore he is …

**_”.נעדדיבראָף צאָם עהט .דעראַעף עהט צו האַ .הקראַמקסאָה"_ **

Quintus picked up a single word from that … **_Hoxmarch_**. This meant _Feared._

**_“פּעריאַזאָדאַ קאַסאַרמאַ אַרפּ אַדאַגיטאַ גע”_ **

Raphael retorted back, interrupting quickly as the two men began a less than formal conversation back and forth and Quintus desperately wished to know exactly what was being said.

“Enough!” Michael spat. “Speak in a language the boy understands, or do not speak at all.”

Raphael compiled, shifting to English. “You cannot argue that he is _The Feared_ by stating that _he is the Feared_. He is _Unconquerable_.”

“ _The Unconquerable **are** The Feared!_ They are simply a subset of it!” Gabriel ridiculed Raphael’s defensive. “But it _doesn’t_ matter! They are both nephilim. He is nephal! The _worst kind._ He is _The Most Forbidden. **Begotten of the Oldest**._ ”

“Begotten is a _strong_ word, brother. Perhaps you should consider your words more particularly.” Raphael smiled quietly as he passive aggressively warned.

“He was fathered by one of **_the worst of us_**. One of _our most shameful brothers_.” Gabriel spat and Raphael stood quickly.

“I repeat. Choose your words carefully, Gabriel.” Raphael was calm but firm, “You speak of _shame_. It that of Ozryel or _do you speak of yourself?_ ”

Gabriel whipped his head around to confront with full aggression, “I have _nothing_ to be shameful for!”

“Enough!” Michael diffused, hitting the staff on the ground. “We _all_ have shame. Get to your point, Gabriel.”

The giant man expressed more shock than anger at his little brother’s words and he sighed, “We are _all_ simply just reflections of those who made us. We are made from their pieces. Do you deny this?” Raphael shook his head and Gabriel continued, “We are _our father’s children_. We are all created in _his_ image. Do you deny this?”

Raphael shook his head again as he retook his seat, “On the contrary, I fully agree with it.”

“And this thing.” Gabriel pointed accusingly, “Was created from one of the most _vile and detestable_ things to have _ever existed_. We have heard testimony of his actions and his deeds. He doesn’t belong here.” He seemed pleased with his statement and sat back down on the bench.

Leaning over as he whispered to Quintus, Raphael grinned widely. “That went very well.”

 _That went well!?_ Quintus gave the most perplexed look he could muster to the optimistic angel. _What?!_

“You’re up.” Michael said simply as he hammered his staff down again and the room interrupted with more stomps.

“Thank you.” Raphael turned to see the audience as he smiled, “As my first witness, I call … **_[Sempronius Densus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sempronius_Densus)_**.”

Quintus’ head spun around with amazing speed. _Did he just say Sempronius Densus?_ _Sempronius Densus?!?_ The man, with the unpleasant glare stood and began to walk down the corridor. Confusion fell across Quintus as the people in the amphitheatre burst into a flurry of hushed murmurs. He heard a number of people gasp at the name, repeating it under their breaths … Quintus was only able to make out a distinct few of the hundreds of whispered mutterings.

**_“Sempronius? But why would he call Densus?”_ **

**_“Densus? He has called Densus.”_ **

**_“That is Sempronius. I have met him once.”_ **

**_“It is Densus.”_ **

**_“That man is a legend.”_ **

And finally, Quintus _remembered_ that face now. He’d _never_ actually seen it. No, not in the flesh, not in _person_ at least. He had seen the statues that were built to _honour_ him. This legend was nothing short of a _myth_ and he doubted any part of his story had been an _exaggeration_. From what he had heard from several _first person recounts_ of the day that Densus stood against 50 centurions _alone,_ it was clear this man had transcended the need for any and all _exaggeration_.

There was an unsurprising amount of confidence in his walk and Quintus found his posture perfect. It was obvious this man had been a soldier. As he took his seat, his seriousness was absolutely profound. Staring directly at Quintus, his stern gaze never wavered. It hadn’t been since he’d met Spiculus, the great gladiator, when he was fifteen years old that he had felt such admiration towards another man. Flushed from the feeling of it, Quintus looked away from his gaze. This did not happen often.

Quintus was immediately curious from it all. He did not know this man, and had no idea why the angel would have brought _him_ to speak on _his behalf._

The testimony had begun.

Raphael began, “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” Densus nodded.

“Can you tell everyone why I’ve requested you to speak today?” Raphael smiled.

Densus finally looked away from Quintus, meeting the questioning angel’s eyes “As a scholar focused on Rome of _his_ day, you asked me here to give witness to the character of _General_ Quintus Sertorius.”

Raphael pressed. “Yes. And at first you declined, did you not?”

Densus nodded. “I did not know him. I did not fully understand why you were so certain my opinion of him would matter.”

Raphael assured. “But, your opinion holds _more weight_ here, among us, than anyone else of that time. _You are a legend._ ”

Densus accepted the statement showing little emotion. “So some have said.” His modesty was commendable.

Raphael smiled. “So says **_everyone_**. You are a great man, are you not, Sempronius?”

Densus shifted uncomfortably with the praise. “That has been said. Yes.”

Raphael pushed, “And yet you do not feel pride for your accomplishments?”

Densus shrugged, “I should not be lauded over for doing what is _necessary and right_. Doing what is moral should not be rewarded _as a special deed_. It _should_ be what is _expected_.”

The auditorium bustled with whispers and Gabriel took the opportunity to snipe a loud comment towards Michael, “ _Everyone_ here knows _and respects_ Densus. There is no need for this _dog and pony show_.”

Michael sided with the bearded angel, “I agree. Let’s move along.”

“Very well.” Raphael smiled marvelously as he threw raised eyebrows towards Quintus, leaving the dhampir confused. _Had that entire interaction been intentional?_ It seemed quite pointless. “So, I have asked you to speak on the character of Quintus Sertorius … Can you do so now?”

Densus answered. “I will try. But I must be honest. I am quite torn on this subject now.”

Raphael prodded. “Why is that?”

“I have heard things over the last hours that have caused me to doubt my reserve in accomplishing your request.”

Raphael nodded, seeming to already expect this response. “Would it be possible to ask you to disregard what you have heard and continue on with your previously planned testimony?” 

Densus stared at Quintus, “I will attempt my best. But I would like the court to know …” His eyes were piercing, “My sister and her five year old son burned to death in the Great Fire of Rome.”

Quintus held his breath. _Damnation_.

The rest of the testimony was entirely uninteresting as Quintus already knew everything about himself. Overall, Densus kept his emotions entirely in check and at points, even sounded _slightly_ impressed with him. He had called him a “One of the Best Sons of Rome” for all of his military victories and his perceived capacity for mercy.

Densus finished with a quote from Plutarch, “[He was considered more faithful to his friends than Antigonus, more merciful towards his enemies than Hannibal, and inferior to none of them in understanding.](http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/e/roman/texts/plutarch/lives/sertorius*.html)”

As Densus left the stand, Raphael was happy with the statements as he sat back down and leaned over to whisper into the dhampir’s ear, “That went very well.”

Quintus gawked, “I … murdered his sister _and_ his nephew.”

“That is more unfortunate than you realize.” Raphael pursed his lips together and suddenly Quintus doubted the angel’s intelligence entirely. Perhaps he was not as smart as he had assumed. Perhaps Raphael was a simpleton?! 

Gif by [@5disilk](http://5disilk.tumblr.com)

_Oh gods._ A wave of nausea overwhelmed him and his mouth only fell more agape as Raphael called his next witness.

“I call _The First of the First. The **Original** Right Hand of God. The Oldest. Ozryel_.”

 _Oh gods_. Quintus put his head in his hand as he shook it. _He really was damned._

* * *

It took quite some time for them to bring her forth. There was _more whispering_ than there had been even when Densus was called, and rather than an air of _excitement_ , there was a discernable feeling of unease that encompassed the room.

Gabriel, of course, tried to argue against it but Michael overrode his complaint. Now they all waited in patience. Quintus only asked one thing to his counsel in the silence. “Is it really a safe thing to remove her from _the cell_?”

Raphael was calm, blowing off his concern, “Ozryel will be _fine_.”

Seconds turned into minutes and he was sure an hour or more had passed when the murmurs overcame the audience again and he turned to see her standing at the top of the steps. She looked exactly as he had left her, female in appearance, but now she was shackled.

Not only were her hands and feet bound, but chains were draped over and wrapped around her _entire body_. Each link carved delicately with the same Enochian sigils that graced their cells. He was getting used to seeing these markings everywhere. Each swirl and geometric shape burned a bright blue, with the same vibrancy and color as Raphael’s sparks.

Though she was clearly uncomfortable within her confines as she shuffled along barely able to take half a step at a time, _her face was full of absolute joy_. The smile was the widest he’d seen from her to date and as she came down each of the steps, she stopped and greeted nearly everyone she could before the two human-looking guards who had accompanied her would nudge her along past the next step.

“ **Sariel! You look marvelous! You are finally getting rid of your gut!”** She chortled to a _very portly_ , feathered man near the back.

 **“Hadraniel! It’s been ages, we do need to catch up!”** She chimed to an overly beautiful woman who had the eyes of a hawk.

 **“Zadkiel! You have changed your hair! How is your brother?!”** She spun around, seemingly weightless under the metal that held her down as she spied _said brother_ on the other aisle, **“Tabbris!!! You need to come and see me, we have much to discuss!”**

Name after name _after name_ and Quintus cataloged them all, along with their faces. They were all nervous, unsure how to react to her and none offered any words in response. As she came down, she paused briefly, nodding to a slender Asian man with entirely black eyes, **“Uriel.** ”

“Ozryel. Please. Have a seat.” Michael shook his head and she smiled marvelously at him, fully embracing the act of her defiance.

“Dear Brother!” She bellowed. “I have not seen the _family_ in over _eight thousand years_. I may never have another chance! Surely great Governor, you can afford me some leniency in this _most special of occasions_.”

Quintus caught Raphael half smile out of the corner of his eye as the room burst in a muffled giggles.

As she passed the two benches, rather than pay any bit of attention to Quintus or his counsel, she turned to Gabriel fully, who was staring at the ground in a perpetual slouch. Even as she paused and stared, he refused to bade her attention and she said his name calmly before she continued her trek to the stand. “ **Gabriel.** Do not worry, _Strong One_. I have missed you as well.”

Finally, she sat and Raphael stood. “Thank you for offering your testimony.”

Ozryel exchanged a smug smile with Raphael as she nodded, “Any time, _Violet One_. It is not like I was _busy_ , was I?” She eyed Michael and Quintus heard another quiet chuckle erupt through the crowd behind him. The uneasiness was lifting from the entire room.

Gabriel, his shoulders still hunched yet his eyes never looking upon Ozryel’s, took the moment to spit an argument directly to the Governor, “ _He is mad. His testimony is worthless!_ ”

“Mad?! I am quite better than I was!” Ozryel laughed out loud and Raphael immediately countered in harmonious unison.

“She is _not mad_. But regardless of her mind, sanity is _not_ the requirement here. Only Truth.”

“She only hopes to save _herself_ by saving her _bastard._ ” Gabriel spat.

“I wish that you would refrain from _unfounded insults_ , Gabriel. It makes you seem so petty.” Raphael recommended and Quintus turned his head to the side. This was the _second_ time Raphael had called _that_ particular insult … _unfounded_. Uncertainty flooded the dhampir as he shifted in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

“Continue.” Michael said as he knocked the staff against the ground. “No more interruptions. I wish to have Ozyrel back in the cell as quickly as possible.”

“Do you know why I have asked you here?” Raphael questioned.

“Of course I do.” Ozryel answered.

“Can you elaborate?” Raphael pressed.

“You wish to ask about _my child_ , Quintus Sertorius.” She hummed.

“You child? You claim him as _yours_ then?”

“I have always done so … Yes.”

“But is he _your child_?”

“It depends on which definition of that term you wish to make use of.”

“How so?”

“He is younger than me, therefore, in comparison, _he is a child_. Sometimes I find him an _immature person_ and in that respect also, _he is a child_.” She smiled as she spied Quintus’ glare. “But, he is _not_ my descendant, if that is your ask. Quintus Sertorius is _not_ my son.”

“He was not _begotten_ of you?” Raphael repeated Gabriel’s earlier word as he pushed and Ozryel shook her head.

“He was not.”

“Lies!” Gabriel stood and locked eyes with Ozryel finally. “Everyone knows he was!”

“I cannot lie, my brother. Look where I sit!” She chuckled loudly as she hit the stone chair beneath her.

“This is your plan?!” The giant angel turned around to Raphael, “ ** _To argue semantics?!_** This is ridiculous!” The last sentence was lobbed towards Michael.

“I said ENOUGH! No interruptions! You had your _hours_ … we can allow them to have their _minutes_.” Michael halted the outburst as the questioning resumed.

“When was Quintus created?” Raphael asked next.

“Created? In what sense?” Ozryel asked for qualification.

“In what senses are there? Please elaborate?” Raphael pressed gently. It was obvious this conversation was a choreographed dance. Each already knew exactly what the other wished to hear.

“It depends on if you are referring to his _creation_ or his _exaltation._ ”

“Can you explain the difference of each?” Raphael requested.

“Well … He was _created_ when he was conceived. His soul was bound to his Qliphoth long before me. But he was _exalted_ when I took his human mother while he was still in her womb.”

Raphael spun and waved a hand at Quintus, “So, you _tainted_ him _after_ he was already conceived?”

“Indeed.”

“So there was _no actual fornication_ involved?” Raphael pressed and Michael pointed a finger to Gabriel as he shifted to make a retort, hushing the angel entirely.

“Nope. No penetration. Not even _the tip_.” Quintus placed his head in his heads as the crowd burst into giggles behind him again. _Oh gods_. “None whatsoever, brother.”

Raphael shook off the statement and held his own grin at bay as he continued, “And, to the very best of _your knowledge_ , _Oldest One of All._ How would you define the word _Nephilim?_ ”

“This is semantics!” Gabriel cried as he stood.

“We can have the rest of this testimony without you present.” Michael warned the angry angel and Gabriel chuckled madly at the threat.

“Michael, if you know _anyone_ who might be able to _remove me_ , then I’ll happily leave.”

“Children!” Ozryel barked, “ _Please_. We are having a conversation here.” She waved a finger between herself and Raphael as she continued. “For as long as I can remember … and I remember _everything,_ having been born _before all others_. Nephal are the offspring of a child of divinity and a child of Man. Regardless of how he _became_ exalted, I am _not_ his father.”

“You have called yourself his father before.”

“Wishful thinking. I _adopted_ him, as sorts. But, I cannot be _Quintus’_ real father.”

“Why is that?” Raphael asked.

“ _Because he already has one_ and one cannot be _born_ from _two_ fathers, not in the **_strictest_** sense of that word.” Ozryel stated simply.

“And do you know who that might be?” Raphael pressed.

“I haven’t the foggiest, sorry.” Ozryel shook his head. “I _only_ ever met his mother and that was just the once.” She smiled meekly as she blinked softly to Quintus. “I tried to take her body in the fall of 39. It was only after she was corrupted with the plague that I heard that tiny little heartbeat deep within her.”

“And would you recognize her if you saw her again?” Raphael asked.

“Yes. In fact, I already do.” Ozryel stated.

“You do?” Raphael smiled, playing the innocent fool. “You do what?”

“I already _do_ recognize her, _Travelling One_.” Ozryel returned the grin and Quintus took a breath as he held it suddenly.

 _Oh gods … What was the fallen angel implying?_ He swore everything around him slowed down as his heart leapt into his throat. A stark nervous panic overwhelmed him as he watched Ozryel’s eyes lock onto someone in the crowd. Furious whispers broke out behind him.

“You already see her … _today_?” Raphael questioned, feigning surprise and confusion as he turned to face the audience fully.

“Indeed.” Ozryel stared and Quintus found himself entirely frozen now. He fought every fiber of his being that urged him to turn around, to follow the archangel’s sight path, to spin and _spy_ who she was about to identify as … _his … mother?_

“Would you point her out for us?” Raphael stared at Quintus now.

As the finger raised and Ozryel pointed, Quintus shut his eyes as tightly as possible. He would not look. He did not think he _could_ look. His heart raced. What did this even mean? What was the point of all of this? The ocean of observers were no longer whispering, there were full and entire conversations occurring and he blocked out all of their words.

“Let it be known for the record that Ozryel has identified _Honoria Helenus_ as the human mother of the dhampir, _Quintus Sertorius_.”

Quintus repeated the name in his mind. _Honoria_ , meaning honor. _Helenus_ , meaning a shining torch. It was a lovely name and he repeated it again and again. He thought he might throw up and at once he questioned the feeling as he opened his eyes finally. Can _spirits_ even get sick?

He could already discern that _this_ was Raphael’s third planned witness. Commanding himself to breath deeply, he willed himself to finally turn, following all the staring eyes to the woman whom he had seen on the steps earlier with the angel. The pleasant, tiny blonde woman with the incredibly warm smile and Quintus found her staring directly at _him_ , her brows furrowed as she shook her head to something Densus whispered in her ear. She shook it furiously hard and Quintus turned back around.

_Oh gods._

“Thank you Ozryel. That is all.” Raphael released her from testimony and as she began to stand until she stopped suddenly.

“Actually … _one more tiny thing_.” Taking full advantage of her current location, she sat down again on the seat of truth, looking Gabriel squarely in the face. _“I have **never** and **will never** blame **you** for what occurred, Little Brother.”_

 

* * *

She had not been on his witness list, but this had been the plan all along. Raphael was worried if he had showed his hand so easily, Gabriel would have talked her out of coming entirely. Whether through intimidation or not, his brother was quite convincing when he needed to be. With the extenuating circumstances of Ozryel’s testimony, Michael allowed the dynamic addition of a new witness.

Delaying at first, Densus prodded her to go and she walked softly to the seat and timidly sat upon the stone, her curled hair bouncing delicately as she looked around to the all the eyes that gazed upon her.

“Hello.” Raphael offered a friendly greeting and she nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to come up. I am _sorry_ for the unexpected nature of it all.” 

“It is alright.” Densus had had no discernable accent however she did it. It was slight and Raphael recognized just the hint of Latin in the tail end of her words. “I came for Sempronius. I had never seen this court before and when I expressed interest in it, _you_ suggested that I accompany him. I see that was quite _fortunate_ for you now, wasn’t it?”

Raphael smiled at her cleverness and ignored her question fully. “You two are quite inseparable, aren’t you?” Raphael asked as she smiled.

“Yes, since we were children. We were born the same year and our families were neighbors. He has _always_ been my best friend.” Her eyes fluttered nervously passed Raphael to the man that _looked_ human on the bench while she fiddled with her hands carefully, “But what the angel said … It cannot be true.” She shook her head.

“Why is that?” Raphael pressed gently, “She could not speak a lie, could she?”

“It just … _It can’t be true._ My child … “ She looked back to Quintus fleetingly before she met his violet-eyes again. “My child died with me _that night_.”

“Can you tell me about that night? Do you remember dying?” He asked and she shook her head.

“Not specifically, no.” She fiddled again with her hands, expressing great tension over the memory of it. “I remember … _fading away_.”

“Can you tell us more about _that night_?” He prodded, ever so very kindly and she complied.

“My father had sold me.” She cleared her throat. “Times were _difficult_ and my family was _very_ poor. There had been a drought that summer and many in our village were starving. The emperor was accepting tokens of payment to feed your family for the entire year. _Virgins_.”

Raphael waited patiently as she stared, in turn, from him to Quintus and then to Densus in the crowd, back to her hands and the cycle would repeat.

“And were you a virgin, _Honoria_?” Raphael smiled.

“No.” She giggled. “I was not. But … There was little I could do. If I had said something, the truth would have come out and … “ She trailed off as she looked to Densus.

Raphael offered a concise answer for her, “Both you _and_ your lover would have _paid the price_ for your _indiscretion?_ ”

“Yes.”

“Please continue.”

“He fought so hard but they were killing him. I begged him to let me go. I promised him that we would find each other again. But I didn’t know what I was being taken for. I was brought to the capital.” She was embarrassed to disclose such a thing and she stuttered as tears swelled into her eyes. “To the palace. I was sixteen. There were so many of us.” There was a long pause.

“Please continue.” Raphael urged.

“We were taken to _a monster._ ” Shaking her head as she stated, “A monster. But I have _never_ seen _that angel_ before.”

“Can you describe this _monster?_ ”

“He was a _boy_ with the whitest of skin and eyes of flaming scarlet … and … a tongue of …” She paused as she searched for the right words, “Of pure violence.”

“He attacked you?”

“Yes. He tasted me, but …” She smiled with confidence. “I showed him that _not only monsters_ are capable of violence.”

“You managed to escape?” Raphael smiled.

“My lover was the son of a blacksmith. He had fashioned me a beautiful silver knife as a … “ She cleared her throat. “ _A gift._ ”

“And you knew how to wield this weapon?”

“Of course.” She chuckled. “We taught each other.” 

“What occurred next?”

“I don’t know what really happened. I ran from the building … from the capital. All I could think of was getting back home … getting back to my family. All I could think of was saving the child that grew within me.”

“You never made it home, did you?” Raphael asked sadly.

“No. I faded away. I awoke here.”

“And your child?”

“It was _never_ born.” She stated firmly. “My child died with me that day.”

“How old was it?”

“Seven weeks.” She stated.

“Just old enough to have the _tiniest of heartbeats_.” Raphael grinned at her as he blinked softly before _he explained to her_ what had actually occurred next. “Once the strix plague took hold in your mind, your soul parted but _your body continued_. It continued on, _giving birth to a son_.”

She refused his statement. “ ** _My child died._** It was never born. I was told its soul returned to the pool to be reborn and sent to another.” She was certain. She was _so very certain_ and the tears welling up within her eyes were of profound confusion _and yearning_. But Raphael also knew they were also the tears of swelling _hope_.

He shook his head as he locked eyes with her, showing her an intensity and seriousness that would overwhelm most. “ ** _No_**. Your body, strong and determined to continue, gave birth to a **_son of prophecy_**. A son, who would go on to avenge _your_ death and so very _many_ others. A son who went on to _save mankind_ from imminent slavery. Regardless of how many have been paraded in front of you … in front of _us_ , here today, he saved an _entire world_ of _innocents_. He saved _the Earth_ from divine retribution and he returned our _cherished Brother_ , _the oldest of all_.”

Not even Gabriel threatened a retort at this statement as he glared at Raphael.

“I am sorry for needing to press further. And I think it is _quite obvious_ , but … for the record. Who _is_ **_his_** father?” _Is._ The key word in that sentence and her heart leapt when she looked back to Quintus now, smiling as she saw that the man, for all intents and purposes, looked remarkably like her lover. Raphael could see the acceptance of it crawling across her sweet face and she laughed out loud.

“It _is_ quite obvious. _Look at his face._ His father _**is** _ … ” She accepted the tense of the word and her eyes never moved from Quintus’ from this point on. “Sempronius Densus.”

Gabriel leaned back as his shoulders dropped and Raphael smirked at the fluttering sign of growing concession, “Thank you, _Honoria_.” Nodding to him, she made a motion to stand and he turned back around, glancing at Gabriel for a long moment. “Actually, I do have _one more_ question.”

She sat back down, her eyes wide with wonder. “Yes?”

“I called you _Honoria Helenus_. Is that your name?” He nudged her to disclose something he already knew was true and she shook her head.

“It is the name I was born with. But … “ She stopped and looked into the crowd, locking eyes with Sempronius as he nodded to her. “not the name I died with. My name is _Honoria Densus_.”

“Densus?  You are married to Sempronius Densus?” Raphael pushed.

“Of course.”

“And when did this occur?” Raphael remain focused on Gabriel’s face specifically as the giant angel squinted at him.

She chuckled slightly. “In the summer of 39. He was unable to pay the dowry my father wished and we were married in secret when we were both sixteen.”

“So … You were married at the time your son was _both_ conceived _and_ born.” Gabriel shook his head meekly but offered no words as his little brother smirked, neither moving from each other’s stare. Raphael qualified further as he raised an absurdly high eyebrow, “ _Please let the record state that Quintus Sertorius, in fact, is **not** and **has never been** a_ **bastard.** ”


	9. Interlude 1 - Between the Idea and the Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to get _incredibly_ embarrassed when I write these chapters, so I hope that people enjoy them enough to warrant the extreme blushing that I must endure.
> 
> So, I told someone what would occur in this part and they were not very happy. If you start to read and don’t like where it is going, I _**strongly encourage**_ you to read until the end of it. I’ve always wanted to portray things realistic rather than ideal and as such, not everything always works out absolutely beautiful and without conflict. It is through conflict in relationships that _real bonds_ form. If nothing ever went wrong, then I would question if passion ever really existed to begin with.
> 
> Also, I apologize. I don’t seem to be able to write sex without also attaching some heart wrenching feels onto it. See the end for more notes.
> 
> Enjoy. (◠‿◠✿)ノ
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

## Between the Idea and the Reality

 

####  **_8 Earthly Months Ago_ **

####  **_In a tiny, warm, secluded cabin, nestled in the woodlands of New York state, not far from Lake Onondaga_ **

 

>   _My beating heart always tick-tocks, tick-tocks_
> 
> _But when I think of you makes my heart stops, heart stops_
> 
> _The rhythm of my life is changing, changing_
> 
> _To a temple that is racing, racing_

He kissed … _oh gods he kissed_ , “ _We have all day and … “ His tongue brushed her soft lips,_ “ ** _I am not yet satiated._** ”

Quintus’ eyes grew wide as she began to move down his body, planting tiny kisses along his skin as she went. He thought perhaps she would stop at his chest, but as she continued her meandering path downwards, his heart jumped with excitement. _Was she going to …_

He propped himself up on his elbows as he spoke quickly and nervously, “ _No. No. No._ ” He attempted to dissuade her. For Quintus, and for that fact … _all Romans_ , the act of _fellatio_ was considered a great defilement for the taker. It was an action of great dominance that should only be performed by lowly prostitutes. She was most definitely _not_ a prostitute and he did not wish to show her such debasement.

“You didn’t let _me_ say _no_.” She pouted to him as he stared down to her with concern. This was actually true. He’d performed the act on her, but he had wished to show her _immense pleasure_. “You don’t like it?” She pondered while he considered it, brushing his thumb across the softskin of her lower lip.

“ _Indeed_ , I do. But, are you _certain_?” He received no words in response, just a tiny smile that caused his body to flutter with childish anticipation. “You do _not_ have to do this. _My action_ does not need reciprocation.” He did enjoy it and the thought of _her_ performing it sent his body into sudden submission to her will.

As her lips began to pepper his shaft, he watched with still eagerness while the sensations began to overwhelm him. Dainty kisses with her thin lips evoked a pleased purr full of low rattles and he found himself unable to take his eyes from her. When her hair fell down, blocking his view slightly, he scooped it to the back of her head and held it gently there as she finally opened her mouth and allowed him to slip within it.

_Oh …_

“You do not need to … _uhhh_ … to do … _uhhhh_ … _this_.” He hesitantly gave her an out again but instead she took more of his length into her warm mouth, her lips stretching over his girth while her tongue played with him within. As he felt himself completely relaxing under her control, Quintus’ body twitched dramatically. His hand, which still pinned the hair to the back of her head, unintentionally and momentarily crushed her down further over him.

She heaved briefly from the sudden jerk and attempted to pull back, but he did not permit her leave his shaft entirely, as he pushed her head back down over it, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it to _encourage_ her to bob up and down with greater velocity while he apologized softly, “Forgive me. _Uhhhh_ … That was … _uhhhh_ … unintentional … “

_Unintentional, yes. But, oh gods, it had been nice …_

Overall, her movements were shy and he found himself becoming _almost_ frustrated with it. It felt so good, but he wished more. To go deeper, to go faster, to suck harder, to feel her tightness around him and right now, she was getting only half of his length inside of her. He released his grip on her hair, urging himself to lie back and _enjoy_ her gentle nature, even as his body begged to be in _control_.

_Patience._

He chastised himself as he watched her eyes looking up at him. He repeated it to himself as his hands gripped the scratchy rug on either side of them. He told himself as he struggled to comply with his own commands. Being _out of control_ was something that he found difficult to accept and she was being _so torturously gentle_ with him. Even though he found her tongue marvelously sweet as it swirled around him, he craved more friction.

_Please Quintus … Good God, patience._

When she replaced her mouth with her hands, he felt himself _pouting_ down to her. He missed her mouth at once, and while she obviously had _some_ experience with her hands, he felt increasingly teased. Even her hands were too tame, as if she thought she might _crush_ him under her delicate grip. He locked eyes with hers and furrowed his brow in an unintentional display of minor displeasure. Her mouth dropped open in swift humiliation as she released him entirely, attempting a retreat.

_Damnation, Quintus._

"Oh god. I’m sorry … I … I’m not very good at th–” She stuttered in increasing embarrassment but he was quick to grab her hand and prevent her impending flight. He placed it carefully back onto his excruciatingly hard member.

“ _Please do not stop._ ” He requested as he gripped her fingers around him _tighter_ , moving her hand up and down _faster_ while using the still present saliva to grease the beautiful action, “ _You will_ **_not_** _break me._ ” He squeezed her hand with even more pressure and she understood what he wanted … what he _needed_.

Following his direction, she fastened her grasp around him, squeezing harder as she repeated the same actions as before. “ _Yes_.” He purred and rattled as he released her hand to continue without his guidance. On the up slide of her stroke, she closed her small fist around his head as she milked the pleasure out of him with less delicacy this time.

“ _Yes._ **_Uhhhh_**. _Yes._ ” He hissed as the bliss began to incapacitate him, “I … **_uhhhh_** … _this. Est perfectum._ ” Quintus murmured, but he knew he wasn’t forming complete sentences anymore so he stopped trying as his words turned to moans instead. Her free hand was idle on his thigh and he stared at it for a moment, hoping for movement. As her eyes caught his hint, she moved it to fondle his balls.

_Yes._

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as she stroked every inch of him below with both hands. Quaking from a prolonged strigoi twitch, he heaved forward as her nimble thumb tickled his sensitive flesh just under his testes. They were _so very sensitive._

**_“Uuuhhhhhhh … Shit.”_ **

****

* * *

****

He was enjoying this … _Oh gods yes_. But … he wanted _more_ … He wished she hadn’t moved her mouth away.

She stared up at him, trying to gauge what he was enjoying more and when his eyes finally opened again, she saw a small grin encompass his pale face as he reached out, touching her jaw gently as he rubbed his thumb across her lower reddened lip, pulling it down tenderly so he could feel the moisture of her inner mouth within.

“ ** _Fellatio_**.” He bit into his own lower lip, watching her mouth part open again before she tugged his skin down to fully expose his head to allow her to envelope him again. Quintus growled in loud and terrifying satisfaction as she used both her hand and her mouth in harmony. “ _Yes. Perfect._ ”

He writhed in ecstasy, grabbing the carpet around him as he pushed up into her, slightly thrusting. It seemed as if the minor push ignited something else within him. “ **[Irrumatio](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irrumatio)**.” He breathed to her as his body twitched with the _mere_ mention of the word.

“Irrumatio?” She pulled away and repeated the word more as a question than a recitation. _Irrumatio?_ She might have asked again, needing direction but his other hand came around behind her head, urging her tired mouth back down around his tip before he thrust up slowly into her mouth from underneath as far as she could comfortably take him … at first.

_Oh …_

The other hand that had been clenching the carpet now joined the other hand behind her head as he thrust up _again_ slowly, but slightly deeper, repeating one more time as she engulfed him further, “ ** _Irrumatio_**."  At this point, she considered _tapping out_ , but he was _loving it_ and she loved that he was _loving_ it.

_Oh crap …_

His fists closed around her hair as if they were handles and her hands fell to either side of his body, bracing herself as he began to buck into her. His thrusts increasing with speed and depth each time causing her eyes to water slightly as she stared up to his drunk eyes. His mouth agape, his breath shallow, his body rigid, Quintus had started to sneer as he furrowed his nostrils with each of his firm plunges inside her resistant depth.

 ** _”[Auriolus](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Auriolus)_** _.“_ He growled down to her as she felt him push viciously hard, sliding down her throat a bit more and her back arched in discomfort as she felt herself heave again slightly.

_Oh fuck …  
_

She attempted to pull back a bit to catch her breath, but his strength was profound as he was overwhelmed with carnal passion.  Looking up to his face, she found his were eyes shut as he was _already_ reeling back, arching his own lower back as he howled to the ceiling with _latin_ words she’d never heard.

_**”[Meus es tu dea. Te adoro!](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/You%20are%20my%20goddess.%20I%20worship%20you!)** “_

_Holy shit … is he?!   INSIDE OF HER MOUTH!?_   _NO!  Down  her throat!?_ Her hands tapped his thighs frantically, but it was far too late for retreat now, it was already happening. He was beyond any rational reach as he had already hit his the beginning of his climax and his grip forced her to stay in place as he inched even further down her throat. She felt herself convulsing slightly as he undulated deep inside of her.

 

* * *

 

 _” **[Gratias. Gratias tibi.](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Gratias.%20Gratias%20tibi.)** “_  He purred softly from his close eyes, euphoria moving through his body as he rubbed the softness of her hair between his fingers.

When he finally eased his grasp on her, it was an intensely gentle release but she pulled back fiercely, bringing her hand to her mouth as she rocked back, falling onto the ground away from him on her butt. Her sudden movement caused Quintus to open his eyes immediately as he sat up. Upon seeing the look of shock upon her face caused his euphoric smile to fade instantly.

"What is wrong?” He questioned but she was unable to speak as her hand still covered her mouth entirely. “What is it?!?” His voice was increasing in tone as he began to be slightly panicked by the look of _shock_ in her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

_Had he done something wrong? He had asked her if she was certain …_

What happened next, Quintus was not expecting at all. He was laying, completely bare to her. Everything was exposed, both his body _and_ his soul, having given up every ounce of control he _could_ to _her_ and she’d rewarded him absolutely. But now, in this fundamental moment of _vulnerability_ , she did something he was not expecting.

She … **_hit_** him.

It was not a lovely nor playful tap and as the palm of her hand connected fully with his cheek, he did not really feel much physical pain, but his ego was certainly bruised. As he brought his hand up to touch his face in surprise, his eyes grew wide, “ _Libellula!_ ” She looked shocked at even her own action as her hand covered her mouth. There was a brief moment of utter silence before Quintus fully internalized that she had actually _struck_ him.

_Unacceptable._

_“You will_ **_not_** _strike me!”_ _This behavior was unacceptable._ He had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her over him before he had even realized what he was doing and she seemed to still be in slight shock of her own action because she did not protest … at first. As his heart raced with rising confusion and his ego screamed for retribution, he pulled her down across his lap. This was the moment she realized what was about to occur and she tried desperately to pull out of his grip furiously.

“Quintus no! Don’t!”

“ _You will_ **_not_** _strike me!_ ” He chastised her again but she did not halt her fighting, even as she realized her efforts were completely useless. As his palm swatted her bare cheeks once and she shrieked loudly, screaming his name. He was sure the noise that it made was far worse than the pain itself but as soon as the single spank was complete, he released his hold of her wrist and she reeled back away from him.

He did not wish to hurt her, _but this behavior was unacceptable_. It was _not_ her place to strike him. As she became free of him, she continued to scramble back to get away from him only to fall down onto the ground backwards. He reached out to grab her, but she hit the ground _very hard_ and he lept to his feet.

“Oh!” He reached down to aid her up but she slapped his hand away harshly. As her face angled up to glare at him, he spied the tears that streaked newly across it.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” She screamed at him and he huffed in frustration as he reached down for her again.

“Do not act this way.” He commanded but she smacked his hand away again. “You are being a child.”

“ _Don’t touch me ever again!_ ” She cried, pulling her naked body into a tight ball and Quintus immediately regretted his action, yet he still felt like he should explain himself.

“ _Libellula …_ That was barely a swat.” He stood, staring down at her, entirely unsure of what to do now. Her silence concerned him the most as she pulled herself into an even tighter ball, now completely hiding her face from him though he could smell the tears that were flowing. “Please …”

He placed a hand on her shoulder but she was still unmoving and as he tried to rock her over so that he might pick her up, she _winced_ at him before pulling herself even tighter. He watched in horror as she cowered from him and he pulled back immediately, _shame_ flooding all of his senses.

“ _Do not be silly … I will not hurt you_ ” He assured her but she continued to say _nothing_. His frustration over the dire situation grew. “I would _never …_ ” She had _never_ reacted this way to him before and nausea over the realization of it swam over him. Was she _afraid_ of him?

Quintus felt the same as he did in that damn room that night, when she had pushed him away for his own stupidity. It was a terrible combination of shame, fear, resentment, and self loathing. It enveloped his mind and flooded over his body and, just as it had done that _damn_ night, he fled. He might have grabbed more than JUST his pants, but he was flustered and … _why did she have so much damn power over him_?!

Before he ran from the situation entirely, he paused at the front door, turning back to her one last time, he sneered. “ _You hit me_ **_first!!!_** ”

As the cold air hit him in the face, he suddenly remembered there was a blizzard outside.

 _Damnation_.

He could barely see off the tiny porch, even with his preternatural senses and he quickly pulled on his pants, buttoning and zipping them as he considered what he would do next. It was far too cold to go for a walk, even for him and he didn’t wish to venture far from the cabin. The visibility being as poor as it was, he _might_ not be able to find his way back until the storm cleared.

Quintus eased himself down onto the wood planks of the porch to the right side of the door. The porch would, at the very least, afford him some amount of shelter from the torturous snow and as he wrapped himself into his own tight ball, pulling his knees close to his chest, he sneered again under his breath.

“ ** _She_** hit **_me_** first.” Even as the words escaped his mouth, he felt himself doubt the justification of his own action. When he began to finally shiver, he _knew_ it wasn’t a valid excuse. Carefully, Quintus replayed everything step by step in his mind. Mulling over what had just occurred, he closed his eyes as he considered what happened.

 _Damnation_.

 

* * *

He’d sat outside until he felt his toes begin to go numb. It had been at least half an hour before he picked himself up and shook off the snow that had accumulated upon his head and shoulders. He had two options. He could continue to _pout_ and wait out in the cold, secretly hoping that she would come to retrieve him but he realized that her own _defiance_ might actually trump his own. Or he could go back inside and apologize.

He took a deep breath of frigid air before he re-entered the cabin. He did not see her for a moment, but he could hear her breathing from the other side of the couch. As he rounded it, he saw her laying on it, with the front of her body buried against the back cushions and her back facing him. She was now wearing _his_ shirt and it was loose on her, as always. He eased down onto the far end, brushing her feet slightly as he did so. She pulled them away from him in a show of continued anger.

He sat in patient silence and stared at the fire as it crackled, enjoying the heat as it returned to his body and most importantly _his toes_. He played his apology over and over in his head and as he was starting to coax himself to speak it, she spoke first. Her voice was muffled, still pushed into the cushions she was using to hide herself from him.

“I’m sorry.”

He was not expecting this and he blinked. “Do not be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She stirred, finally sitting up as she pulled herself into a ball again but keeping herself on the opposite side of the couch from him. “You’re right. I hit you … I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize to me.” He said, “I do not deserve it. My actions were _unaccept_ –”

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have _hit_ you.” She shook her head and he was pleased to see that her eyes weren’t swollen _or_ red as this meant she’d stopped crying quite a while ago. “I was … _just surprised_.” She confessed, unable to look him in the eyes yet.

“No. I am sorry. You perceived my action as a … “ He hated to use the word, as it was entirely unintentional. “ _Violation_.”

“I just … I wasn’t expecting … _that_. But that gave me no right to–”

He interrupted, shaking his head. “No. If I had perceived a _violation_ of _that nature_ , I would have done far worse than _strike_ the person. But … ” She looked at him finally. “It was honestly _not_ my intention to _violate_ you.”

“No. Please stop saying _that_. You didn’t … “ She swallowed. “Violate me. I just wasn’t expect … _that_.” She said again and there was a brief laugh at the end of her sentence. The presence of this laughter gave Quintus a glimmer of hope that he could fix whatever he had broken.

“ _That_? I thought you were _offering_ … **_that_**. I am quite sorry. I did not intend to be so … _enthusiastic_.”

“I just thought it was … you know … _foreplay_.” She shrugged as she bit the inside of her mouth. “I mean … _earlier you didn’t let_ **_me_** _finish when you were–_ ”

“Oh.” He was almost embarrassed at his misunderstanding, as she was _right_. He had not _finished_ her off earlier. “I … But, you kept going and it was … **_very nice_**.”

“I mean … _you’re supposed to tell someone before you …”_ She stuttered a bit. “Before you … you know.”

“Is this a _new rule?_ ” He furrowed his brow a bit. “I was not aware.” He hesitated. Had times changed _this much_ since he had last had _that_. He smiled innocently to her as he slid over a foot closer to her. “ _Next time_ I promise to let you know.”

“ _Next time?_ ” She laughed and he pouted, moving another foot closer to her. “Yeah, that’s not gonna–”

“Perhaps I can … _return the favor?_ ” He offered as his innocent smile turned mischievous and he reached out and tugged gently on the bottom of his shirt that dangled loosely on her frame. She pushed his hand away, furrowing her brow to him.

“And … you can’t just … “ She cleared her throat, seeming to have a problem with the next word before she spoke it. “ _Spank … me_ when I do something you don’t like.” He was now beside her and he was incredibly grateful she had not retreated entirely. She was _showing_ no fear of him any longer and he doubted she _ever_ was afraid. She was angry, but _not_ afraid and he heaved a sigh of relief. “You don’t get to treat me like a child.”

“You are _very young_ though.” He leaned forward to smell her hair and she pulled it away from him to show her disappointment in his words. “And also quite small.” He tried another innocent smile and her nostrils flared.

She pointed her finger to his face and he stared down at it, pursing his lips together. “You don’t get to _correct_ my behavior. It’s not how this is gonna work.”

“I understand.” He put his hands up in a surrendering fashion, showing his palms to her. “I apologize.  No more … _spanking_ … unless it is requested.”  He flashed her an evil smirk.

“Quintus.” Her eyes burned with concern. “I’m being serious. You can’t–”

Rolling his head in aggravated acceptance, he nodded. “I know. I … my action was _unacceptable_.” He placed a kiss upon her forehead before he stood from the couch. He grinned as she nearly reached out to stop him from retreating, but pulled her hand back as she realized that was not his intention at all. Turning his back to her, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the ground at his feet. He presented his backside to her fully.

Closing his eyes, he spoke solemnly. “Strike me. As hard as you wish. I promise I will not stop you.”

 

* * *

 

Her mouth fell agape as she stared at his butt in front of her face. She hadn’t seen it so close up and she had to hold in a giggle. She _considered_ spanking him back, but as her eyes trailed up his back, her heart fell once she spied at all of the scars that riddled across it. Replaying her own trauma in her mind, she closed her eyes tightly.

 _He’d been through so much violence_. He was born from violence. He was raised on violence. At times, she was certain violence was the only language he spoke. He had experienced far more than even _her_ and she breathed out as the shame of her initial action struck her. _She had hit him_ … like so many others had. He trusted her and she had _struck_ him.

No. Regardless of what she had been through, she couldn’t use her own history of violence to justify _anymore_ towards him. He deserved better from this world. He deserved better _from her_.

“But I …” She stated sullenly. “I don’t _want_ to.”

He turned and looked down at her as a small smile spread across his lips. “It is alright. I will allow it. You may strike me.” She wasn’t sure how difficult this was for him to _allow_ , but she _would_ not.

“No.” She responded to him softly, her hand finding his as she tugged him back down onto the couch with her. “I don’t _want_ to hit you.”

Their foreheads touched as he nestled his face into her neck, kissing it gently. “Nor do I wish to strike you.” A wave of relief was expressed as his shoulders fell, relaxing completely and his voice trembled as he spoke next, melting into the couch and pulling her close to him.

“ _Please_ be patient with me.” He asked as he pulled her palm to his bare chest, pressing it firmly over his heart so that she could feel the powerful beat through his warm skin. Leaning in towards her, his lips found hers with a long but simple kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite hard for me to put out there. I don’t think being in a relationship with Q would be an easy thing at all. I don’t think it would be butterflies and rainbows and unicorns. Instead, it would be hard, infuriating, and maddening because he is a manipulative control freak. He is _far_ from perfect but _that_ is what drew me to him to begin with.
> 
> For any that didn’t like this and want to assume that Q being a tad bit misogynistic is OOC, remember that equality for women is a relatively new concept for most societies, considering the places that he was raised and has lived in. _**He owned his wife for christ's sake.**_ I think it would be _extremely_ unrealistic to deny that he would still harbor these lingering stereotypes of women to some degree and it would be completely untrue to his character _and past_ to not at least address it at _some point_.
> 
>   
>    
> 


	10. 2.1 - Paradise

“How long will it be?” He asked from his all too familiar metal bench and Ozryel simply shrugged from her matching one. Her usually happy face was replaced with a significant frown and Quintus noticed immediately. She usually jumped at the opportunity to talk and he felt her mood had been off since they’d returned him to the cell hours earlier.

There definitely was no **_where_** to this place, as the two guards that had brought Ozryel to the court were also the two that had returned _him_ to his cell … **_the short way_**. He had turned the corner at the top of the stairs and found himself back in the cell block corridor suddenly. This saddened him as he was hoping to catch another glimpse of _Abraham_ or … possibly spy the Densus couple again. They had left the amphitheater in a rush after her unexpected testimony.

Now he was back and it had been several agonizing hours. He wondered how long would it really take for the Governor to come to a decision. Mulling over the leverage that he had over the angel, Quintus was nervous that he didn’t fully understand it yet. Without _knowing_ why Dawn’s father was important to Michael, there was simply no safe way he could try to use that information to his advantage. Regardless, he could _not_ forget that Michael had instructed him to let her _die_ in that underground bunker. ** _No_**. _That had been unacceptable_. That angel was _not_ her friend.

“You know … you needn’t hate me.” Ozryel spoke suddenly and plainly.

“Why is that?” He asked, more curious than annoyed.

“Because you won.” She shrugged.

“You really think so? Why? Because you are _here?_ ” Quintus shook his head. “No. You deserve far worse than–”

“ ** _You won_** , child.” She chuckled, her carefree attitude suddenly returned, as she jumped up from her bench with glee, grabbing the bars to stare at him. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“You should burn in hell for the harm that you have caused.” He growled.

“You gave _your Master_ are far worse fate than Hell. Don’t you see?” He offered nothing to her intelligible dribble and she smiled, as she qualified further. “You gave him _oblivion_ , child. _He no longer exists in any shape or form now_.”

He blinked at her. “ _You still exist._ ” She was attempting to play mind games with him again and his frustration started to grow.

“But he really doesn’t. Not anymore.” She spun around once before grabbing the bars again. “That is why they were _so terrified_ of reforming me. _The Ancients._ They _knew_ that everything they were, individually, would utterly be lost. And the _Seventh_ feared it the _very_ most of them all.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. His instinct was to call her a liar, to spit insults and reiterate that she _was indeed the Master_ , but as he stared at the being across the way, more than just a small part of him realized her words rang truth. He considered accepting it as there was almost a peacefulness in what she was saying. He _had_ won and he might have given _the Master_ a far worse fate than _Hell_. He had served him up to nothingness.

Silence ensued and as he stared at the ground for a number of minutes, the absolute ridiculousness of his situation struck him which caused him to laugh out loud, piquing Ozryel’s interest.

“What is so amusing?” She queried. He shook his head back and forth, staring down at his pale hands. He’d let his appearance shift back to his natural state as he actually felt _more_ comfortable this way. He felt like he had been wearing a mask before, to _put on a show_. It was unlike him to be so disingenuous.

He shrugged and explained his laughter. “If someone had told me I would be here two months ago … I would have thought them mad.” He looked up with the faintest of smiles still lingering across his face. “I was so _sure_ that I _knew_ everything. I was _certain_ of it. I would not even listen to _Abraham_ when he read about these _ridiculous_ myths in the _Lumen_.”

Ozryel gave a small chuckle herself. “You forget, child. Setrakian is a hunter, yes, but he is also quite a religious man. You have never been.” She offered with a stern face and Quintus sighed.

“If gods were real, I saw no point in worshipping something that gave me the life I had.”

Nodding as she agreed with him, she offered another take on it, “One who is _born of gods_ need not _worship_ them.” She might have spoken more, but there was a shuffling noise down the hallway and the same two guards were in front of his cell again, with Raphael in tow behind them, his posture still completely straight and his hands clasped behind his back.

“It is time.” He smiled.

The bars were gone but as he stepped through to make his exit, he stepped too close to the other cell and Ozryel was there in a flash, reaching out and gripping his arm with a grip unlike any he’d ever felt. The sadness on her face returned as she spoke hurriedly while he tried to pull himself from her remarkably strong fingers.

“Quintus. Do come back and visit me … _please_. I fear it shall be very lonely and quiet here without you to keep me company. There are _many things I can teach you_.” The words _might_ have been genuine, but he understood they were merely a distraction for Raphael as she spoke at the same time, right into his mind. 

> **_You will be back when you realize your Poet is not safe. Michael does not even know that she is already being pursued by something far more sinister than I ever was._ **

Quintus stared at her, holding in all of his boiling emotion, his eyes just as wide as hers and for a moment, he had stopped trying to free himself from her grasp. The smile spread across her face and she repeated, “You will be back to see me?” She was so sure of it and he sneered as she released him, grabbing the bars and pressing her face between them while they began to walk away.

He tried to brush off her statement as she was simply trying _to control_ him again. _Right?_ Yes, he was certain of it. Her sadness had been real and it was obvious she did not wish to be alone and now she was attempting to dangle a carrot before him to get him to return. Right? _A carrot_ that she knew he could not refuse. Regardless, it still made him uneasy and his already present worry only grew.

Manipulation was something they _both_ did quite well but he gave her no response merely glancing back to her quickly before they turned the corner. Her voice growing more distant the farther they walked from her.

“You **_will_** come back to see me! **_You will be back! You should make it sooner rather than later! You know will miss me!_** ” 

> **_Heed my warning, child.   I am not your enemy.  Trust none._ **

 

* * *

 

The crowd was much the same as it had been and as he walked by the aisle with _Sempronius_ and _Honoria_ , he found himself unable to do much other than turn from their faces entirely. They were seeing him in his dhampir form for the first time now and the look on their faces was somewhat of shock. This is the moment when he realized he had _forgotten_ to change his appearance and this explained the growing whispers throughout the ampitheatre. Everyone now saw him for the _monster_ he was.

“I should have changed my appearance again.” It was almost an apology to Raphael and the angel smiled.

“No. Keep yourself like this. It will be better for this second part.” Raphael stated as he grinned.

“Second part?” Quintus cocked his head to the right as he asked and Raphael smiled even wider as he raised his eyebrows. _Oh gods._ The angel was planning something else. “They gawk at me like I am a … monster.” He assumed it was no different here than it had been on _Earth_ and Raphael shook his head at the statement.

“They look at you with amazement, Quintus. Not fear. _Look_ at their faces. You are so very clearly _Hayyoth_. You look so much like the _five_ of us.”

 _Five._ This was the first time he’d heard Raphael mention … _a Fifth Brother_.

“And you five are feared, are you not?” Quintus accepted and Raphael, once again, shook his head. 

“No, Quintus. _We are revered_.” Raphael breathed out, “As will you be.”

It was in _this_ response, that the _Poet’s_ words shook loose from his memory. Her words, uttered to him that last day: 

> “No. _You are wrong_.” She had touched his face, tracing the veins across the left side of his face and brushing his scar delicately. “I look at you _with wonder_.” He had leaned forward to her, watching her lips intently, unsure of what she might say next. “I look at you with _awe_.”

Raphael stared at him carefully as the blue sparks erupted across his face. He could _feel_ Quintus remembering and the dhampir shoved the memory from his head as everyone sat and as Michael entered. The Governor did not return to his perch above everyone, but instead sat on the seat of truth and his voice was absolutely booming. 

> “As I was not allowed to recuse myself from this proceeding, let my judgement flow from my own lips without the chance of any argument that it is **_not the truth_**. What I will say here, now, today, will be set forth as law and there will be no counter arguments to be made. This judgement is final, everlasting, and irrevocable.” This was directed to Gabriel and the giant angel nodded.

> **_“Rise, Quintus Densus and stand ready for divine judgement.”_ **

Michael commanded and for a fleeting moment Quintus forgot that **_this_** was **_his_** name. He stood tall and straight, clasping his hands in front of himself as any good soldier does and he stared at the helmeted face before him.

 _Quintus Densus._ He repeated it in his mind over and over again as a great swell of pride began to grow within his chest. He could actually not think of a better name to have at this point in time. He was a _Densus_. **Absolutely astounding.**

> “As _you_ were so elegant to point out, Gabriel, my dear _little_ brother. We’re _all simply just reflections_ of the one who made us. _The three of us know this painful fact more than most._ We’re made from their bits and pieces. From their faults and their strengths. We’re _our father’s children_ and we’re all created from _his_ image.”
> 
> “You claimed that he was made from the image one of the _most vile_ and _detestable_ things to have _ever existed_ , when in actuality … “ Michael paused for a moment, seemingly shocked by the revelation of Quintus’ lineage. “He is born from one of the _greatest_ men whom has _ever_ lived. A man that I, _myself_ , consider a friend and those who know me best understand that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.” Quintus found himself holding his breath.
> 
> “But, regardless of his father, Quintus was _conceived_ from one mother and one father … _not two_. Ozryel _didn’t create him_ , he merely _exalted_ him. No one is denying that _he changed him._ Therefore, on the accusation of being a Demiarc, _The Feared_ , _The Most Forbidden of Abominations_ , I find that **_Quintus Densus is irrevocably innocent._** ” Quintus breathed out carefully and there was a brief pause in the Governor’s speech before he continued.
> 
> “And … As my brother is sure to vehemently argue later, understand that _this_ was _not an easy_ decision to make. There’s a painful sorrow which accompanies it … _for me in particular_. If Quintus Densus is _not_ a nephil, then neither were the previous four _Unconquerable_ that were extinguished from the Earth, and the atrocity of their souls’ destructions falls solely on _my shoulders_.” Michael paused. “ _And … my heart._ As such, upon the _Creator’s_ return, I expect to be _judged on these actions_.”

Whispers erupted behind him, but Quintus remained unmoving. Gabriel stirred and Raphael stood immediately, seeming _to know_ what was about to occur from his large brother.

“If you are finding that he is indeed **_a man_** , then I challenge his place here and demand that his worth and standing here be weighed by[ **Raqib** and](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiraman_Katibin) **[Atid.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiraman_Katibin)”** Gabriel bellowed as the violet-eyed angel attempted a planned rebuttal.

_"But he is not man. He should not be judged as–”_

The staff slammed against the ground as both angels were silenced and Michael resumed speaking. 

> “ ** _Enough!!!_** Raphael, _of this detail_ , I’m _already_ completely aware. Gabriel, _calm your fire_ and sit back down. I’m not finished yet.”

Such an _odd_ term to use and Quintus cocked his head to the right. _An odd term indeed._ He’d _only ever heard that term_ before once, quite recently and from the _native woman_ when she had taken control of his _Poet_. The [genii](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genius_\(mythology\)), the guardian spirit of his _Poet_ , who now sat behind him six rows and still looked away from his glances.

 _Calm your fire. Interesting indeed._ Fighting the urge to turn and glance at her again, he filed it away in his impressive mind and kept his attention on the next words that bellowed from the Governor’s mouth. 

> “Though he may have been created by _men_ , he’s _not_ simply a man. For, even at _this distance_ , I can _feel_ the divinity that emanates and burns within his spirit. It’s _so strong_ that I’ve no doubts _everyone_ in this room has sensed it. His human soul has been bathing in _Ozryel’s_ divine fountain for nearly two thousand years and while it’s unclear if that _will ever fade_ , for now that sets him apart from simply **_being Man, the Powerless._** ”

There was a palpable tension in the air and Quintus heard Raphael, standing quietly beside him, whisper something under his breath to the dhampir. “Here it comes. Wait for it …” Even though Quintus didn’t look down to his angel counsel, he could _hear_ the smile on the angel’s face. 

> “No. He’s _not Man_. He’s so very clearly not of _The Powerless_ , and therefore he’ll _not be judged_ by their _mortal laws_. He is a creature of Divinity, as we all are. He’s **_Divine Ishim_**.”

Gabriel burst from his seat, “ _This is bullshit!_ There are _no Divine Ishim_ other than Prophets!” He spat, angrily. “There is _no such thing!_ Ishim have only been two! Ever! Man and Prophet, you can’t simply make up a new–” 

> Michael slammed his fist against the stone chair of truth as he bellowed back, “Does it look like I can _bullshit_ right now?!”

Hesitating to say anything in retort as the Governor’s anger was fierce, Gabriel sat back down carefully, sneering silently. 

> “There are four types of _Eshim_. There are four types of _Seraphim_. I fail to see a reason why there could not be _three_ types of _Ishim_. And to be completely clear, I haven’t _made him up_ , he stands before you now, a unique creature of grace. And, as **_everyone here must concede_** , there will be _no judgement_ of _any divine creature_. To allow such a thing to occur would punish most, _if not_ **_all_** , in this very room. Our kind are not held to the laws of man and thus neither will **_Quintus Densus_**.”

There were whispers and noises from behind as Michael paused to allow his words to resonate in everyone’s mind. Glaring at Gabriel, he waited for some kind of retort and when he received none, he continued. 

> “For the record, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the scales would tip to his favor. His ultimate sacrifice prevented Divine Retribution, and that would easily out balance the circus of _fools_ that you have paraded before us today. The request for him to be _measured_ is **_irrevocably denied_**.”

Michael stood as he slammed the staff against the ground loudly causing Gabriel to fling his hair back from his face and mutter something vile under his breath. Raphael shifted his stance and Quintus moved his attention back to the smiling violet-eyed angel as the reality of the situation sunk in. 

“Is that it?  **I am free?** ” He pressed, unable to mask the relief that leaked into his uttered words. 

> “No Quintus Densus. That’s **_not_** it.” Michael huffed. “You’re unique but _powerful_. And as such, it’d be foolish for us to simply assume that you _aren’t dangerous_.”

Raphael opened his mouth to speak, but Michael’s hand came up sharply to silence him and the entire room fell quiet. Quintus worried now. His first thought on these words made him think that he would be returned to his _cell_ to spend eternity in the presence of that insane angel. 

> “It may be that my concerns are unfounded, but I’ll leave it up to you to earn that _possible_ trust.  Until such time as you do, you can’t be allowed to wander on your own … at least not entirely free.   _Bene[Puriel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puriel) _ and _Bene[Dokiel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dokiel),_ of my _Bene Elohim_ , will be your … _[watchers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watcher_\(angel\))_.  Consider this a type of … probation.”

Quintus heard the same two guards who had accompanied _him_ earlier shift behind him and Michael continued. 

> “ _One final thing._ Quintus, you’ve lived above the _laws of man_ your entire life. And I have suspicion that it may pain you greatly to succumb to _any form of servitude_ , but … understand that, **_with this mercy_** , _all divine beings_ are servants. Being recognized as such, we’ll expect no less from you, _boy_. Now … **_THAT will be all_**.”

There was one final slam of the staff against the stone ground as it burned with blue light. The chittering resumed behind him and the Governor stepped down the steps, walking past him. Waving for Quintus to follow them, Raphael trailed Michael and the assembly of people within the amphitheatre, stood and dispersed at once. As he stepped forward to follow, his _watchers_ never missed a step in trailing right behind him by several feet.

_Wonderful._

As they mounted the steps, the crowd outside collided with the crowd from within as a significant feeling of freedom rushed over Quintus. Once they were well past the amphitheatre stairs, Michael turned to face his little brother and this was the closest Quintus had ever been to the angel. He was finally able to see the bottom of his scruffy chin peaking out from under the helmet. _So, he did have a face afterall_ , it seemed.

“He will need a guide to help him transition. I will have one selected–” Michael started and Raphael smiled.

“It has already been taken care of.” Raphael smiled as he put out a hand to welcome an all too familiar dark-skinned woman, who was standing conspicuously off to the side, quite close to them. The Genii. As she stepped forward, she seemed to blush at the violet-eyed angel’s presence. “Quintus, this is Hathų. The last prophet born on _Earth_.”

This seemed to ignite Michael into a flurry of arguments. “No. No. No. That is _not necessary_. He has yet to prove his trustwor–”

Raphael seemed confused. “But Brother … You said it yourself. He is _Divine Ishim_ and the last _Divine Ishim_ have _always_ mentored the next. Allowing her to take this mantle will help to solidify the logic behind your judgement.”

Michael sighed as he turned to the woman, who grinned mildly back, “Prophet, you are _alright with this?_ We would _never_ ask you to do anything that you might perceive as beneath you. He is far from _a prophet_.”

She nodded her head carefully, “I am a good guide. One of the best. I am to show the _next_. It is how it has always been, has it not?”

Michael seemed to sigh one more time as he asked, “Divine Seer, how do **_you_** feel about my _judgement_? Did you find it fair and just?”

She smiled meekly as she spoke softly, “Very much so. I am both surprised _and_ pleased with the outcome.” She turned to Quintus. “He saved _many_.”

Michael gruffed a nod, starting to turn to leave, before he stopped his spin as he faced Quintus fully. Pointing a finger towards him, he warned, “Mind your manners, **_boy_**. She is _cherished_ here.” There was a pause. “A word about his rules, _prophet_?”

The two stepped away and though Quintus would have easily heard them on Earth, he could not here and he sighed in annoyance.

“Don’t worry.” Raphael smiled to him, ingesting and understanding the dhampir’s obvious frustration. “It will come back to you … once you get your footing.”

“What will?” Quintus asked.

“ _Your abilities_. Your strength. You have not lost what makes you special. On Earth, it was mostly _all in your Qliphoth_. Here, it has to come only from _your mind_.”

Quintus might have responded but he suddenly lunged forward violently to regain his footing after he felt something forceful connect with his back shoulder. He assumed he knew exactly who it was before he even spied Gabriel suddenly from his peripheral vision. He knew he had knocked into him ridiculously hard on purpose.

“ ** _Excuse me._** ” He sneered with an annoyed smile, stepping between him and Raphael before making his path beyond them, as the violet-eyed brother rolled his eyes at the unnecessary display.

“I apologize. He is a child.”

Gabriel, hearing his brother’s insult, turned and threw his hands up to his little brother. “Are we going? The Festival of the Burning Suns is nearly over. We’ve wasted enough time for this _nonsense_.” He waved a perturbed hand towards Quintus and continued down the steps another few feet before he turned again, waiting for his brother and expressing extreme exasperation on the delay.

Raphael took a step forward to follow before he paused and turned back. “Congratulations, _Mr. Densus_. I wish you the very best luck here. And please, seek me out if you find you need someone to … speak with.”

Quintus nodded as he saw the dark-skinned woman returning from her hushed conversation with the Governor. Raphael leaned even more towards him with the warmest smile he’d ever seen and Quintus thought just for a moment that he might actually _like_ this being. He found himself _actually_ starting to smile back at the rich and intense violet eyes. “Thank you, Raphael.”

But this was just a tiny, small fraction of moment. Raphael blinked delicately to him as he spoke too softly for the woman to hear. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his words; it was simply a statement and he smirked while he said it into the dhampir’s ear. “Rest assured, Quintus. _I ** _ _will__** find out what you are hiding from me._ ”

As quickly as the dhampir’s smile had appeared, it retreated and he locked eyes with the angel for just an instant before Gabriel bellowed yet again.

“Let’s go already!” And like that, Raphael followed his larger brother down the steps. Gabriel slapped an arm around him firmly and Raphael cringed at the contact, but did not refuse it. Quintus listened to their _almost_ jovial conversation as they slowly walked away. He found the display confusing, as he was almost _certain_ they _hated_ each other.

“Well done, little brother! You beat me … finally. Don’t get used to it, it’ll never happen again.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you know he was Densus’ son before you challenged me?” Gabriel … _laughed?_ Was he laughing now? Yes, he was _pleased_ with his brother. It was more than that … he was _proud_.

“I did not.” Raphael admitted as he chuckled. “Pretty good, right?”

“Well played. That worked out in your favor, didn’t it? Let’s hurry.” Coming up behind their third brother, Gabriel slapped Michael on the back as well and Michael turned. “Are you coming? It’s not too late for us to join the tournament. Let’s take the long way.”

Michael turned. “Aren’t you tired of the tournament?”

“Why would I be tired? It’s great.” Gabriel laughed.

“Because you always win. It really isn’t fair for _anyone else_.” Raphael explained the obvious to his hubris-filled brother.

“Bah! Maybe this time Michael will actually beat me?  Maybe I will _actually_ have a challenge!!!” Gabriel laughed at the absurdity of his own statement as Michael shook his head. 

Quintus _knew_ his mouth fell agape when Gabriel sprung his hawk-like wings and took to flight. He _knew_ his face fell with absolute shock as Michael’s eagle-like wings spread next and the Governor was following his brother into the sky. As he shifted his eyes from the two beings high in the sky, he caught Raphael staring directly at him, with a wide and pleased smile. Quintus knew why the angel was pleased. It was quite obvious. He could tell that Quintus was **_finally impressed_** with something.

Raphael’s wings, reminiscent of the shape and colours of a Great Horned Owl, spread slowly and widely, allowing Quintus to see fully before the angel caught the wind beneath them and was off to catch up to his brothers already very distant in the sky, leaving Quintus to watch dumbfounded from below.

“They are a lot to take in, aren’t they?” She asked, following his stare into the sky and her voice rocked him back to reality. He turned sharply to Hathų, his eyes stern and menacing and she bit back her pleased smile.

**_“We need to talk.”_ **

However serious he made himself, the voice that he heard from behind him shook him. He recognized it from hours earlier and a chill ran down his spine at the thought of it’s owner.

“Quintus?” He froze as he closed his eyes momentarily, only opening them as he felt Hathų touching his arm gently. Commanding himself to turn, he stared down at the small blonde woman with the rich blue eyes. The serious man, of course, stood directly behind her.

His voice was almost timid as he felt like a child again. “ _Hello Honoria_.”


	11. 2.2 - Paradise

  

Quintus gawked for what seemed like an _eternity_. He pushed himself to speak, but nothing came forth as he stared into her rich blue eyes. While she may not have been what some _might_ call beautiful, he found her so _nonetheless_. Not only that, her aura was actually breathtaking and her smile was absolutely delightful as well as her curiously curled hair.

He wondered suddenly if _he would have had_ curly hair as well, but as his eyes floated up to the grumpy man who stood behind her, he noted that Sempronius’ hair was quite straight. He felt he likely would have taken after _him_ instead. _It was an odd thing to ponder such things_ and suddenly Quintus felt a bit lightheaded.

“Sempronius.” He stated firmly, giving the displeased man a passing greeting as Honoria spoke finally.

“It is … _a pleasure_ to meet you, Quintus.” She started to bring her hand up, to reach for his arm, but she pulled it back nervously, biting her thumbnail as she was unsure of what to do with herself. He was relieved to not be the only one that was lost in a confused emotional knot right now.

“And you as well.” _Oh gods. Is that it?_ What should he say?!? Struggling for words, _he realized he never_ struggled with words and this only served to fuel his growing nerves. He opened his mouth and he might have spoken again before a slender and _beautiful_ woman caught his glance. She was standing off to the side, quite a ways away and staring intently directly at him, patiently waiting for her turn with them … _with … him?_ He was sure he did not recognize her. She was remarkably striking and he would have recalled such a woman. Young and slender with flowing auburn hair and blue eyes. Wait, those eyes. It was the eyes that he remembered first.

_Oh … gods … He did_ recognize her, suddenly, forcefully, and heart breakingly. He did not wish to be rude to _Honoria_ and he would later regret his zeal, but he sidestepped the Densus pair as he rushed to the woman and she smiled deeply, opening her arms for him to embrace her fully. And he did … _so very fully._

Touching his forehead against hers, he gasp as a gentle laugh escaped him. They gripped each other with closed eyes for a moment before he uttered a single word. _“Mother.”_

“Oh Quintus.” Her voice was _so much younger_ than he remembered. “Quintus.” She repeated as she pulled back from the forehead touch, to look at him fully and then embrace him again. “I have been waiting for you _for so very long_ , my son.”

There was so much he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind as he found himself smiling slightly. How many years had he hated himself for what he had been forced to do for her? How many years had he damned himself? And now … she stood before him, so young and vibrant and … _happy_.

“You are here.” He stated. “You came.”

“I …” She stuttered, “I came earlier. But you did not recognize me.”

“I am _so sorry_.” He shook his head in shame. Had she been in the crowd? Was he distracted? Likely … for obvious reasons also.

“No. No. I am quite different now than I was when last you saw me.” She waved off responsibility. “Besides, you have been _quite busy_ , haven’t you?” He nodded and there was a delicate moment of silence when he heard the native woman clear her throat from behind.

He turned back suddenly to see her gently nudging her head towards the Densus couple, who was still simply standing there, watching the reunion unfold before them.

“Oh!” He chirped as he realized he was being rude and … _quite a fool_. “Come.” He pulled Ancharia to them and introduced her in a flurry. It was so unlike him and he would later regret his words as they seemed to flow without thought from his mouth. “This is my _mother_.” He had not yet realized his folly.

“ ** _Ancharia_**.” She chimed with a flattered grin as she thrust a hand towards Honoria and he continued to the introduction.

“This is _Honoria …_ my … “ He blinked and Hathų’s eyes grew wide as he spied her head shake back and forth out of his peripheral vision. Quintus realized his slight when he finished introducing her. “ _Mother_.”

“Oh.” Ancharia’s own shock matched Hathų’s, but she continued to shake Honoria hand nevertheless as the blonde haired woman seemed to be at a loss for word immediately. _Quintus understood exactly how she felt._

 _Damnation_.

“And Se–” He began and Sempronius cut him off, giving Ancharia a short nod and a single word.

“Sempronius.”

“Sempronius?” Ancharia blinked deviously. “Sempronius … _Densus_?”

“Yes.” Quintus nodded as he watched Ancharia smile slyly to Sempronius and Honoria’s eyebrows furrowed into a significant knot. _Was Ancharia … Oh no. Yes. She was._ It was quite obvious she found Sempronius … _favorable_ and she was not shy to express that openly … in front of _his wife_ even.

 _Oh gods. This was a continuing disaster_.

He panicked slightly as all eyes fell on him and Hathų read the situation clearly, coming to his aid swiftly. “I am so sorry to interrupt this … _reunion_.” She claimed _all focus_ as Sempronius and Ancharia, upon viewing her, bowed their heads significantly in respect of her. Quintus was surprised when Sempronius actually spoke on his own.

“It is never a problem, prophet.” He assured her and she smiled greedily.

“I must take Quintus to get oriented. If you would not mind, I will bring him back to _each of you_ later.”

“Of course.” Sempronius spoke again as he began to tug Honoria away though she seemed hesitant to leave him. “We will not keep you any longer. We apologize.”

“No … I … I am sorry.” Quintus finally reached out to touch her arm. The contact was brief but she smiled softly to him, returning the gesture as she placed her hand on his. Her skin was warm and he found her fragrant. It was _lavender_.

“It is alright, Quintus.” She said. “You have things that need to be done. You will come and find us later, yes?” She asked and he detected a hint of worry in her voice. _Did she think he would not?_

“Yes. I will.” He promised and watched silently as they walked away down the steps, and seemed to fade away as they glided across the sidewalk.

“I will find you later as well.” Ancharia smiled, giving him one last quick hug before she too walked down the steps and vanished. Staring for a quiet moment, he waited for his heart rate to ease before he turned back to Hathų.

Her face was riddled with surprise yet she seemed overly delighted. As she spoke, her arms and shoulders were very animated. “WOW! Well … _That_ was **_very_** _awkward!_ ” The smile was immensely goofy and Quintus brought his right hand to his forehead showing frustration over what had just occurred.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel chucked the trophy away as he clasp a hand on Michael’s back, chortling to his defeated brother. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do better next time.”

He scuttled off across the dirty ground of the arena to relieve himself of the borrowed weaponry and Raphael wandered over slowly from the stands. “I don’t know why you continue to bother. I gave up years ago.”

“I do it to humor him mostly.” Michael shrugged. “Maybe even because …”

“It’s something to do?” Raphael offered. “Does it help ease your conscience?”

“It helps distract it at the very least.” Michael nodded with a smile. It felt _damn good_ to get that helmet off finally. It was oppressively stifling.

“I am glad that you seem to be in better spirits.” Raphael said as shook his head, watching as Gabriel pushed some poor small cherubim out of the way gruffly and without warning. “The outcome of the trial has _eased_ your mind then? Ozryel will remain with us.”

Michael looked up to his brother’s overly pleasant face as it burned with blue light. Raphael had _always_ been a bit of a mystery to Michael. The sparks had started several thousand years ago, and he never did much to explain them, however Michael could _feel_ what it was. When Ozryel had fallen, the Traveller had put down his sword and become a pacifist, much to Gabriel’s dismay.

He withdrew almost completely, always falling back to the Hall of the Scholars to spend years and years lost in the books within. All bouts of physical and psychic exertion gone, his power began to build up within his shell and the sparking was a sign of his immense reserves of the resource boiling over. He was, quite simply, overflowing with divinity. It made Michael nervous, to say the least. He trusted Raphael, but on some level, he knew he could trust _no one_.

Right now, it lit across Raphael’s face as he felt his little brother scrape the very outside of his mind, tasting the emotions that were present on the very outskirts of it. “Indeed.”

“Now that Ozryel is safe from a similar judgement, I would like to discuss something important next.” Raphael seemed _nervous_ and Gabriel, feeling his brother’s change of mood, returned immediately to listen to the conversation that was ensuing.

“What’s going on?” He asked as he stroked his beard.

“I would like to suggest …” Raphael paused for a moment, locking eyes with Michael. “That Ozryel be reconnected.”

Gabriel bellowed in laughter as he thought it a hilarious joke, but he regarded both of his brothers, their eyes locked into an intense stare.

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Michael stated.

“Why not?” Raphael pushed.

“I don’t think she’s well.” Michael refused.

“Ozryel is as well as she will ever be.” Raphael argued calmly. “She is no longer tainted. The worms are _gone_. Lilith’s curse has been lifted. And, Ozryel never had neph–”

“No one has ever been … un-felled.” Michael shook his head.

“I do not understand why?” Raphael seemed to be getting annoyed. His logic was sound, but Michael worried about the consequences of such an action.

“Yeah, I’m with Mike on this one, little bro. I don’t think it’s a good idea. You saw her.” He spun his finger around in a circle in front of his ear. “She’s a bit coo coo now.”

Raphael flashed Gabriel an uncharacteristic sneer as his voice actually raised in tone. “All the more reason to reconnect her. We can _help her_ if she is a part of us aga–”

“I don’t think it’s wise.” Michael said again. There were so very many worries he had with Raphael’s ask. Ozryel would have _no reason_ to keep his secret anylonger if she was freed. He had already **_irrevocably_** proclaimed Quintus’ innocence. Which led him to fear the next concern.

If Ozryel was connected, then Raphael would then _know_ that Quintus was now available through the Nexus and he might be able to take what he wished from his mind. He wasn’t sure if Quintus was strong enough to resist his little brother, especially if Raphael was _enlightened_ on his connection.

“I would think that you would want this, Michael.” Raphael’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Do you _not want_ **_Ozryel_** back?! Is this not what you have been saddened over?!”

“Raphael.” Gabriel tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but Raphael slapped it away in frustration. This type of physicality was unlike the violet one. None of them had seen him in such a state for thousands of years.

“No. I want to know why. **_Why do you fear her so much now?_** This makes no sense.” Raphael spat.

“I can tell you are frustrated Raphael but, I don’t think it’s wise … _YET._ ” Maybe if he dangled some amount of hope. “I think we should allow her more time to … come to terms with her reformation first.”

Seeming to become a bit more rational as he closed his eyes, Raphael breathed heavily as blue swam across his face. He nodded as he opened his eyes, “How long?”

“She seems to get better by the day, but I won’t promise a timeline.” As he lied, Michael was glad he was no longer seated on that damn chair of truth. “I make no promises either way, Raphael. I won’t risk _everyone_ in such a … reckless way. We will readdress this in the future when she is more … _together_.”

“Very well.” Raphael accepted the offered compromise but also made Michael a promise. “I will bring this up again. Do not think I will forget it.”

“I’m not sure why we’re even talking about this right now. We have more important things to deal with first.” Gabriel shrugged.

“What things?” Michael asked as he raised an eyebrow to his large brother. _What the hell is he talking about now?_

“This has all been one massive distraction. There is a **_real_** _nephil on Earth_ that we need to worry about now. Everyone felt the spark months ago.”

Raphael found _this discussion_ distasteful. The violet eyed angel spoke, “Excuse me. I will let you handle things.” Like Michael, he found the act of _destroying_ things unsettling, especially something so very young. The assumption here was that it must be a child, perhaps four or five, but Michael knew this wasn’t the case.

“Ozryel’s pieces are no longer our agent there, so either _one of us_ or the Bene Elohim will need to return to Earth to _extinguish it_. I humbly volunteer.” Gabriel smiled.

 

* * *

 

She showed him many, _many_ things and he had remained silent for _all of it_. Raphael had warned her of his _apparent_ apathy towards Heaven, but she blew off the warning because she felt like _she knew him_ , after all. She had seen him many times as she watched him interact _with Dawn_ through Dawn’s eyes, but apparently this was not like interacting with him directly. He was an entirely different person to everyone else.

With the exception of how she witnessed him react to Ancharia earlier, she found him exceedingly cold, devoid of all emotion and distant towards _her_ as well as _everyone else_ they met along the way. He looked back at his two shadows regularly, to gauge their distance from them as she could _see_ the questions that itched from the inside of his mind. These were the only moments that she thought him capable of some emotion, and that emotion _could_ have been worry.

If the Bene Elohim that had been assigned to him were some of the more _incompetent ones_ , she might have attempted to play some tricky game to lose them for a bit, regardless of Michael’s _command_ for her to not to share anything with Quintus. She felt he deserved questions, especially given his _sacrifice_.

She replayed her conversation with Michael, as they walked silently through the sublevel of Heaven.

 

> He had asked her to the side …
> 
> “It has been some time since I have seen you, _Prophet_. How have you been?” He asked first. _Some time_ indeed, as he had not been back since she had told him to “get out” months earlier. She regretted this now as she missed him constantly.
> 
> “I am well. You?”
> 
> “Good. Good.” He was unable to hide his nervousness. “It’s good to see you again.”
> 
> “And you.” She had to resist reaching out to touch him. Such a public display was not allowed.
> 
> “This task that Raphael as requested of you–” He began and she _knew_ he was about to ask her to decline. He did not trust her around Quintus … or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, it would create a situation that he could not readily control and her _Governor_ hated being out of _control_.
> 
> “This is my duty.” She stated plainly and he sighed, knowing already that there would be no changing her mind.
> 
> “Share nothing with him.” He commanded. “I’ve told him nothing and he’ll know nothing else. This is for _everyone’s_ sake. Ours, hers, _and_ his.”
> 
> Hathų nodded. She would have turned to return to Raphael and Quintus, but her brows furrowed as she desperately wished to know herself. “How is she?”
> 
> “You don’t know?” Michael seemed confused at first. “You still haven’t seen her?”
> 
> “She _refuses_ me still.” Hathų was ashamed and sad.
> 
> “She’s …” Michael trailed off as he sighed again, staring at his staff as he remembered his last visit to her. “ ** _Broken_**.”
> 
> “You spoke of rules?” She asked next and then pressed with a smile. “Or, did you just wish to speak to me … _alone_?” She would have winked if they had been alone.
> 
> “Both.” She could see him smile from under the corner of his helmet. “There is only one rule. There will be _No Visits_ for him. Is this understood? Keep him from the Center.”
> 
> “Ok.” She nodded.
> 
> “The guards have already been informed. Do you understand why?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> She wished to apologize to him so very much. To tell him that she missed him, but neither said another word to the other and they parted ways again without even a single glance. This is how it had always been when others were around.

Now, as they walked to the great elevator, she stared back at the two shadows that had been assigned to Quintus. Michael had hand picked them, of course, as they were the _best_ of his elite guard, though one would not realize it by simply looking at them. Both were known for being clever, fiery, and _pitiless_.

 _Bene Puriel_ was an absolutely stunning beauty of incredible stature and skill. Slender though muscular, her shoulders were wide, yet she was still extremely feminine. She was _perfect_ in every sense of the word, and because of this, Hathų had always found her particularly boring and generic to look at. Perpetually appearing as if she was in her late twenties, her height matched Quintus’. Her hair was thick, black, and straight, always pulled into a tight ponytail and her skin was a metallic copper. She rarely smiled and her hand _never_ left her sword hilt.

For all intents and purposes, _Bene Dukiel_ was very nearly her opposite. He was a portly, short man, no taller than Hathų herself. His age, though indeterminant, seemed to shift between 40 and 60 years old. Salt and pepper ran through the large beard on his face as well as the messy mop on his head. His skin was a dull grey and he usually paid no attention to the sword on his hilt, instead opting to pick his nose regularly and examine the find, smiling often as he did before he flicked it on the ground.

As with _all_ Bene Elohim, they each had the yellow eyes of a hawk. This always made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, as they watched and tweaked their heads like birds of prey.

“How often do you _receive_ prophecy?” He _finally_ spoke and she understood his underlying question. He was fishing.

“The dead do not.” She stated. “It comes through dream and the dead no longer dream. I am _relieved_ of that duty here so that I can enjoy paradise like all others.”

Never breaking his stride nor shifting his gaze from across the horizon, she could tell his questions were very _deliberate_ and planned. “So, one cannot _dream_ at all here?” This would be a disappointment to him and she knew why.

“No. The dream is only a burden for living man.”

“Strange you describe it so. I have never found dreaming to be … _burdensome_.” A small grin danced across his face, but it was fleeting and his stern face replaced it immediately. “So, prophet, _you really cannot venture in the dream realm anymore_?” He pressed and she felt herself flush. He knew he’d _seen_ her in _his dream_ , but she was sure he had the concept of it backwards. It was not that she was in _his dream_ , it’s that they were both in Dawn’s.

“I do not.” She reiterated, putting inflection on her words so that he might stop pressing, but she knew this was unlikely.

“I find that … _interesting_.” He softly implied he knew she was lying to him. For the first time since she’d first seen him through her descendant’s eyes, she now realized why Michael was so often frustrated with him. He was quite tenacious. Hoping to sway the subject, they came to the great elevator, a staggering cylinder made entirely out of glass and silver that shot into the heavens above, with no visible end. She began to explain to him the different levels of Heaven.

“I am already aware of them.” He stated simply, clasping his hands behind him as she stepped into the elevator first and he did not follow. “You would not like to see them?” She prodded, peeking out of its doors. “Man is not normally allowed beyond _this_ level. It is quite an honor actually. It would be rude to refuse.” She scrunched her nose to him.

Annoyance oozed from her voice and Quintus sighed, conceding to her wishes as he entered the compartment and his shadows trailed behind him silently.

“We are in the sub level now. This is where _most people_ reside.” She explained, touching the all too modern keypad as they started to move up. She knew she was not explaining anything particularly _new_ , but most who came nowadays had no idea of the [Seven Heavens](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Heavens). Quintus, unfortunately, was not _most people_. He was old enough to have already heard of them all. “Next, we will go to the first level.”

“Yes.” He responded. “Where Adam and Eve reside, yes?”

“Yes! Very good! Would you like to meet them?” She smiled, eager to please with her job as a tour guide.

“I do not.” He stared out of the glass, looking down for a while before he peered out the other side of the compartment, seeming to take note of the structure itself, rather than the scenery outside. She watched as he stared at the keypad, the cables above, the door. No doubt he was assessing it all for integrity or … _weaknesses_? He was a curious being, indeed. Even in heaven, he was unable to fully relax.

“If there is no _where_ , then why must we take an elevator to _somewhere_?” He questioned simply, turning back to her as he re-clasp his hands behind him. She found his gaze intense as she looked away.

“No _where_?” What the hell was he talking about? It took a moment for her to finally understand what he meant. “Oooh. No. Manipulation on _that_ level can only be done by a select few.”

Finding her statement interesting, he cocked his head to the right and she found his stare unnerving again. This was not how he looked at Dawn, she _knew_. “A _select few?_ Can you clarify?”

“Only the _First_.” She squeaked as she cleared her throat.

“Ah. The Archangels.” He qualified and she put her finger up to correct him.

“No. Not exactly. Only the _First_. The _Second_ Brood does not posses _that_ ability.”

“These guards returned me to my cell earlier using that ability?” He prodded as he ignored the _watchers_ entirely.

“It was the Traveller who helped them … well … _travel._ ”

It seemed like he was done for now and as they finally came to a stop, there were no more questions as they exited and walked for a small time around the first level. He seemed to be paying more attention to his own hand now that anything around him, waving it back and forth, repeatedly.

After a few perplexing minutes of this, she could take it no longer. “Is this _boring_ you, Quintus?” She giggled, not actually meaning what she asked, but just hoping to imply his rudeness.

“Indeed. It is.” His statement was so … _blunt_ and Hathų felt herself blush terribly.

“Oh.” She fiddled with her fingers as he went back to staring at his own hand while they walked, waving it back and forth strangely. “Shall we just go to the next level then?” She squeaked again.

“Indeed.”

They entered the elevator again and she explained further. “The Second Level is very beautiful. It is where the prophets are supposed to reside, but most of us prefer to be down below with our loved ones.”

As they stepped out, Quintus only took a few steps and looked around. “It is very gold.” He observed. After they walked for a few moments, she noticed that he went back to waving his hand back and forth as he stared down at his open palm.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” It wasn’t like her to get frustrated so easily and Quintus looked up, a bit flustered.

“ _Nothing_.” He re-clasp his hands back behind him as he stared at her and she placed her fists on her hips as she shook her head. “Please continue.” He gave a fake grin as he waited for her to start walking again.

They strolled for several more minutes before Hathų gave up and took them back, unable to ignite any amount of curiosity within the dhampir who was back to shaking his hand back and forth _yet again_ as he bit his lower lip.

“The Fourth Level is … “ She started to say once they were back in the elevator, heading up again, but just dropped the entire thing. What was the point right now? She turned around and stared out of the glass as she pouted solemnly in isolation.

"You may continue if you wish.” He told her. “I assure you I am paying attention.”

But Hathų did not continue, she just ignored him and as they stepped out onto the fourth level, and he seemed to be taken aback by the flying creatures that abounded everywhere suddenly. “The Fourth Level is what again?” He prodded, seemingly done with whatever the hell he had been doing with his hand.

“Do you ask to humor me, _Mr. Sertorius_?” She was no longer pleased with him nor with this task.

“Densus.” He corrected firmly. “And no. I ask because I wish to know. This seems more than just [Enoch](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enoch_%28ancestor_of_Noah%29) and the[ Angel of Tears](https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Angel_of_Tears&action=edit&redlink=1).” This was how _man_ understood the fourth level.

“Yes, it is. This is where the lower levels of divine beings reside.”

“Which levels?” He clasp his hands in front of him this time while he watched her intently. “Please.”

Squinting at him for a moment while she wondered what his game was, she finally spoke, “The Eshim, Cherubim, and Bene Elohim reside here.”

“Eshim?” He asked as they began their way back to the elevator. “Djinn.” She nodded and he turned to face her fully, his posture perfectly erect as he spoke. “I believe I met _a Djinn_ once. I can’t seem to remember his name now though …” He watched her expression carefully as her eyes grew wide.

“Really?” She cleared her throat. “There are not many left on Earth. You are a lucky man then.”

“Not many? How many, would you, say are _left_ on Earth?” He pressed as she continued to walk towards the elevator in front of him.

“Not many at all. Just a few here and there, left as _safeguards_. And some others that disappeared after the deluge. No one knows where they are. They remain hidden, afraid to return home.” She was speaking for some time and as she reached the elevator, she leaned forward and pressed the button for it to open. The doors began their lingering opening as she turned to look at him.

She had expected him to be very close behind her, but she noticed he was quite a distance from her, completely stopped with his shadows also halted five or so feet _behind_ him. She cocked her head to the left as the doors opened entirely behind her.

She definitely saw the grin, but she wasn’t sure she even saw him move before she found herself within the elevator, his grip tight on her bicep as he pushed her back against the glass. She didn’t even see him push the next level button, but the doors were shutting already and the Bene Elohim were _barely_ too late as Puriel growled loudly. They were heading up _… alone._

His eyes were wide as he stared down to her menacingly. His nose furrowed as he sneered an unconvincing apology. “Forgive my directness, **_Prophet_** , but I wish to speak candidly.”

Hathų gulped.

_Ah crap._

_She was going to be in so much trouble._

 

* * *

  


Quintus was tired of being out of control. He was tired of waiting for someone to decide things for him. He was tired of being chained and caged. He was _tired_ of being manipulated. And most of all, he was _tired_ of being kept in the dark.

When they first approached the elevator, he cringed. This was just going to be more showboating, just as Raphael had done. He was tired of being forced to be _impressed_ with Heaven. They wanted to sway him into compliance by showing him amazing beauty and perfection. Living the life that he had, Quintus had no use for these things and humanity’s obsession with them had only made _that life_ a terrible experience.

He saw her hit the button and watched the door open the first time as she stepped through. However, when he delayed in following her, it had been because an idea flushed across his mind and he mulled it over momentarily.

Raphael’s words from earlier echoed from his memory:

“You have not lost what makes you special … Here, it has to come only from _your mind_.”

Next he remembered what Raphael had been able to do to him and thus his plan was set into motion. As he entered the elevator the first time, he watched her push the button and then he counted, meticulously.

It was exactly three seconds from the button press to the full closure of the doors. He had walked around the elevator the first time, examining if there were any other entrances, just in case these guards _could fly_. There were none.

He had already started counting again when she pressed the button for the next floor, as soon as the door shut, he pressed her about _space_ manipulation next. She offered him exactly what he wished to know with realizing it. The guards were _without_ this ability. Thus, they would _not_ be able to _pop_ into the elevator.

Three hundred and thirteen seconds until the first floor. Another three seconds for the doors to open fully and they were on the first level. Next, he needed to remember how to move quickly. The implication of Raphael’s words were clear. The power had _always_ resided in his soul, he had merely assumed it was his body that had given him his abilities. He’d always been able to move fast, thus that should still be with him.

Staring down at the palm of his hand, he waved it quickly, back and forth. He had to be careful, as he was unsure what _other_ abilities these _guards_ possessed. They might be able to see him testing his speed. He kept his back to them the entire time he did this and they seemed to be clueless though he was annoying Hathų quite a bit. The latter, he was enjoying actually.

Back at the elevator again, another three seconds exactly when she pushed the button for the doors to open, then another three seconds exactly once she pushed the button within for the doors to shut completely. Then, exactly three hundred and thirteen seconds to the next floor.

Very consistent, each and every time. _Like Clockwork_. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Heaven in all of its _glorious perfection_. It was on the second level that he felt himself moving a bit faster and once he verified the timing again on the way to the third level, he was even more confident. Once on the third, he had it and his hand was moving as fast as he had ever moved on _Earth_.

His patience urged him to wait one more level, to verify the timing once more time. He used this time to create some distance from his guards to see how they would react. They were _very_ good at keeping step with him. He would need to create a good amount of distance between him and the prophet without them suspecting.

Attempting to outrun them was a risk, as he had no way of knowing their speed, but he resolved to at the very least, test it. If they could catch up to him, then he would need to revise his plan for the next time. If not, then he had a distinct advantage.

He struck up a conversation and the prophet was long winded in her response. _Perfect_. He delayed, creating at least twenty feet of space between the two of them as he pretended to look out across the horizon as she walked.

It was a beautiful thing when it happened. He felt a rush of control surge through his body and once he had pushed her up against the glass wall and the elevator was already moving, he sneered down to her surprised face. “Forgive my directness, **_Prophet_** , but I wish to speak candidly.”


	12. 2.3 - Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the final _‘boring’_ and overly _**ANGSTY**_ piece until the rest of the story will actually start to get rolling. I wanted to put this part and the next part together, but it was waaaay too long. So, expect a Part 10 with a _hell of an ending_ before we pop back over to what is happening on Earth right now with our favorite heroine.

“What are you doing?!” She cried as she attempted to pull herself free of his grasp, but he held her back firmly against the glass. He was obviously stronger than her and he grinned as he was quickly regaining his power _and_ confidence.

“Is it not obvious, **_prophet_**?” He purred to her, using the rattle to intimidate but she was above such obvious ploys it seemed. “I wish to speak privately.”

She pulled furiously and he smirked even wider as there was no escaping him _now_. This exact moment reminded him of the factory, when he had pinned _Dawn_ in a similar manner. Hathų seemed to be just _as defiant_. “Stupid boy! You can’t _hurt_ me. Go ahead and try. There is no pain here!” She furrowed her nose at him. “I am not afraid of you.”

“Boy? I am sure I am quite a bit older than you and I have made no threats to hurt you.” He released her, stepping back as she lunged forward, nearly falling before she caught herself.

As she spun around, she saw him standing completely straight, with his hands clasp in front again, leaning back against the glass pleasantly. His face was no longer devoid of emotion, as she could read the smugness written across it.

“You were planning this?!” She realized as his right eyebrow raised slightly. “You were manipulating me!” She coughed insultingly.

“It does not feel good, does it?” His voice was ice cold but the smirk still remained across his face.

“What doesn’t?!” She spat the question.

“Being manipulated for someone else’s gain.” He sneered as his smirk faded away.

The words seemed to rock her out of her angry fit and she stepped back as shame replaced it. She smoothed the hair from her face and fixed her clothing as she spoke calmly. “I do not know what you mean.”

“That is your stance then? You are claiming you were not part of the conspiracy to convince me to _kill myself_?” His voice was frighteningly cold as he delivered his sentence.

“Conspiracy?” She choked, feigning innocence. “ _Conspiracy_? You are … _crazy_ , Quintus. I have no idea–” This woman was a _terrible_ liar and he shook his head at her.

“You expect me to believe that the _Black King_ acted entirely alone?” He asked as he tilted his head inquisitively to the right. “After the way he reacted to her?”

“We should not speak of these things here.” She whispered now. He was getting tired of _this_ excuse, as he found it very convenient to shoot down _any_ and _all_ of his questions. “You must understand … there _was no other choice_ , Quintus.”

His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth, grinning as her words revealed she _did in fact_ know of the manipulation. “And, _princess_ , _you must_ understand that I have no way of accepting _that excuse_ unless I know every variable that _was_ in play.”

He had begun to pick up tells from her now as she pinched her ear lob and began to rub it in her nervousness. “I am _not_ a … _princess_.” She argued against his insulting title.

“Trust me. You are. I have known _many_ princesses. People treat you as if you are royalty here, do they not? Your attitude and obvious _self-importance_ tell me you were likely _revered_ among your people from birth. Did they know of your power when you alive? Did they worship you as such?”

She seemed to laugh at first, then her face fell suddenly and then she pouted finally as a tiny lie squeaked passed her lips. “No.” _Yes_. She was a princess indeed.

“You have _always_ gotten what you have wanted, haven’t you, Hathų?” He sneered to her and her discomfort increased as she crossed her arms across her chest, getting ready to mount a heated counter argument.

“No. _I have not._ There have been _things_ … ” She couldn’t meet his gaze and he laughed loudly while he turned his back to her. _Indeed_. She always got her way. He could _see_ it in how she carried herself. “You are one to speak. What was it? _You usually just ** _take_**_ _what you want?_ You are a hypocrite.”

“Do not use words that I spoke _in private_. Those were not for **_you_** , spoiled one.” He spun as she had hit a nerve, repeating words from the conversation that he had shared with his _Poet_ in their dream … _alone_. His face scrunched into intense fury as he spoke sternly. “If I always got what I wanted, **_prophet_** , then I would not be here with you now … Stuck in **_this_** place.”

Both stood in complete silence as the contraption continued to amble upwards and Quintus knew he only started out with a little over five minutes of privacy. Their banter had already cut into that time significantly. Sighing as he shelved his anger and regained his calmness.

“I am making a _leap of faith_ with _you_ as I am making the _assumption_ that you are the _only_ other person that actually _cares_ for her and I have been told there is continued danger.”

“Who told you this?” She asked and when he refused to answer, she dismissed the claim. “That is _not new_. She has _always_ been in danger. From the very _moment_ of her birth.”

“Why is she special _to you_?” He pressed. “Why do you even care? Or do you even care at all? Is my assumption wrong?”

“I have saved her more times than you!” Hathų retorted quickly before she blinked at the bluntness of his questions. “She–”

“How do you speak to her? Is it because she is–”

“ _Stop_. We should not be speaking of these things in the … _open_. There are–” She looked around suspiciously.

“Then do not delay and answer quickly!” He clench his fist and the sound of his leather gloves tightening echoed in the glass chamber.

“She …” Hathų stuttered. “Is _special_.”

“Of that, I am already aware.” He pushed her. Why was it so difficult for humans to just be _concise_? He felt like he was talking to Dutch all over again.

“No. You are not.”

“Explain.” His patience was running thin. “Quickly!”

“She is …” Hathų hesitated as her face grew worried while she considered the disclosure. “ _Like me._ ”

“Like you? She is … ” Quintus blinked as he considered. “She is _a prophet_?”

Hathų nodded simply and he turned away, absorbing what had been said. “Her dreams then … they are … _the future_?” They had shared many conversations their last day together and one of them had been about her dreams. _Oh gods._ She told him, that in her dream, she had … He had dismissed her.

“Perhaps. I do not know. She had lost the ability to see for years before … ” Hathų trailed off slowly and quietly.

Quintus looked down at the palm of his open hands. “Before I set her **_free_**.”

“Yes.” She spoke quickly now. “I was the last. She is the next.”

“Is this why _he_ spares her? He asked, desperate to understand _everything_ and Hathų looked surprised momentarily, but then slowly nodded. “Because of her gift?”

“There is nothing more cherished than the gift of divinity and … there has _never_ been a _prophet_ like _this_.” They were running out of time. Quintus could not dally further.

“How is she?” He pushed desperately and sadness rolled across her delicate little face.

“I …” Her expressive eyes filled with tears. “I do not know.”

“ _DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH ME!_ ” He stepped forward as his frustration overflowed out of him as he clenched his fists again. “ ** _Tell me how she is._** ” Not knowing anything was torture and he bit back his own tears. Did _she_ not know what she was doing to him?!

“Quintus. I do _not_ know.”

“You lie!” He wished she was lying and he pushed her back firmly against the glass again, gripping her biceps tightly. “ _STOP LYING TO ME!_ ”

“ ** _I do not know!_** ” She screamed as the tears streamed down her face. “She _refuses_ me.” Her head shook as her gaze fell to the ground. “She blames me.”

“What do you mean _she refuses you_?” He grasped her even tighter and his desperation replaced his anger as he did something he never did next. He begged. “ ** _Please_**. **I need to know … Just tell me how she is. Please.** ”

“I have not seen her since … _that day_.” She shook her head again and again. “The day you died. She blames me.”

“Blames you for what?!” He asked. “What did you do?!”

“For your death.” Her tears flowed freely. “I know you do not believe me, but there was _no other choice_.”

“You really know _nothing_?” He asked, releasing her as he stumbled back, his back connecting with the glass behind him as his arms hung lowly at his sides, his shoulders slumped with defeat. His eyes became vacant as he stared at nothing in particular on the ground before her.

“I only know that …” Hathų seemed to hesitate to tell him something and he locked eyes with her, his need was so painfully obvious as he waited. “I have only been told she is _broken_.”

“Broken? In what way? _Who has told you this?_ ” He asked quietly, his voice cracked as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Him? _Was it him?_ ”

“You are wrong. We are not the only _two_ that care. He cares for her as well, Quintus.” He didn’t think she was lying but Quintus _knew_ better, didn’t he?

> _So I take off my face_
> 
> _‘Cause it reminds me how it all went wrong_
> 
> _And I pull out my tongue_
> 
> _'Cause it reminds me how it all went wrong_
> 
> _And I cough up my lungs_
> 
> _'Cause they remind me how it all went wrong_
> 
> _But I leave in my heart_
> 
> _'Cause I don’t want to stay in the dark_

“No. He does _not_. He told me to let her _die_.” He spat. _This was unacceptable_.

Wiping the tears from her cheek, she fought the new ones that threatened to spring forth to run down her dark skin. “And if you had done as he instructed … “ Her voice trembled significantly. “If you had _not unbound_ her … she would be **here** with you … with **__us__** … now.”

Quintus felt his mouth drop agape as the nausea within the pit of his stomach overwhelmed him. “No …”

“She would be here _with us_.” _Oh gods … no._ “She would have already been here, waiting _for you_. But now …” Quintus turned and stared out of the windows as he remembered what he had done to her that day. _No_. He had … saved her. Right? Michael had screamed at him to let her die and Quintus would not. _He could not._

What Hathų did next was something that only the _Master_ had accomplished _once before_ and she did it with seven simple words. “_Now she will **never** be welcomed here … _” She broke Quintus’ heart with one, simple and tortuous sentence and he closed his eyes _so very slowly_ as the gravity of her statement stuck him.

He might have said something more. He might have tried to deny this statement. He might have demanded to know why, but as the chamber came to its destination, the doors opened on the second level and the Governor stepped forward, grabbing him by the neck gruffly as he pulled him out of the elevator as if he was simply a _dog_.

He gave no resistance as her statement was still sinking into his soul and Michael sneered as he shoved him to the ground. “ _Less than an hour?! Less than an hour for you to pull something like this?!? I should have known, you little sh–”_

He was actually surprised when Hathų stepped forward immediately, waving her hands to the angel. “No. _No._ **__No__**. This was _my fault._ I pushed the button, I did not realize that–”

Quintus rolled over, sitting on the ground fully as he looked up to the silver clad archangel. The two Bene Elohim guards stood silently behind Michael, looks of shock across their strange faces. It seemed the Governor had taken them _the short way_ here. Quintus fully expected whatever punishment would come next and he gave no arguments. He also realized he gave absolutely _no fucks_ either.

“You expect me to believe _this was an accident?!_ ” Michael spoke down to her and she looked shocked at the accusation.

“It was a mistake. Do you think I would lie? Do you call me a liar??” She ruffled her nose to the Governor and he stuttered, but offered no further argument. This was the first time Quintus had seen Michael at a loss for words as it was obvious the prophet seemed to have _considerable_ sway over him. “No harm has been done.” She stated firmly. “It was a mistake.”

Michael turned back to him, pointing a finger to his face sternly. “I told you to mind your manners. If you can’t be _trusted_ , then you will be returned to spend eternity in _Ozryel’s_ company. Do you really wish to spend _eternity_ in a cage?”

Quintus offered _nothing_ in response, pulling his knees to his chest, he stared out across the ground unsure if he should attempt to stand again yet. Given the mood the angel was in, he might just shove him down again, but Michael huffed away, pulling his guardsman to the side.

Hathų approached him slowly as she offered him a hand to stand and he took it. He did not need the help, but it would have been rude to refuse it.

“It will be _alright_.” She assured him weakly as she placed a hand on his forearm.

_“No … it will not.”_

 

* * *

 

Michael chastised his guards and returned to Hathų one more time, pulling her away for a private conversation.

“What did you tell him?” He demanded.

“Nothing.” She lied. She knew she was a _terrible_ liar.

“Hathų.” He pressed. He knew better than that. _He knew her._

“I said nothing.” She lied again.

“Then what’s wrong with him?” Michael looked over to the quiet dhampir.

Quintus stood with his back to everyone, staring out across the vast and beautiful horizon. He’d said nothing further since Hathų helped him up and when he stepped away, she had let him go, accepting his need for solitude.

“You know what is wrong with him.” She stated plainly before she walked away, feeling the shame of their actions again. “He’s … **_broken_**.”

The rest of the tour through the levels was _uneventful_. She spoke and he listened. She walked and he followed. She pointed and he looked. She explained and he nodded.

“The fifth level is the residence of the Elohim, Malakim, and Seraphim.” She said and he listened.

They continued on to the sixth. “The home of the Orphanim, Erelim, and Hashmalim.”

The seventh level, she had always thought was the most beautiful thing in all of existence, but his eyes were vacant as he looked around it.

“The seventh level is the Hayyoth, the souls that have reached Enlightenment, The Place of Rebirth, _and_ The Gate.”

“Enlightenment for human souls?”  He asked somberly.

“ _All souls._  It is not _just_ man that can achieve this.”

“I wish to see this Gate.”  He stated and she led him down the path towards it.  The Gate itself stretched out around the entire level as a vast and entirely still ocean.  Though the interior of the level itself was _infinite_ in what it could contain, it was still constrained by this _ocean_.  She explained that it was the water itself that was the portal and while most people had a problem with the concept, he did not.

He nodded simply, “Indeed.  Like Lake Onondaga.”

“Yes.  That is the _only_ portal to Heaven currently open.”  She responded.  “When I was alive, that was _my home_.  It was where I was born.”

“There are other gates?”

“Oh yes.  But all other gates were closed when Heaven pulled out of Earth.”  She explained.

“Where were they?”  He wondered out loud.

“ _Everywhere_.”  She smiled.

As they approached the tall silver fence that surrounded the entire continent’s cliff, he looked up, but there seemed to be no end to it.  As they walked, he continued to ask her simple questions.  The stone pathway that followed along the perimeter of the perfect fence was littered with beings of all types, walking and ambling along peacefully.  She could see he took note of the guards conspicuously placed at regular intervals along the way, always within visible range of each other.  They were Bene Elohim.

They strolled for some time until they came to a bustling square riddled with tables and chairs.  There was a particularly elegant doorway that cut through the fence which led out to a simple beach and Quintus stopped for a moment, watching as an older woman seemed to walk up and out of the ocean, entirely dry as she rose out of the water.  She approached the opening in the fence and she walked through without any resistance.  A young man burst up from one of the tables and there was a warm embrace followed by tears.

“Is this where I came through?”  He questioned.

“Yes.”  She nodded.  “This is where _all souls_ come through.”

“I do not remember this place.”  He pointed out the obvious and she giggled.

“You came through here very quickly, Quintus.  We were all waiting.”

“You were here?”  He seemed confused and she giggled again, covering up her mouth.

“Oh yes.   _Many_ were here.  It was where Ozryel _reformed_.  You came through right after him, but, much to Gabriel’s dismay, he was not able to grab you in time.  It was like …”  She motioned like a rocket, slapping her hands together and shooting one off towards the distance.  “Swooooosh!  **_It was very impressive!!!_** ”

“He was waiting for me?”  Quintus finally grinned a bit.

“They were waiting for Ozryel.  But you are quite special.  You had already _shaped_ your own Heaven when he found you.  He was quite–”

“Displeased.”  He seemed to take some enjoyment in this revelation.  Staring out across the vast and endless ocean, he looked at the Bene Elohim guards that were stationed at either side of the doorway.  “What are the guards for?”  He asked.

“To keep anyone from returning.”  She knew he was fishing and she shook her head.  “There was a problem with Bene Elohim and Djinn defecting a long time ago and thus the fence was built and the guards put into place.”

He stared quietly for a moment.  “So, it is … bi-directional?”

 _Curious boy._  She _knew_ his curiosity could be a dangerous thing.  “Yes.  But without a Qliphoth, one just becomes a wandering spirit.”  She touched his arm, “And that is a type of _hell_ all of its own, Quintus.”

“Wandering spirit?”  He cocked his head to the right.  “You mean a _ghost_?”  Shaking his head, he showed his disbelief, “I have lived a _long_ time, princess.  I have never seen a _ghost_.”

“You are so certain you know everything still?”  She nodded, “Yes, there are ghosts.  Before the fence, before the guards, before the _withdrawal_ from Earth, it was actually a very common occurrence that people would return.  Thankfully, it is _quite rare_ now.”

“Thankfully?  What is it like?”  He pondered out loud and she shook her head again.  She knew what he was considering.  Might he be able to return to Earth as a spirit …

“It is considered a terrible purgatory, Quintus.  Lost souls have no direction and they’re incapable of interacting with the Earthly plane and its inhabitants.  They get lost and _mad_ , unable to find their way back.  They wander for eternity in confusion.”

“You said it is _rare_?  So … people have been able to get through?”  She was almost uncomfortable with the directness of his question.  Curious boy.

“No.”  She shook her head.  “When it has occurred, it was when they first come through the water.  There have been one or two spirits that retreat back into the water before they’ve fully come through the gate.  But, once you are _here_ , you are **_here_**.”

He asked no further questions and lastly, as they took a path from the gate and approached the Citadel, he asked more questions.  “I thought the Citadel was on the sub-level.”  It was a quiet statement and she could tell he did not _really_ care.

“The Citadel is the hub. _It exists on all levels._ All roads eventually lead to it.”

As they circled around it, she showed him the floors within it. She knew he’d seen a portion of this as this is where the cells and _Ozryel_ was retained.

Hathų spied a familiar face on the steps into the main hall and she attempted to divert her group, but it was already too late. Quintus had recognized him and she sighed heavily.

 _Ah crap_.

“I just don’t understand what you are talking about! Why can’t I talk to something with ANY AMOUNT of REAL POWER HERE?!”

“Dr. Goodweather?” Quintus asked, his voice relieved somewhat as he stepped forward to greet the bald man who was arguing with yet another _Bene Elohim_. She knew he had come _every single day_ since his arrival. The angels always complained about the _more_ annoying souls. “Ephraim?”

Ephraim whipped his head around and saw Quintus. “Quinlan?!” He smiled widely for just a split second before his face fell into a frown. “Wait.” He turned his attention back to the guard. “Wait. They let _him_ in Heaven and not my twelve year old boy?!? **_He is a MURDERER!_** ”

The Bene Elohim shifted uncomfortably as he spoke. “Mr. Goodweather, we’ve been over this many times–”

“Actually, it’s **_Doctor_**.” Ephraim barked at the poor angel and Hathų shook her head.

The angel sighed. “ ** _Doctor_** Goodweather. I am sorry. We have been over this. He has been judged already and his worth was found … _wanting_.”

“HE’S TWELVE. He’s only TWELVE years old!”

“In many cultures, that is adult. Also, he, knowingly and intentionally set off a nuclear device that murdered over a hundred thousand people. _I am sorry ** _ _Doctor__**_ _._   Age has _no bearing_ on _intention_.  The decision is _completely_ out of our hands. He will remain in _the pit_.”

Hathų brought her hands to her forehead as she knew this would _not_ deter the poor father. He was relentless and it was a _bit sad_ actually. Everyday, since he had come here and she knew it would be years before he would accept the situation as it was. She might have left it as it was, but she knew if she had been in his situation, she was certain she would have been just as … adamant. Or was the correct word _hopeful?_

Quintus stood patiently for a moment, waiting for the doctor’s attention again as he eyed the _very skinny_ , brown-haired woman who was standing next to Ephraim. She’d also come _everyday_ , always by his side and Hathų recognized her _immediately_.

“Hey Quinlan.” Smiling, she said as she noticed his stare.

“Dr. … “ He blinked in disbelief. “Rubinstein?” It was her, but she was _quite_ different now. Yes, she was the same height, but her chest _as well as_ her face was quite different in every respect. Her teeth were not so white, her nose was actually quite large, and her lips were quite thin now. Even her chin was a different shape now and her ears stuck out just a bit too far. “ _Rebecca_?”

“Yeah.” She smiled as she winked to him.

“You look … “ His words trailed off as he looked her up and down. “Quite a bit …”

“Natural?”

“Beautiful.” He finished her sentence simply and Rebecca actually blushed.

It was in _this_ distinct moment that Hathų felt herself blush terribly as she realized, once again, how Quintus had looked through Dawn’s eyes. And it was in this one absolutely perfectly placed word that she remembered the person she’d seen through her descendant. He was quite unique.

As the guard walked away, Ephraim shouted to him before turning back around. “ ** _Well Fuck You Too!_** ” He turned back to Quintus. “Hey man, how’s it going?” He threw his hand out for Quintus to shake. Given what he had _just_ said about Quintus, Hathų would not have shaken his hand, but Quintus did. He seemed to not really care at all, just _pleased_ to see people he knew again. To see _his friends_.

“Your son?” He asked and Ephraim shook his head sadly.

“Zach’s not here.”

“I am sorry, **_Doctor_**.” His sympathy was genuine and it was in this moment of silence that Ephraim noticed Hathų finally.

“Wait, I know you!” She cringed. _Ah crap_. “Yeah! You’re that … You’re that … “ He trailed off as he snapped his fingers, trying to remember who she was and Quintus finished his sentence while she cringed yet again.

“ _Prophet_.”

“Yeah!” He clapped his hands. “Yeah! That’s it! A prophet! Hey, do you think you can ask around for me? I mean, you’ve got mad swing here right?” His eyes were wide and hopeful which made Hathų sigh. She would liked to have run away, but she smiled instead and stepped forward, taking his right hand within both of hers.

“I am sorry for _your loss_ , Doctor Goodweather.” She did feel as if she _knew_ him, as she’d seen him many times through Dawn’s eyes and he had been _kind_ to her. He tried to pull out of her grasp in frustration but she held him tightly as she raised her right hand to his check, placing it tenderly against his skin. “I understand your loss … I do. I have a son of my own.”

This seemed to calm him a bit and he stopped refusing her touch as he stared down into her intense and expressive brown eyes. “But they can _really_ do nothing. It is beyond their power.”

“That is bullshit.” He shook her head, still not pulling from her grasp. “This is Heaven. I just need to find someone who _does_ have the power. I mean, God–”

“God is gone, Doctor.” Quintus seemed surprised by her disclosure and she continued quickly. “I am not suppose to say such things, but I _feel_ you will keep this secret, yes? I feel you are trustworthy.” Ephraim nodded as the tears pooled in his eyes. She did not wish to _kill_ his hope, but he needed to move on. “It is not the angels’ fault. They can _send_ to hell, but they cannot _pull_ from it. It is one direction and until the maker returns, your son will stay where he is.”

“When … “ Ephraim stuttered significantly. “When will he return?”

Hathų shook her head gently. “If we knew the answer to that question, then so many things would be different. But, they do what they can, with the information that they have. I am sorry you are displeased with it, but this is the reality of the situation.”

Ephraim nodded simply and _finally_ offered no more words as Rebecca chimed in with a simple question of her own. “Gone? How long has he been … gone?”

She was not permitted to discuss such things, but she _knew_ there were plenty of rumors surrounding it anyways and today had been _so very hard_ as it was.

_Fuck the rules._

“He left when Jesus was crucified. Some have hope of his return, but, I think we both know that when you lose a son, it is not something that is so easy to recover from, right?” Ephraim nodded and she released the doctor from her hands, smiling sadly to him. “ _I do not think he will ever return._ ”

Ephraim cried into Rebecca’s shoulder and Hathų _knew_ he would not be back again. As she stepped away, Quintus looked at her and nodded, understanding that she had _released_ him. “Thank you for that.”

“He needed to know. He needed to … _let go_.” She stated as she bit back her own tears. “Shall we continue?” It would have been better if he had just said yes and left, but instead he turned to his friends to say goodbye and Ephraim spoke again. Hathų cringed at his words because she _knew_ what they would ignite.

“We’re gonna head over and get in line at the _Visitor’s Center_. You wanna come with us?” Ephraim asked naively and Quintus cocked his head to the left.

“Visitor’s Center?” He asked inquisitively.

“Yeah. Gonna check on everyone and see how they are doing.”

Quintus cocked his head to the right now, as he asked the _same_ question again, “Visitor’s Center?” He turned back to Hathų, who shook her head back and forth slowly to him. _Ah crap_.

“Fet, Dutch, Gus and Dawn. You haven’t heard of it? I’m kinda surprised you haven’t been glued to the thing.” Ephraim shrugged and then pulled back his enthusiasm as he read the confusion on Quintus’ face.

Quintus turned to her fully, his eyes wide with apprehension already. “What is he talking about?”

“Quintus … don’t.” She barely said as the good doctor spoke again. She wished he would just _shut up_ right now.

“It’s a couple of blocks away. The line is crazy long and it takes weeks to get through, but you can see your living loved ones again. To check up on them. Setrakian told me about it.” Ephraim pointed but Quintus’ gaze remained locked on hers and she cringed _yet again_. His disappointing stare was crippling. “Wait … no one told you about it?”

“Indeed.” He continued to glare. “They did _not_.”

Hathų spoke, correcting Ephraim’s naming. “It is the _Place of Visitation_. But, I am sorry Quintus.” She was ashamed suddenly. There was _no way_ to keep this from him. Eventually he would have learned of it, but she wished he had some time for _adjustment_. “As is customary for all divine beings, you are _not allowed_ any visitations.”

He looked at her defeated before turning to Ephraim, “I think I would like to _see it_ nonetheless.”


	13. 2.4 - Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have struggled a bit with this part for some time. I’d written a part of it quite a while ago and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take this route down the story **UNTIL** the Mister Quinlan comics came out late last year and my decision was solidified. I plan on writing a much more detailed explanation, but I was ridiculously disappointed in the characterization given to us for **_Tasa_**.
> 
> I know that my standards for a Female Character probably surpass most readers out there (I actually expect them to have some kind of agency and not just be a “beautiful” accessory) and Quintus was originally pitched to us as a character that is driven by some fundamentally incredible **LOVE**. He seeks the Master because of this great love that was lost and, without going into too much of a rant here about, we were given a [sexy lamp](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Sexy_Lamp_Test) instead.
> 
> Out of 5 issues, she spoke a total of six times. Six. She had zero agency on the story itself and Quintus repeatedly just called her beautiful. There is so much more I can go into about this, but I will stop digressing for now. For those who are disappointed with what I’ve done, I simply cannot apologize. And for those who use the very tiresome excuse of “woman of her time” –> [Here](http://mentalfloss.com/article/59287/9-female-warriors-who-made-their-mark-history).
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

> _Two for the taking_
> 
> _You can have it all at once if you make it sane_
> 
> _Its gonna drive you_
> 
> _Back down the roads and the streets and pavements_
> 
> _Stamping your ground and the rules that shaped us_
> 
> _(That shaped us)_
> 
> _(I could walk you)_
> 
> _(That shaped us)_

It was a crippling sorrow with which he struggled to cope. He felt like he should have been numb to this type of grief by now, but there was something fundamentally different about it. What the prophet had confessed to him had invoked an overwhelming and unshakable guilt.

The debate within him raged between two particular considerations and he was unsure which one pained him more. Had it been that he, inadvertently, destroyed any chance she may have had at eventually rising to Heaven? Or was it more selfish than that? Was it that he would _never_ lay eyes on her again. Never speak to her again. Never hear her again. Never touch. Never taste. Never … _smell_?

The last thought was false. Occasionally, he was certain he _could_ smell her. The breeze would shift and he would get just the faintest whiff of _her_ … _Angelica._

But of these two considerations, he would tell himself often that it was indeed the former which caused him more grief, because the latter was merely selfish, right? Was this not his plan though? Was this not what he expected when he took _that_ bomb to _that_ island _that_ night?

Not exactly. _No_. He knew he had to _leave_ her there, yes, but he would remind himself that he expected he would _not continue_ at all, in _any_ existence or form. He had expected _oblivion_ , not _this …_ torment. This … **_purgatory_**.

Considering the former was significantly worse. Had he _damned_ her? What could possibly be her fate now? There were too many questions and he knew he would never be given their answers. Was her fate sealed, on _Earth_ , alone while he was expected to live in paradise alone? After he had released her, would she grow old and die still? What would happen to her soul then? Inevitably, he would circle back to wondering if saving her that day had been _selfish_ or not. He would assure himself there had been no way to know, but he would hate himself a little bit more each time nonetheless.

After a while, he eventually accepted that both things pained him equally. He’d dealt with the latter before when he lost his wife. He also thought he might _never_ see Tasa again and he’d continued to exist for nearly two thousand years after that loss, had he not? He could endure this then, right? It should get easier … However, he _knew_ that this was somehow distinctly different. This misery affected more than just his heart, he felt this ache seeping into his very soul.

After he saw the queue at the Hall of Visitation, he left Ephraim and Rebecca there, promising to return later. The doctor had grabbed his arm and whispered lowly in his ear so that none would hear. “Find me after I’m back. I’ll tell you what I see.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Of this, he was extremely grateful as it gave him something to look forward to and now he waited. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long it would be as he’d never seen a line so long, wrapping around the building several hundred times and he was told that it was backed up for _months_. That when the strigoi outbreak had first occurred, the hall had been closed and this was the backlog that had occurred.

Eventually, the prophet left him to wander. It was obvious that he was able to _shift_ , as they called it, without need for aid. This ability had even shocked his watchers when it had first occurred. He could not spontaneously be in a place of his choice _yet_ , but he seemed to be able to _walk_ to it without the need for a pre-existing paths. They said this was a power of the Earth Seraphim _and_ Hayyoth alone.

When he first began to explore, he kept his strigoi appearance but found that people didn’t take well to it even in Heaven. Most, if not _all_ , who resided here were beautiful and he accepted that. Man was _obsessed_ with beauty and if people could change how they looked, of course _everyone_ would chose to be _beautiful_. On some fundamental level, this saddened him quite a bit as _everyone_ he met seemed to look almost the exact same.

 _Beauty_ , as it is widely accepted, tends to sum to the _absence of anything unique._ In the end, he found himself _conforming_ with it, simply because he did not wish to draw attention. He had actually laughed at one point, because in the end, it was an odd feeling to be so … _generic_. He had turned heads when he was alive and now, he blurred into the background. Years spent wishing to be a _man_ , wishing to be the _same_ and now that he had it, he realized what a travesty that desire actually was.

During his endless stroll, his shadows always in tow, he found [Elysium](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elysium) first. It was exactly as he had always imagined it. Perfect. Beautiful. Generic. Boring. Rolling fields filled with Greeks and Romans. As he walked the streets and markets, he recognized many, though none recognized him. He did not stay long, as he feared seeing _someone_ in particular.

Periodically, he would feel the _itch_ of Hathų looking for him and he would go, finding her easily. He had learned to leave his frustration with her behind as he actually found her pleasant to be around. She had qualities that reminded him of Dawn a bit. She was quite defiant and her eyes were incredibly expressive, but eventually this was too much to bear and he would part her company again.

Next, he found [Valhalla](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valhalla) and [Fólkvangr](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F%C3%B3lkvangr). At first, he was confused when he found six different versions of Valhalla and, uncharacteristic of them, his guards offered up a verbal explanation to his obvious confusion. An explanation that he wound up hearing quite often, repeated all throughout this _ideal_ realm. “ _Everyone is entitled to their own version of Paradise._ ”

He found [Vaikuntha](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vaikuntha), [Tian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tian), and [Tlalocan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tlalocan) next. Each journey he finished made the next all that much easier, as [it was simply a matter of applying his imagination to the steps he was taking.](http://wiki.roadtoamber.com/shadow-walking) Next was [The Fields Of Aaru](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aaru), [Tír na nÓg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T%C3%ADr_na_n%C3%93g), and [Otherworld](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otherworld).

The last he visited was [Shamayim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heaven_in_Judaism). He knew he was just distracting himself while he occasionally checked on Ephraim, still waiting in that ridiculous queue. His next planned stop was [Cockaigne](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cockaigne) when he heard Hathų scratching for him again. He found her sitting patiently for him in a cafe in Elysium.

Smiling as she watched him approach, she waved to the chair across from her and he sat slowly, his guards keeping a good distance this time and affording them _actual privacy_. The longer they stayed with him, it seemed the more they grew to trust him or, more likely, grew bored of watching him entirely.

“It has been some time.” Her voice and smile were both pleasant as always.

“Indeed.”

“Where have you been lately?” She asked, expressing real interest and he told her of the things he’d seen and the places he’d found. He was shocked to realize that she had not seen most of them herself.

“I never venture far from my … _family._ ” She explained. “Not many do. And, it is quite difficult to see these places without _shifting_ to them. Plus, it is not common to be so _restless_ in Heaven.”

“If you ever wish to see them, I can take you.” He offered her and she was pleased at his offer of friendship. “This is, if you find yourself curious enough to _venture far_.”

They sat for a quiet moment before she ordered them both teas and he took it, but did not drink from the cup immediately. “You should try it. This shop has become one of my favorite places.”

“I do not need it.” He explained.

“ _Nothing_ here is for the _need_ , Quintus. It is just for the experience.” He shrugged but complied, taking a drink of the sweet, warm liquid. It was _supposed_ to be pleasant, but it still made him a bit uneasy. He’d never enjoyed drinking _anything_ except blood and doing so now _still_ felt unnatural. He cringed at the texture of it.

“You have seen many places, but … have you found all of _your lost_ yet?” She pushed and he could read her worry for him. 

> **Note from Author:** There was more planned here, but as I’ve received feedback to get the story along, I’ll skip it all for now. If I receive enough desire to hear more about the rekindling of old friendships, maybe I can be convinced to write one shots about them.

> _All went in the fire, drowning in the sea._
> 
> _A red dawn, oh red font._
> 
> _Caught up in the sea. All went in the sea_
> 
> _If only if only. If only if only._
> 
> _Did you want to find a way (fight) (fly away)_
> 
> _I always saw me love_
> 
> _I will be love befallen_
> 
> _I will lay my teeth_
> 
> _I’ll wait for growing_

“I have seen many of them.” He had found a number of people and had even spoken with most of them briefly. Decimus, Tacitus, Sertorius, Abraham, and William. He had even _seen_ Liviana from a distance and found her _absolutely_ perfect in appearance. She had not been so on Earth and her new look had been off putting to him so he had selfishly avoided her entirely. He would later feel guilty about that, but he would not seek her out again because she was _happy_ and there was no need to remind her of the unfortunate life she had lived for his own personal gain.

“Yet you still wander.” She pointed out as he nodded to her statement.

“I am not sure what else to do _quite yet_.”

“If no one place suites you, then you can have something _made_ that might.” She suggested.

“I can have something _made_ for me?” He stared down at the half full cup as the server came by. She might have asked if he wanted to try another, but he waved her off rudely without looking up and she left them in peace.

“ _Someplace_. Yes. It’s all … _malleable_ here.”

“Malleable?” He questioned, unsure of what to make of her abstract answer.

“There are _The Shapers_ … those who can make _worlds_ for others.”

“Worlds?” He laughed. “My own personal _paradise_?”

“You’ve already been to a number of them. They did not _always_ exist here, but they were sculpted from people’s imaginations. If you cannot find something that can make you _happy_ , then they can help _shape_ it for you.” She offered.

“You think they can bring me happiness?” He doubted succinctly and she looked at his solemn face, “You think they bring me what I _truly_ … desire?”

“Perhaps. They can bring you _places_ and they can bring you _things._ And … if you want _people_ , then they can even bring you _shadows_ of them.” She looked down at her cup as she spoke because she knew this was not what he wished to hear and he could read the shame on her face for even suggesting it.

“ _Mere shadows_ are _not_ what I desire, _Prophet._ ”

“Desire is a … _tricky_ word, _Invictus_.” When he offered nothing more, she asked finally. “Do you have _more loved_ ones to visit?”

“A few.”

“What of your parents? Have you been back to see the Densus couple?”

“Not yet. No.”

“You told Honoria you would.” She reminded him and he sighed heavily. He did not need her lectures.

“I know and _I will_. They have not called to me and I am not yet ready.” He pursed his lips together and he knew the prophet would not leave it as such as she continued to push.

“What about the woman you called _mother_?” She dug the name from her memory. “Ancharia, right?”

“Yes. She has called me to several times but …” He trailed off as he looked at the other _customers_ seated around the quaint tea house. Everyone always seemed happy but he knew it wasn’t really _happiness_ he was seeing. It was complacency. How was he supposed to spend eternity _like this_?

“But you ignored her?” She asked.

“She is _not_ who I remembered her to be.” Ancharia had been … _different_ than his memories told him. He was significantly disappointed in that reunion and he was unsure how to act around her now that he had had time to mull it over. “Do not worry about me, please. I will find her again … _when I am ready_.” He qualified.

“And …” She hesitated, pulling on her own fingernails nervously before she spoke. “ _And what about your wife?_ ”

He cringed as it was apparent that the prophet _had_ been listening _that terrible night_ when he had confessed to _his Poet_ about his _wife_. “I see.” He said as he raised an eyebrow to her and she shrugged innocently. “How often were you present for my private conversations, princess?”

“Not as often as you probably assume.” She answered. “I would usually only _see_ when she was … in distress.” _Yes._ In that moment, before he had told Dawn about his wife, he had put _the Poet_ in much … _distress_.

The silence was palpable before he finally spoke, repeating again what he’d said multiple times already. “I will find her when I am–”

“ _When you are ready._ ” She finished his sentence as she sighed.

“Is it not up to me?” He asked, hoping she might grant him privacy. “I know you mean well, but I do not appreciate the pressure.”

“What keeps you from _her_? The words that you spoke that night about her were … “ Hathų trailed off as he could see her replaying them in her mind as he did the same. 

> "I have loved one and only one in all of my life, and **I plan to ONLY love her.** My time here draws to a close, I can _feel it_ , and whatever afterlife awaits me, whether it be the[ fields](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elysium) or[ Tartarus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tartarus), whether it be Heaven or even Hell, I go there with her on my mind and in my heart, _always_. _She_ awaits me in eternity. It would be … _unfair_ to you for me to pretend otherwise. Do you not deserve to find the same?”

He cringed at the memory of these words as he spoke. _“_ ** _Cruel_** _.”_ He finished her sentence but she shook her head. This was _not_ the word he _really_ wished to use. There were several that would have been more _honest_. _Cowardly … Spineless … Scared …_ **_Lies._**

 _“Memorable_.” She offered instead.

“Please do _not_ remind me of _that night_.” He sneered, unable to mask his growing annoyance at the mention of it. There were many things he regretted in his long life, and this particular moment topped that list. He would have gladly burned down Rome again, if he could just take back what he had said to his _Poet_ that night. “Have you called me here to remind me of my regrets? I do not need you to do that for me, princess. I can do that all on my own.”

“Forgive me. It is not my place, but–”

“No, it is not your place.”

“It is _just_ … the way that you _spoke_ of her that night … _of your wife_ … I would have assumed you would seek her out _immediately_. _Afterall, as you stated, she is the love of your life–_ ”

Quintus shifted in his chair as he shook his head, interrupting her as quickly as he could. “This is none of your business, princess.” He considered leaving but he stayed as something _urged_ him to stay. Another _itch_ … another … _Patience Quintus._

“What is it then?” Hathų pressed gently. “Is it shame? Do you feel guilty about your _attraction_ to Dawn? Does it make you feel as if you _betrayed_ your wife?” He knew she was only trying to help, but a part of him screamed to get up and leave her sitting here alone … if it wasn’t for that _itch_. _Patience Quintus_. “You were alone for a _very long_ time. You should not feel guilty that you–”

“ _My reasons are my own._ I …” Why must she push him so hard? If he verbalized it, it would make the _situation_ all the more real and he was not ready to accept what he had realized about Tasa quite yet. “I question _many things_ still …”

“Question _what_ exactly, Quintus?”

“Destiny.” He could not move his eyes from his cooling tea. _“Fate. Circumstance. Consequence. Eventualities … The Future … ”_

“Your destiny has been achieved.” She sighed. “Fate is finished with you just as it is finished with me. Now we can _rest_ and you can finally move on.”

Yes. _Exactly_. She was spot on because _this_ was what he feared the most. “But I question what my fate _was_ , specifically.” He found her dark brown eyes lovely and her lashes were _impressively thick_. He often stared at her lashes more than _any_ other part of her face most times. His _Poet_ had thick lashes as well … _Had?_ Has.

“Your fate? To save the world? To defeat _The Seventh_?” She smiled.

“No.” He shook his head. “Of that, I am no longer certain. I chose to believe it may have been _her_.”

Hathų seemed to be perplexed by this statement and she prodded gently. “What do you mean _her_?”

All the signs. Consequence and circumstance and eventuality. He thought about both of the dragonflies. The one for Dawn and the one for Tasa _that_ last day. He considered telling Hathų everything, but he didn’t see a purpose to it. It was all _cRaZy_ , right? What was the point of such a sign if Fate was just going to take _her_ away from him that very same day.

He was concerned that he had misinterpreted it entirely. Was it _not_ that he was supposed to let his _wife_ go, or was it the complete opposite? Did it mean that he was supposed to let _the Poet_ go instead? This was maddening and he muttered his next statement lowly. “ _The Master_ said we are all just pawns in _a bigger game_. I wonder what that game might be.”

This statement caused her discomfort and he noted it immediately as she squeaked a timid response, grabbing her ear again as she rubbed it. This was her _tell_ and he knew she was still hiding something from him each time she stroked it. “Does it matter? Whatever unfolds, neither of us will be a part of it going forward now. Our roles are done.”

“And you just accept that? You do not seem like someone who would just accept that.” He shrugged. “But after two thousands years, I cannot just … _sit on the sidelines_.” He stated firmly. Did she not understand that was simply not his nature?

“This is not _easy_ for me either.” She stared at her tea and he understood now that these _visits_ were not _just_ for his benefit. She was struggling to cope with her own _inability_ to act. “But it is how it is now.”

“Yet it still makes me wonder. If everything that happened was … _planned_. If it was _all by design_ , then I have just been manipulated since the beginning.” His response was entirely toneless. “And, if that is true, then _free will_ itself is a lie.”

“I don’t think _anything_ has been _by design_ , Quintus.” She frowned. “It cannot be.”

“Why not?” His brows furrowed.

“Because …” She peered within the tea shop behind him briefly before looking back to his eyes. “Everything’s a _mess_. The world is a cruel and terrible place. I will not accept that. This can’t be how it was supposed to play out.”

He chuckled lowly. _Indeed_. “Perhaps so. That still does not nullify my concern.”

“What is troubling you? What drives these doubts?” She pressed him again and he knew that as he was learning to read her, she was learning to read him as well. “What is the point of these questions?”

“I … question whether my feelings were ever my own.” He rolled his head in annoyance of his own statement. “I question if any of it was _ever_ real …”

“Quintus–” He could see her raise her eyebrow out of his peripheral vision, but he continued with his words while he stared to the now cold liquid in his cup.

“Was the entire thing _manipulation_? Was I drawn to her simply because of … “ He needed to be discrete. “ _Our similarities_?”

“Quintus.” She said again as she reached across the table, gripping his closest hand with both of hers. He could have pulled it out of her grasp, but he found her touch warm and somewhat comforting. Her heart was kind. “That is absurd. This is what you have been doing? You have been _questioning_ your feelings for her?”

“I was … “ He cleared his throat quietly. “ … _attracted to her_. I had not felt that type of … _attraction_ for nearly 400 years.” Confessing this to Hathų was less embarrassing than he had expected as he found he did not care anymore. He’d only _ever_ confessed this once before, and he was dead now. What does any of it matter now? “My body _reacted_ to her in a way I could not control and I question if it was perhaps because of _what she was_.” He frowned slightly. “Was it driven by something outside of my own control? Was I manipulated into it all? By design … perhaps even–”

“Quintus.” She interrupted him as she shook her head, turning to look at his guards and pointing to the taller one. “What do you think of _Bene Puriel_?”

Turning to look at his guards again, he found Puriel standing tall, her stature perfectly erect as always with her hand on her sword and Dukiel, as always, had his finger up his nose. “She is … _pleasant._ ”

“No. She is beautiful.” Hathų sighed. “She is perfection itself.”

Quintus looked again and nodded. “Indeed. She is. So what?”

“She is … _similar_ to you, is she not?” Hathų’s discrete implication was that Puriel was an Angel, like him … like _his Poet_. He shrugged off her statement but she continued with another question. “And are you attracted to her in a similar way?”

“Attracted?” He was perturbed at the ridiculous question. “No. I am not. But that is not the same.”

“But why not?” Hathų smiled mischievously. “She is beautiful and strong and intelligent. She is loyal and experienced and–”

“What is your point?” He countered. “It is obviously not the same … _here_.”

“She is _like_ you, right?” She whispered the next part lowly. “She is angelic, just as you are. Are you _attracted_ to her? Do you desire her?”

Quintus shook his head. “No, that is _not_ equivalent. I am just a spirit, I have no Qliphoth, no body that can desire–”

“And there it is. _That_ is your mistake, Quintus.” She hummed, taking another innocent drink of her beverage, quite pleased with her words. He squinted at her as he wasn’t following her explanation at all. It was _not_ the same thing at all.

“In what way?” He didn’t make mistakes. “There is no physical desire–”

“ ** _That_** _is your mistake, Quintus_.” She repeated and he glared at her, not appreciating the repetition. “Angels don’t function the same way man does. _Specifically not in that regard._ ”

“Explain.” He remained calm even in light of her demeaning tone.

“You said you hadn’t been … _attracted_ to anyone in 400 years?” She asked and he nodded once. “Was it _attraction_ or was it that your _body_ no longer willing to comply with your manly needs?” She peered down to his lap and and he felt himself flush with heat over the embarrassment of it. Did she really want him to _describe_ it in detail to her?

“Get to your point, _princess_.” This title was supposed to be an insult but she giggled at it now, seeming to accept fully. “Do you find my problem amusing?” He was clearly displeased now.

“It is not _your perceived problem_ that I find amusing.” She shrugged as she smiled simply. “It is your _ignorance_ surrounding it.”

“My … “ He coughed at her, frustration leaking into his voice. “ _Ignorance?!?_ ”

“You are Hayyoth, Quintus. More so _now_ than ever before. You have been getting stronger the older you get, yes?” She asked and he nodded.

“Ozryel’s divinity grew stronger within me each passing year.” He accepted.

“Grows.” She corrected his tense. The implication being that it was _still_ happening. “Yes. You were born _more man_ than _angel_. But the older you are, the more that scale shifts from one side to the other … the _more angel_ than man you become.”

“And what does this have to do with my … _performance problem_?” He was impressed with the calmness of the ensuing conversation. He was more _curious_ at this point than insulted as he was _dead_ and there was no need to be in shame over it any longer.

“What you are perceiving as a _problem_ , is actually quite the opposite.” She smiled as she winked at him strangely. “You did not _break_ , you evolved.”

“Continue.” He said.

“Man was built in such a way as to promote the _generation_ of new souls. The Garden of Eden was a garden, afterall. It’s entire purpose was to grow and harvest souls from the Pool of Creation.” He listened intently, unsure where she was going with this quite yet.

“To _increase_ this crop’s yield, he was created as a physically sexual creature. Driven by factors very nearly out of his own control, his body can react to stimulus even if he does not wish it to. His Qliphoth is controlled by physical forces. Hormones, pheromones and DNA, all in play to drive him to act on physical desires. To procreate. He has been _programmed_ this way. In a way, this drives a divide between his Qliphoth and his soul. It is a curse of Mankind.”

She paused to catch her breath and he shrugged. “Yes. So, what? You are saying _angels_ aren’t sexual? If what you are saying is true and I am more angel than man now, then I would not have been _attracted to_ anyone at all.”

“No, Quintus. I am trying to explain that they function on an entirely _different_ level than man. They are not driven to blindly reproduce with all suitable mates, to blinding create _new souls_ for the sake of pleasure and physical need. They **_don’t_** just see someone that might be a good genetic match and … _hop on it_.” She giggled at her own words as she blushed slightly. “When they _feel a_ sexual attraction that **_is only_** because there is a fundamental bond that has formed.”

“Fundamental bond?”

“Love.” She confirmed simply. “And love is attached to the soul, _not the body_. With man, lust and love _can be_ entirely mutually exclusive, but for divine beings, one _cannot_ exist without the other. And this type of desire needs no Qliphoth to exist within you … _even now_.”

He paused for a brief and quiet moment as he tried to internalize her explanation. “I have been told that **_love_** has been disproven. That it is simply _oxytocin_ in your brain.” He grinned as Hathų ruffled her nose at him.

“Oxy-What?” She questioned in annoyance. “ _Who told you that?!?_ ” She prodded aggressively.

“No. _No one. No one._ ” He chuckled lowly to himself as he recalled that awkward conversation _they_ had shared in the cabin and he found his chuckle had turned into a full blown laugh. “It was just something that _Dawn_ said to me.”

“Of course it was.” Hathų shook her head.

“Because I told her that I loved her.” Quintus shrugged as he bit back another laugh as he smiled, remembering that his _Poet_ was such a strange, little creature. “That I was … _in love_ with her.”

“ _Why would she say_ **_something like that_** _to you?_ ” Her confusion was profound.

“I do not think she believed me.” He confessed to Hathų. “My words … _that regrettable night_ … gave her reason to harbour _much_ doubt.“

“Sometimes she is her own worst enemy.”

Quintus laughed again in agreement. “Indeed.”

She looked up sharply as surprise spread over her dark face. “Wait … _when did you tell her this?_ ” The curiosity in her voice made Quintus smile. He was grateful they had had some amount of privacy from her prying eyes that day.

“Do you not know?” He asked in amusement. “I assumed you were _always_ watching us … even then.”

“Even when?” She seemed distressed now. “But … When did you _tell_ her that?” Shock oozed from her face. “What happened that final day?”

Quintus smiled as he enjoyed knowing _something_ she did not for once. “It matters not. Does it? Not now … ” The smile was short lived.

“Umm … no. I suppose it does not.” She looked guilty for some reason and shelved her desire to know as she realized there was _no way_ he was going to tell her more. “But no, it is _not_ oxy-what-not.”

“Tocin.” He corrected and Hathų huffed as she waved a disapproving arm in the air.

“ _Love is not a chemical_. What you felt for her was _not_ a chemical. It was _not_ hormones, or pheromones or _even_ **_by design_**. You hit a tipping point nearly 400 years ago and your body fundamentally changed when it occurred. Your will has been and will _always_ be your own.”

“You are saying …” He reconsidered the vulgarness of his next words before he said them, but he said them anyways, being comfortable enough around her now to not care if he might insult her any longer. “I _wanted to fuck her_ **_because_** _I loved her_ … rather than–”

“Rather than _loving her_ **_because_** _you wanted fuck her_. It is a subtle, but remarkably powerful distinction, is it not?”

“ _Indeed_.” He smiled as he found himself accepting it. It clarified something quite profound that he was struggling with, concerning _his wife_ as well. She had quickly alleviated something sinister that had been weighing on his mind for weeks. _His love for her was his own_. With one important conversation, she’d returned the control he felt like he’d lost over his own body four hundred years ago as well as the doubts that had grown over that change. “ _Thank you._ ”

There was a brief pause as the breeze pushed through the square and Quintus looked up to her staring at him patiently as he asked. “How do you know so much about this?”

“It is not secret … _and_ … I have many friends who are … _like you_.” Her rubbed her ear again and Quintus smirked, cataloging the statements that made her do this so that he could eventually work out a theory for it. Releasing her ear, she frowned at him. “But, you should not spend so much time alone. It is enabling such doubt to fester.”

“I am fine.” He was so far from fine right now, but he knew he thought he could handle it. The last woman he loved, he had lost and he survived for thousands of years, had he not? “And, I am clearly _not_ alone. It is not permitted. I have _Puriel and Dukiel_.” He smirked, unable to keep a straight face at his own joke.

She entirely ignored his quip. “I found this shop not very long ago. I was looking for _someone_ and I happened across it. It had become one of my favorite places. I even brought your friend Abraham here.” She smiled as she waved the server over. “Do you like your tea? Would you like to try another flavor?”

“No.” He pouted. “I told you I do not like tea. Is there somewhere I can get blood instead?” He asked, _mostly_ joking.

“What is preventing you, Quintus?” She pushed gently. “You have been free for months now.” Damn, she was back on that top again.

“Indeed. So what is a few more months when I have waited _tens of thousands_ already?” He brought the cup up to his lips and considered another drink, but cringed as he put it back down. He found even the smell distasteful.

“What drives this hesitation?” She pressed again. _Defiant_. She was so used to getting her way and he knew she didn’t care that he didn’t wish to speak of it with her.

“Please stop. It is not that simple.” Staring down into the cup that was now entirely cold, he waved his hand over it, heating it back up instantly. It was getting easier and easier to manipulate things around him and Hathų gasped in surprise at the act before he spoke. “I am not the same … _person_ … I was back then. As you have just explained to me. I was _very young and quite naive_. Many things have changed. _And_ … what if … ”

A different server was there again, interrupting them as she asked if he would like to try another flavor since he clearly didn’t like what he had. Never breaking his gaze on the cup, he shook his head and she retreated.

“What if?” Hathų poked him to continue.

“What if she is not as I remembered her.” He asked, but he knew this was just an excuse. “Just like Ancharia?”

“It is always a possibility. People, dead or alive, are allowed to change, but … you _loved_ this woman, yes? Does she not deserve to see you at least? With a love like you described, I imagine she _misses_ you as well.”

Quintus rolled his head in frustration as he grunted. “Were you married, prophet?” He asked, simply and she nodded. “Were you reunited with your husband here?”

“No. My Earthly husband and I did not persevere but I know _many_ who have. Look at Honoria and Sempronius.” She smiled and her next thought obviously brought her much joy as her smile only deepened. “But … I have _love_ here and I was re-married after I arrived.”

“You have a husband … _here_?” He was shocked by this, as she had never mentioned it and she nodded merrily. “I should like to meet the one who would have seduced the great prophet some time.”

There was the ear rub again and he smirked. This subject made her nervous. “No. He works … _a lot_.” She shook her head.

“There is … _work_ … in Heaven?”

“Some people _enjoy_ working and _yes_ , there is. Even _this shop owner”_ She waved towards the waitress as she spoke. “She chooses to work, though she need not do so. It is the act of bringing joy to another that they enjoy. The act of contributing something of value. Or, people get bored.”

“Yes. I can definitely see the latter … ” He said as his voice trailed off. _Heaven was full of complacency._

“Do not change the subject, Invictus. She would want you to be happy.” He didn’t appreciate this sentence at all.

“I do not need you–”

“Dawn would not wish this on you. She would _want you_ to be happy, Quintus.” She reached for his hand and he pulled it away from her, placing it in his lap. “I know it.”

“Do not push m–”

“Take as long as you require.” She was quite pushy right now. “Mourn for _as long as_ you need, but know that she wouldn’t _wish this_ existence on you. She would want you to be happy, even if it was with someone else.”

“You do not know what she would want.” He spat and he might have spoke again, but she took the conversation from him.

“Do you not want her to find happiness as well?” She asked and her words shook something loose within him. He had not actually considered _that_ yet and he felt nauseous at the thought of it. Could another man be _touching_ her? _Oh gods._

“If any man touches her, I will end him. I swear it.” He began to sneer through a clenched jaw as his eyes grew quite mad. “He would die a death so pain–”

“Quintus!” Hathų caught him mid-sentence as she chastised his impending words. _“You are dead! You cannot end anyone!”_

“[Mea est!!!](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/She%20is%20mine!)” He slapped the table hard and drew the attention of those around them while Hathų hide her face in shame. “If _any man_ touches her and his soul comes through here, I will make him wish he had been sent to the pit! [Pedicabo ego eum in aeternum!](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/I%20will%20sodomize%20him%20for%20eternity!)”

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Hathų brought her hands over her ears as she spoke. “You are being a child. You are parted _forever_ , you cannot expect her to remain as _broken_ as you are choosing to stay.” She huffed at him with seething disappointment and he stared down at his cup, pouting yet again. “And do not change the subject. Is it guilt? Is that why you are delaying–”

“It is guilt.” He interrupted with an admission but he shook his head as he considered his words carefully next. “But not in the way that you are assuming.”

“I understand, Quintus. You planned to _only_ love one. _Change happens._ You fell in love again, it _happens_. Feeling guilty loving her–”

“ _I do ** _not_** feel guilty for loving Dawn!_ ” He spat, unable to cool the growing anger that showed through his eyes as his hands slapped palm down on the wooden table again, creating an even louder noise that drew even more attention from those seated around them. “ _Nor will I ** _ _ever__** feel guilty for **__that__**._ ”

For the first time since they started speaking, she looked almost afraid to say anything else for fear of invoking even more anger from him, but she drew a quick breath as she looked around nervously. “Then what _is it_? Explain it to me.”

“I am guilty because … ” He placed his hand in his hands as he breathed out heavily. Was she _really_ going to make him _say this out loud? Oh gods_. It already hurt so badly to just _know_ it. If he spoke it, he felt like it would make it _absolutely certain_. “ _I do not love Tasa any longer_ … and now, _because of your words today_ , I actually question if I _ever did_.”

Hathų’s face flushed with completely shock and her hand covered her mouth quickly. This was not what she was expecting to hear and she pushed her chair back quickly. “We should go talk about this … let’s … _go for a walk_.”

Quintus blinked at her and then shrugged, but as he heard the voice behind him, Hathų’s eyes grew even wider as her face continued to get redder.

“I am sorry to be a bother _again_ , but is there a problem here?” _Oh gods_ … _that voice_. It was … _her_ voice. Quintus locked eyes with Hathų as the prophet hid her face behind her hands and no further words escaped his mouth. Just as with Honoria, he froze, unable to turn to face the woman. “If you are that displeased, I can bring another.” 

“I am very sorry for the commotion.” Hathų apologized as she stuttered. “C-c-can you get the green one for him to try?” She asked and Quintus tried to refuse vehemently, waving his hand back and forth over his cup as he finally looked _up_ into the woman’s face and his refusal halted instantly. The last time he had seen _those eyes_ , he had removed her head from her body with a sword.

She looked _exactly_ the same, not having changed anything about herself. And why would she? She had always been _breathtaking_. It was what had drawn him to her to begin with. Dark hair, equally dark eyes and beautifully olive skin.

She hadn’t spoken because he’d halted her each time she’d come to their table and now he stared up at her with wide and shocked eyes. “If that is alright with you?” She smiled at him and he felt himself nodding only once as she walked away. She hadn’t recognized him. Of course she hadn’t, he looked so very different now and his head swam with nervousness. 

> **Tasa.**

“You knew.” He glared at Hathų as she took an uncomfortable sip of her drink, staring off to the right. _He hated being manipulated._

“I am sorry.” She frowned. “I found her after you told Dawn about her that night. She is quite lovel–”

“You manipulated me.” He sneered and he might have bit another insult back to her, but Tasa was back as she set another cup in front of him, flashing her incredible smile at him. As she looked at him this time, she furrowed her brows.

“I am so sorry to interrupt you again, but … _have we met before_?” She cocked her head to the right. “You seem familiar to me.” She spoke but he had no words with which to respond and this caused Hathų to shift uncomfortably slightly.

“It is possible, as my friend did not always look as he does now.” She began but Quintus halted her immediately.

“No. I am sure _we_ have not.” He smiled and Tasa nodded.

“Let me know if you find this one distasteful as well, we can always try another.” Her smile was exactly the same and he shuddered as he remembered looking forward to _this exact_ moment for _millennia_. Each time he had rubbed _the locket_ … picturing her eyes, her lips, her hair …

He placed his head into his hand again as the memory of throwing the locket into the river flashed back across his mind. His head swam again and Hathų pressed further.

“Why did you say that? Why did you not just admit who you are?”

“I do not know. I …” Quintus shook his head. “She … she did _not_ recognize me.”

“Of course she didn’t! You are quite …” Hathų blushed. “Handsome now. Well … “ She paused again, realizing her insult. “Not saying that you were _not handsome_ before but–”

“I know I was a monster before, but … _not even my voice?_ ” He had known her by her voice alone. Turning around in his seat, he watched her carefully. Noticing his lingering staring, she smiled back to him nervously and he spun back around in embarrassment. “ _Oh gods_. What have you done??” His face went back into his hands as he questioned Hathų again. “I was not ready for this.”

“You would have _never_ been ready. We both know that.” She shook her head as his fury with her was only growing.

“ ** _You do not know that! It was not your right!_** ” The tables directly around them turned to see the commotion that his raised voice was causing _yet again_. It was an unnatural thing to be _displeased_ in Heaven and he’d _never_ seen people arguing here. In Valhalla, yes … constantly. But not here in Elysium, not even once. He felt flustered and cornered by the entire experience that she had _architected_.

“That is why I said I am sorry. But, it is done. The band aid is _off_.” She shrugged. “Now … go and talk to her. Tell her who you are or just … change yourself and let her _see_ you.”

He shook his head as he gripped the cup in both hands, staring blankly at the table as he lifted it and took a drink, forgetting that he hated the taste of it. Sneering at the liquid, he set it back down before he snuck another look over his shoulder again.

A woman, who looked remarkably like Tasa, emerged from the shop with a tray full of drinks, handing it to his _wife_ as she spoke her. She had been the second server who had come and he hadn’t looked up at her face either, but he had not recognized her voice. The last time he heard her, she was so very young. “Mum, here.”

Mum? **__Mum?!?__**   He stared at the woman as she re-entered the shop, through the glass windows as the recognition struck him quickly. 

> **Sura.**

_Oh gods._

She was grown now and she looked far more beautiful than he had imagined she would have, had she been allowed to _grow up_. That was not surprising, as _everyone_ here was beautiful, weren’t they?

He spun back around and took another drink of his terrible tea, finishing it off fully as he stared blankly at the table for a moment more.

“Quintus.” Hathų started to push again, but his hand flew, a finger pointing directly to her face.

“Do not speak to me again. You are a _conniving snake!_ ” He whispered lowly as he spied over his shoulder yet again, whipping back around quickly as Tasa turned their direction. Hathų complied, taking another silent drink.

“If you will not go to speak with her, then I will. I did not think you ever such a _coward!_ ” Hathų threatened and Quintus took a deep breath as he stood bravely from his chair. He turned to face Tasa and took a single step as that _damn itch_ in his mind returned and he paused. _Patience Quintus. Wait for it._

> _I’m giving you up_
> 
> _I’ve forgiven it all_
> 
> _You set me free, oh_

And in that brief hesitation, at _that_ moment, a man approached _his wife_. As she turned, the look of happy recognition spread across her face and Quintus halted completely.

“Hello **Amenzu**.” She smiled at him as he closed the distance between them. Quintus could only watch with a mouth agape. **_Amenzu_** … he _knew_ that name. He’d heard Tasa speak it in her sleep once before. She had cried it out with more pain than he had _ever_ heard in her voice. He woke her from the nightmare and she had _cried_ in his arms. “My love.” Quintus stood a step back but stood and watched as she sat the man at a close table. He smiled as he reached out to touch her arm, stroking it gently while she bent to kiss him. The way that she looked at _that man_ … she had _never_ looked at him this way. 

> **_Amenzu_ … ** was the name of …

He repeated the name in his mind again as he heard Hathų gasp a whisper from behind him. “She has met someone new?!?”

It had been a _very long_ time. It was quite reasonable to assume that she would _not_ have waited for him _all that time_ , but he knew the prophet’s statement was _not_ accurate. No, he knew this name and she had _not_ met someone new. 

> **_Amenzu …_** was the name of …

“Dad!” Sura emerged from the shop with her own gleeful greeting and he watched as the two women sat at the table. “How was your trip, did you–” 

> **_Amenzu …_** was the name of Tasa’s _dead_ husband.

He had died years before Quintus had _taken_ his family. The Romans had slaughtered him and enslaved his family.  Turning back around, he didn’t listen to their ensuing conversation as he slipped _very_ slowly back into his seat, covering his face quickly with both of his hands. 

> **_Amenzu_ … ** was the name of Sura’s father.

She had _not_ met anyone _new_ and Quintus exhaled deeply, keeping his face from view as he slowly processed what he had just witnessed. He’d waited to be with Tasa for nearly two thousand years, thinking of her every single day, pining for her beauty and her soft voice and … her songs.

_This entire time … she’d been here in Heaven … with the love of **her** mortal life … happy._

##  _And it was ** _ _not__** him._

##  _It had ** _ _never__** been him._

Hathų watched in silent horror as the situation unfolded before them. Covering his face, she was sure he had started to weep lowly, his chest heaving slightly.

“Quintus. Oh my god. I am so sorry. _I am so sorry_.” She tried to apologize profusely as she had _never_ seen him cry, but as his hands melted away from his face, she realized he was _not_ crying. He was … _laughing_.

Meeting her eyes, he smiled. “I was _guilty_ that she may have waited for me for two thousand years and … ” His face was the happiest that she had seen since he’d arrived and he stood quickly, knocking the chair to the ground behind him. “I … I … am **_free_**. _I must go_.”

And like that, Quintus was _gone_. There was no movement from him, he just shifted out of Elysium instantly and she bolted up as well, swinging around to the guards who were still idly standing, unaware of his disappearance. Her sudden movement cued them onto it and as they came running, Hathų shook her head.

**“Ah crap. _That backfired._ ”**

* * *

> _And finally I’m forced to face the truth_
> 
> _No matter what I say_
> 
> _I’m, not over you_

Quintus stood and stared at the ridiculous queue into the final waiting room. The guards had been told not let him through, but when he spied Ephraim sitting idly in the room, he waved and the doctor returned his gesture enthusiastically. Quintus innocently pointed to him, turning to the Bene Elohim guard. “Do you mind if I speak with my friend for just a moment?”

The guard nearly refused but then permitted him entrance. People were quite trusting here it seemed. “Make it quick.”

As he walked to greet Goodweather, he watched as the large monitor on the far wall switched to another symbol and a man sprung up, walking to the door that was flashing. He placed a small ticket into a slot on the side and the door opened. There were ten doors total and he looked over at Ephraim’s ticket as he approached.

“Great timing man!” Ephraim smiled at her and waved a piece of paper at him with a strange symbol on it. “I’m next!”

Quintus blinked. “How … fortuitous.” The timing was _perfect_ then? How? He smiled as the Professor’s words graced his memory as the monitor flipped to Ephraim’s number and the far right door’s light came on. “There are no coincidences, only eventualities, Doctor. I do apologize.”

“Sorry for what?” Ephraim asked with profound confusion.

The ticket was in Quintus’ hand quickly as he released his human appearance to focus his energy better and fluidly pushed Ephraim down to the ground with enough force to send him sliding across the ground to trip the running guards like a bowling ball. They had been eyeing him suspiciously since permitting him entrance and they were fast, but not as fast as he was. The ticket was in the slot and he was through the door, closing it behind him and snapping the handle off before they even managed to pull themselves back up from the ground.

The room itself was quite tiny, no more than four feet in any direction with a single monitor on the wall. He heard the voice giving him direction. “Please imagine the loved one that you would like to visit.” This was easily the most modern place he’d seen in his travels yet.

_Imagine his loved one. Done._

The experience itself was not unlike _shifting_ entirely. He felt the reality of the room melt away as it was replaced all around him and he found himself standing in a _very loud_ and _very packed_ room. It took him a moment to realize it was a reception of some sort. People danced around him gleefully, dressed with fancy attire. He seemed to be standing in the very center of the large hall, and as people danced around him, they took no notice of his existence at all, passing through him as if he was only a hologram

Fleeing the dance floor, stepping through people as he walked, he spun around and around as he searched for his intended target.

 _Where the hell was she?_ There were too many people and he began to get frustrated as he did not know how long he might have. He knew that time here was spinning faster than Heaven, but they _would_ remove him from the room eventually.

The frustration melted away quickly as he took a step back, finally realizing _what_ this celebration was for. Seated at the closest table, Dutch and Fet were seated in front of everyone. They were laughing and drink and … Dutch was wearing a magnificent white dress. He’d _never_ seen Fet wear anything so fancy and they both looked so very … _happy_.

“This is to Mr. and Mrs. Fet!” Gus stood from the seat beside Fet as he started to tap his wine glass with his knife. Quintus had failed to recognize Gus as well until he spoke and his eyes slowly shifted from right to left as he looked at Gus … Fet … Dutch … _her._ She was sitting next to Dutch and Quintus found himself starting to smile. He’d _never_ seen her in such a costume. 

She was wearing … _a dress_. It matched Gus’ and Fet’s ties exactly as he understood she was matching the wedding party. Yes. And her hair was in an impressive configuration on top of her head. He was disappointed that her face was heavily painted and therefore hiding _all_ of her spots but the colors around her eyes made them pop. God how he missed that color. Her cheeks were a bit plumper than he last remembered them, but he didn’t care.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Velders!” Gus screamed at Dutch as the married couple complied with the clanking that Gus had invoked around the entire hall and kissed deeply. It was obvious there was much drinking occurring and as Quintus began to step forward, Fet and Dutch stood and took to the dance floor again.

He paused momentarily as Gus approached her.

“Come on shorty!” He tried to pull her from her chair and she vehemently refused, finally speaking.

“No no. I’m good. My feet are killing me!” She chortled to the aggressive boxer through a massive grin.

“Ah come on!” He seemed to beg her, tugging on her arm again and she shook her.

“I’m good! I’m good!” She giggled and he caved. “Maybe on a slower song, ok?”

“Aight. Aight! Imma hold you to that!” Gus flashed a big smile before he retreated to the dance floor, quickly finding a replacement dance partner.

Quintus approached slowly, sliding himself down onto Dutch’s char as he stared at her face in quiet awe. She watched and smiled and laughed at the spectacle of Gus and Fet on the dance floor and he watched her closely. At one point, he reached out and attempted to touch her shoulder, but his hand passed through her.

It was in _this_ moment that she turned and faced Dutch’s chair and he thought _maybe_ she had felt him. He considered touching her again, but as he raised his hand, he found it trembling and he brought it back down.

She was here … she was … _safe_. Ozryel was full of shit. And she was … _happy_. Of this, he was completely certain until he watched as she waited for her friends to be entirely distracted by their own happiness and her fake smile _faded away_. He watched her stand, grabbing her empty wine glass and the nearly full bottle from the table as she walked towards the back of the room, sitting at a far and empty table alone. He followed her, resisting the urge to touch her again.

She filled her glass to the top and she finished it, watching her friends from the back of the room. Gus returned to their table to find her for the next slow song, but she’d hidden herself in the corner well enough that he he gave up on this quest and returned to the dance floor alone. Another glass and the bottle was finished, so she helped herself to the next bottle in the middle of her new table, filling the glass and downing it quickly again. It was at the end of the fourth glass that she shifted her attention from the dance floor to the table cloth as she stared blankly at it and the tears started.

 _The happiness had been a mask_. Quintus saw it. Quintus _felt_ it.

_Broken._

He watched as she grabbed the next bottle, pouring her fifth glass and he wished desperately to stop her. Did they not see what was happening? He shifted his attention back to the dance floor and shook his head at their ignorance. _Did they not see this? How could they be missing this?_ He was angry but he _knew_ it wasn’t their fault. He _knew_ this was his.

She began to drink the newly refilled glass and he reached out, placing his hand over hers as it went through, resting on the table, partially phased through hers. _Damnation_. Not being able to _touch_ her was torturous.

“ ** _Libellula_**.” He leaned in towards her as far as he could, trying to brush his forehead against her temple, desperate to feel this touch, but his skin simply phased through hers. “Please … _please_ do _not_ be sad. I am –” **_here with you. You are not alone_**. These were the words that he _would_ have spoke, had the hands not grabbed his shoulders from behind, ripping him away from her as he screamed.

The force and speed at which he was flung left him breathless and as his back connected with the waiting room floor, he stared up into the silver helmet of the _Governor_ , whose voice bellowed at a volume that even _he_ had not heard from the archangel before.

**_“You were warned.”_ **

He stared up into the helmet as he smiled marvelously. Regardless of what punishment might come next, he regretting _nothing_. There was _nothing_ that they could do to him that wouldn’t be worth what he had just experienced. For the first time since he’d arrived, Quintus breathed a sigh of relief as his smile grew even more. Michael, however, did not appreciate the smirk.

“ _I regret nothing._ ”

**_“You fucking little shit!!!”_ **

Quintus was fulling prepared for some kind of snark rebuttal but darkness overwhelmed him as the end of the staff connected with the side of his head.

 

* * *

 

Gus would never take _no_ for an answer, so she’d just lied to him. And why the fuck not? Everyone was a liar, weren’t they? Once he was distracted with the tall, slender woman that seemed to like him, she retreated to the back of the room. Sliding into the seat near the corner, she felt safe to let her guard down. It was exhausting but she’d put on a good display for Fet and Dutch today. It was _their_ day and she really _was_ happy for them, regardless of what she did next.

She’d never been a _Maid of Honor_ before, and considering most of Dutch’s friends were dead she’d gladly accepted the responsibility, though there had been an argument about her actually having to wear a dress.

She poured herself another glass as she slipped those damn shoes off under the table, resolving to just leaving them there and walking out bare foot.

Knowing she should stop after the second glass, she poured and downed her third. Then she poured her fourth and she found herself spirally again. 

> “Stop drinking. Stop. You know nothing good will come from it.”
> 
> “I know.”

She _promised_ herself she wouldn’t do this here … not on _this day_. Gus had _forced_ her to promise him in fact, but he was busy now and she felt herself plummeting. 

> “This day isn’t about you. Be happy for them.”
> 
> “I am.”

She urged herself to stop, but she found herself crying nonetheless. The weakness of it frustrated her deeply. She was _better_ than this, right? Stronger.  Hardened.  How foolish was it? It had been eight months now and she … needed to pull herself back together.  This was bordering on pathetic.

She regarded her hand for a moment, staring at it strangely as a feeling of comfort spread across her. Reaching up to her temple, she touched a single spot on it when his voice tickled gently across her wrecked mind and she stuttered a small whispered gasp.

_“Q-Q-Quintus?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 


	14. Interlude 2 - Between the Motion and the Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

## Between the Motion and the Act

 

####  **_8 Earthly Months Ago_ **

####  **_In a tiny, warm, secluded cabin, nestled in the woodlands of New York state, not far from Lake Onondaga_ **

> Y _our skin_
> 
> _Oh yeah your skin and bones_ _  
> _
> 
> _Turn into something beautiful_ _  
> _
> 
> _You know you know I love you so_ _  
> _
> 
> _You know I love you so_

“ _Please_ be patient with me.” He asked as he pulled her palm to his bare chest, pressing it firmly over his heart so that she could feel the powerful beating through his warm skin. Leaning in towards her, his lips found hers with a long but simple kiss. He continued the momentum forward, persuading her to lay back down on the cushions of the couch as he moved atop her, looking down into her expressive eyes.

“I have never done _this_ before.” He purred softly as he attempted to take her lips yet again, but she pushed against his chest gently, providing just enough resistance that he paused and allowed her to speak.

Her face contorted goofily as she smiled up at him with disbelief, raising a single eyebrow as she attempted to call his _obvious_ bluff, “ _Umm … Quintus … I’m pretty damn certain you’ve had … sex before_.” She scoffed at his words but he shook his head in response to her statement, using the motion to rub his nose against the tip of hers. He hovered so close to her, that as she spoke he felt the warmth of her breath on his mouth and he rattled with yearning.

“No. That is _not_ what I meant.” Another kiss, this one longer as he held himself inches above her, making sure not to crush her under his weight. “I mean … “ He hesitated and his hesitation made the moment ripe with burgeoning intensity. “ _Making love_.”

His words were timid and laced with slight caution at having to actually voice it. Saying it outloud, right now, in all of his naked glory, _directly to her_ , made him feel particularly vulnerable as he sensed his immortal heart nearly skip a beat.

She giggled at his statement and his embarrassment began to fester. Did she find his openness entertaining? _Were his words amusing to her?_ He patiently waited for her to clarify her laughter.

“Just because I _make_ you kiss me … doesn’t mean–” He was relieved … she was _not amused_ , she had just missed his meaning entirely. She didn’t hear it because her self doubt was preventing her from _understanding_ his meaning and he interrupted her quickly as he shifted his body further on top, parting her legs and moving his hips between hers while he spoke.

“It is not the _kissing_ …” He kissed, brushing his tongue against hers as he rattled. “It is not _just_ the _intimacy_ …” Still holding her palm against his chest, he gripped it as his purr reverberated through both of their bodies. “It is because I am _falling in love_ … ” Pulling back to see her expression, he spied her brows furrowing slightly as he qualified his statement even further, “It is because I _have_ already fallen in love … with you.”

While he pressed himself against her mouth again, he closed his eyes as tightly as possible. He was far too nervous to let her respond to _his confession_ and he flooded her with more kisses, barely allowing her to breath as he began to make _love_ to her … _yet again._

Pleasure …

          Intimacy …

**_Love._ **

She fidgeted under his movements and pushed on his chest gently again and he allowed her reprieve from his advanced. He allowed her to finally speak as he adjusted his body over her, pressing against her opening, but not yet pushing in. Though it was torturous, he enjoyed this brief moment of pause here because he relished in the the small gasp that would escape her as her heart rate increased with sweet anticipation.

“I …” As he opened his eyes again, he found her face quite concerned. His words had the _exact_ opposite reaction as he had intended and he pulled back from his position atop her, retreating back to a sitting position beside her as she pulled herself up and did the same.

He did not regret the confession to her and he did not do so expecting to hear it repeated back to him, but he felt an overwhelming sense of defeat as he stared down to the small, empty space between them.

“I … “ She tried again but her sentence trailed off yet again and he resisted the urge to reach out for her hand. He denied the urge to grab her and pull her onto his lap so that she could bury her head into the heat of his swirls.

"What is it?” He frowned. “What did I do wrong … _this time_?” His voice was full of concern, not animosity. “Please tell me. It was not my intention to–”

“I don’t … “ He waited for her to finish. “I’m sorry … I really don’t believe you.”

“You do not believe that I _love_ you?” He asked, the pain obvious in his voice. Perhaps it was hard to believe that he could love …

“No. _No_. That’s not what I was referring to.” She shook her head and he reached for her wrist, no longer able to withstand the distance. Grabbing her hand quickly, both to halt that _incessant rubbing_ before she had a chance to start it and also to pull her back into his embrace. It might have been a rough action, but he didn’t care as he swiftly yanked her across the couch and onto his lap, pushing his forehead against hers. “ _Nevermind_.”

“No.” He plead. “Explain to me what you mean? Do you think me incapable of–”

“ _Nevermind_.” She leaned in to kiss him and he turned his face from her. There was a painful moment of silence before she attempted to retreat back to her own cushion, but his grip on her hips kept her in place.

“Explain it to me.” He demanded. “Is my love so … _unbelieveable_.”

“No. It’s _not_ that. I don’t believe that … ” She stuttered, seemingly ashamed of the words she had yet to speak. “… that you’ve never _made love_ before.” She touched his swirls softly now and he felt himself tense with the sensation of it, growling slightly. He wasn’t sure if she meant it to distract him, but she continued on slowly. “You have _been in love_ before …”

_Ah_. Yes. He could understand how his words had been confusing to her. He would have made the same assumptions of dishonesty that she had made if he had known the same information. He sighed as he stared at her spots, then her nose, her ears, her eyebrows, her lashes … and finally resting his vision on her eyes.

“I’m sorry … it’s none of my business. I don’t really want to talk about this right now. Can we just drop it?”

He could let it go, as she was requesting, but he did not wish to leave her with such doubts on the validity of his statements.

“My marriage …” He wished to be concise, but there was no simple way to describe this in a single sentence to her. Not in any way that _she_ would accept. “… was never _consummated_.”

“What?” Dawn furrowed her brows slightly as he frowned. “Why not?”

He shrugged, looking down as he played with the hem of the shirt that hung loosely on her small frame. “It was … _complicated_.”

“Oh my god … “ Her right hand came to her mouth. “Does that mean she died on … “ She gulped. “ _Your wedding day?_ ” The thought of that seemed to horrify her but he shook his head quickly back and forth. Of course her logical mind was trying to make sense of his statement and he _knew_ he would need to explain it further for her as how she was likely fitting strange scenarios in her mind.

“No. _No_. It was … ” He turned her body around and pulled her legs apart to straddle him. He did not intend this in a sexual way, it was simply so that he could look fully into her face as he spoke.

She accepted the new position as she sat back against his knees, pulling the giant shirt down to afford herself modesty and he fought the urge to run his hands up her knees and across her thighs to grab her cheeks from behind and pull her forward onto him. This was the same position as _their first_ dream on the couch and he twitched suddenly.

“It was what?” Dawn put his distracted mind back on track.

_Damnation_. He felt his arousal start to wane as the seriousness of the conversation ousted it. “I was not _always_ so strong.” He sighed. “There was a time when I was a slave.”

“Is that how it happened? I mean, _your back_?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yes.” Brushing his finger tips slightly on her exposed knees, he traced small circles across her soft skin as he stared down, confessing further without looking back into her eyes. “As a slave, you learn first hand about the savagery of mankind. And I was quite young when my … _exploitation_ began.”

_Had he ever said this out loud?_ He was sure he hadn’t. He’d always kept these things locked deep within. He hated to remember being so young, without power and lacking any control. “As a gladiator, _many_ duties were _expected_ from you …”

“I am … so sor–” She began to pull away and his eyes locked with her as he grinned simply.

“NO. Do _not_ pity me. **_Never pity me._** I do not disclose these things for _that_ reason.” She nodded and allowed him to continue. “If I can be entirely honest, being a young man with such _burdens_ was _rarely_ a … bad thing. But, at the time, it was a _chore_ nonetheless and it became more tedious than enjoyable. When I was allowed a reprieve from it, I found it … _peaceful_.”

“And … she … _your wife_ , I mean … was just … ok with that?” She cleared her throat and he returned to tracing circles on her upper leg. “I mean … if I had a husband … If you were my … umm … I mean … ”

He smiled at her awkwardness. “By the time I met _her_ , Tasa had already lived through _many tortures_. My _limitations_ in that regard did not concern her. At first, our relationship was simply based on mutual benefit. I provided her and her daughter with security and comfort while they provided me with companionship and a sense of worth. We did not require the _pleasures_ that mankind had already _tainted_ for us.”

“How old were you?” Her fingers touched his chest gently, tracing his scars as she diverted her attention from his intense stare.

“ _Very young_. Younger than you are now.” He liked her soft fingers against his skin. “Twenty two.”

“Wow.” This made her giggle and he found himself grin as well. “You were a baby!”

“You are closer to that age than I am now.” He reminded her and she shrugged, asking her next question without pause.

“How long were you two together?” She asked.

“Six years.”

She mouthed the number back to him, showing disbelief : ‘Six years’ and he nodded “And _no_ sex?”

“There were … _pleasures_.” He stated and hoped she wouldn’t want details on what _this_ meant. His marriage had not been _entirely_ absent of _shared pleasure_.

“But you _loved_ her?”

“ _Eventually_ … “ His touches moved farther up her legs. “There _was_ love. She afforded me _something_ that I had never experienced before.”

“What was that?” She asked and he smiled, finding her green eyes staring back into his again.

“ _Intimacy_.”

“So … you never … _desired_ her?”

“There was _always desire_. She was …” **_this most beautiful woman I have ever seen_**. He caught himself before these next words escaped. Tasa _had been_ the most beautiful women he’d _ever_ met, but at this moment in time, he was not sure how to even define the word _beautiful_ anymore, especially not while staring directly into his _Poet’s_ eyes right now. “But I feared to succumb to it. _In the beginning_ , I lost control often. Many suffered as I lacked control and that _act_ itself … with me … was quite … _dangerous_. There had always been a clear distinction for me between _pleasure_ and–”

“Intimacy.” She finished as he smiled. He waited for her next question patiently, resolving himself to answer _anything_ that she wished to know. He was now entirely bare to her and though he assumed he would be nervous at the reality of it, he wasn’t. His mask completely removed, he felt free and the words flowed effortlessly to her.

“So you haven’t had sex in two thousand years?” She ruffled her nose and he squinted at her.

“No. What?” He replayed her words in his mind as he questioned her with an uneven tone. “No. What on Earth would make you assume that?”

“Oh.” She squirmed slightly at the sound of his voice. “You said … I don’t know. You said … “ She looked back at the blanket on the ground in front of the hearth and flicked her head towards it. “Earlier … that it had _definitely_ been longer _for_ you than me … and you just said you don’t like _sex_. I just assumed–”

“I did _not_ say I do not _enjoy_ sex.” He huffed. “I said it took me a while to fully _appreciate_ the pleasure of it as a _free man_.”

“Sorry.” Frowning, she looked down at her hands as she touched his his stomach timidly. He’d embarrassed her.

“ _Enough_ with that word.” He stated sharply, using his hand to tilt her chin up so he could see into her eyes. “You told me not to apologize to you earlier and I ask the same of you. From this point forward, _never apologize to me for anything again_. There should be _nothing_ that you need to be _sorry_ for.”

“Ok. Ok. Sor–” Her eyes grew wide as she covered her mouth and a giggle escaped instead of the _almost_ apology and he smirked at the laughter. He wondered if he might be able to invoke the sound again and his hands trailed up, over the loose shirt as he tested her sensitivity, poking his fingers into her sides gently and she writhed under his tickle. Her snickers continued gloriously.

“Quintus! NO!” Her body convulsed in agonizing amusement under his torturous prods, but he held her in place and she begged for a reprieve in between her panted gasps of laughter. “Stop! Please! STOP!”

“Mmmmm.” He purred into her neck as he kissed it, but he begrudgingly complied with her pleas. His hands fell back down, gripping her thighs firmly as he slyly slid her up just a few inches the moment her body went limp onto his chest as she collapsed from the exertion of his tingling attack.

The loose shirt now covered both of them and he was grateful for the small amount of modesty it was affording him, given his growing arousal again. He did not mind being naked, but he would have preferred they _both_ be if that were the case.

He had not meant to distract her from the topic at hand, but he had only wished to hear her laughter more. She had asked a question, and he had promised himself he would answer _all_ of her inquiries. His mask was off.

“It had been nearly _four centuries_.” He stated plainly, shrugging his shoulders simply.

“Four centuries since what?” She asked, her head still foggy from his merciless incursion against her. He said nothing as revelation spread across her face. “Oh. _That’s a long time_.”

“Indeed.” He gripped her thighs. Knowing _he_ was so close to _her_ , he found himself purring steadily now.

She touched his chest again, her fingers tracing up his stomach to his sternum before gingerly finding their way across his pectoralis to his left nipple. This affectionate touch sparked his arousal further and he was again thankful the loose shirt was now covering him. He watched her mouth as she bite her lower lip and he could see that she was mulling over whether to ask her next question.

“Ask it.” He commanded as he gripped her cheeks again causing her to squeak suddenly at the shock of it. Leaning in to steal a kiss, he used the movement to hide the fact that he had once again inched her forward a bit.

“Ask what?” She feigned innocence.

“Whatever is weighing on your mind. Ask it.”

“Ok. Why?”

“Why? Why ask it?”

“No. Why four hundred years?” She licked her lips as her smile widened. “Did you become a monk? Did you take a vow of celibacy?” There was that giggle again and he cringed as he was partially hoping she wouldn’t ask further about it. But his mask was off … “No one met your fancy?” She attempted an English accent on the last sentence and he laughed lowly.

“I could not.”

“Could not?” Her inquisitive head cocked to the right.

He shook his head, swallowing hard as he nodded his head down towards his own lap. “ _I could not … anymore._ ” He repeated.

“Oh.” She stared down at the part of his body that was hiding under the loose shirt and creating a conspicuous tent in the fabric right now. Her head cocked to the left this time as she asked again. “Doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.” Was it a statement or was it a question?

“Indeed. It does not.” He kissed, inching her up sneakily again. “Perhaps I did need to find someone that I _fancied_.” Another kiss and another inch. The next embrace would cause him to rub against her and he rattled at the mere thought of it as he was reminded of that _dream_ on the couch coming to fruition. It was nearly perfect in its re-enactment.

_Mmmmmm._

“Who was the last?” She asked, but he knew nothing good could come from this line of questioning.

“Does it matter? No one of _any_ consequence.” He leaned forward and she pulled back at his non-answer. He _really_ would have answered, but he had not bothered to get the _whore’s_ name.

“No one of consequence? Just someone you randomly _fucked_?” _Uh oh_. Quintus frowned heavily considering whether being entirely honest was the right decision.

No. He had promised himself honesty and he would own up to who he really was. He cleared his throat. “She was a prostitute. I did not get her name.” He should not be ashamed of this. _This_ was the oldest profession in the world, was it not? Even places in _her_ own country legally allowed it. This is what he told himself, but he could not look up to her face. He feared the pain of her inevitable disapproval.

“Oh.” Her hands left his chest and as he felt her begin to retreat from his lap, his hand grabbed her thighs firmly before finally looking up and locking eyes with her again. He was confused immediately as it wasn’t disappointment or even disgust that he was now seeing, but concern.

“If you have failed to notice, I am _not_ an attractive man.” He began to excuse himself. “I had needs that many women would have foun–”

“ _No_. _No_.” She interrupted him softly. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“Then why do you pull away from me?”

“Oh. I’m sor–” She caught herself quickly and she relaxed as she laughed at nearly apologizing to him again. Sighing, she opened her body posture back up to him and returned her hands to his chest. “I was just … worried for a moment.”

“Worried about what?” He pushed. “Would you prefer that I had fucked someone that I had _loved_ instead?”

_Do not get defensive._

“ ** _No_**. I guess not.” Closing her eyes, she sighed again. Her embarrassment was clear and he patiently waited for her to voice her thoughts. “I just … you don’t … “ She looked almost guilty about whatever was crossing her mind. “You don’t have any … _STDs_ , do you?”

“STDs?” He blinked.

“You know …” She leaned forward and he started at her lips with pure amusement as she whispered it to him lowly.

“ _Sexually transmitted diseases._ ” He laughed loudly as she frowned heavily. “That wasn’t a joke … It’s _not_ funny.”

“Are you sure? It is quite amusing.” He laughed again but her serious look made him squirm now. “No, I do not have any … _Es - Tee - Dees._ ”

Continuing to frown, she pouted slightly, not appreciating his laughter at her question. “How do you know? Have you ever been tested? What if–”

“Libellula, I do not carry disease, nor have I _ever_ been able to pass any along to another. I am above human afflictions.” He leaned forward, brushing her nose. “As I am _absolutely certain_ you are as well.”

“But …” She stammered. “What about parasites? Those aren’t dise–”

She had successfully halted his arousal _yet again_ and he slumped back against the couch as he shook his head at her again, smiling. “I should know my own _body_ well, after two thousand years, should I not?”

“But–”

“I am unsure if I should be _amused_ or _insulted_ right now.” He definitely wasn’t the latter, but he wished to squash her argument. “If these were concerns, perhaps you should have voiced them _earlier_. Is it not too late now?”

“I … ” She pouted again as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Have I _ever_ given you reason to doubt me?” The words escaped and he cringed as he saw her mouth fly open. He pressed his finger to her lips, shaking his head quickly. “Do not answer that.”

“Fine.” He didn’t like her being upset with him, but damn, he did enjoy the pout on her face. “I trust you.”

“Good.” Pulling her hands out of their fixed position across her body, he placed her palms back against his chest, hoping to entice her to touch him tenderly again. He enjoyed it quite a bit and when she began, he smirked, returning his own hands to her backside as he kissed again.

_Oh gods._ It was so very easy for her to ignite him again and as he kissed this time, his left hand stayed where it was and his right quickly trailed up and under her shirt, grabbing a glorious handful of her bare breast and squeezing it gently.

He leaned forward for her mouth, but she spoke again and on the same subject. “So uh … How many were there?”

He cringed. “How many what?” He knew what she was asking and he would answer, but she would need to be less embarrassed about it if she wished to know these things about his past.

“Uh …” Furrowing her brows, she fidgeted with growing discomfort.

“Ladies of the night?” He offered a more pleasant term than the one that hesitantly lingered on her lips. _Whore. Prostitute. Hooker. Call Girl. Streetwalker._

“Yeah.”

“I do not think I am enjoying how _single-sided_ this conversation has become.” He slumped back against the couch, pulling the loose shirt over himself as he relaxed. “There were many. And what of you? _How many have had you?_ ”

She blinked innocently at his question. “Me? Zero. I’ve _never_ slept with a _Lady of the Night_.”

“I do not like this question. I do not know why it matters …” It was his turn to pout as he really had _no idea_ how to answer it.

“I was just wondering.” She meekly smiled as she shrugged at him. He remembered that combination of adorable movements and he sneered at her cuteness.

“There were _many_. I did not count them.”

“Oh …” She stared down for a while before looking up. “Like … how often? One a week? One a month?”

“Yes. At the very least, once a month.” He shook his head. “ _Please_. This does not matter. They were of no consequence. Why does this–”

She had already begun to count on her fingers, and when he saw this, he grabbed them to prevent the action but she then stared blankly up at the ceiling as her eyes squinted and he saw her mouthing numbers silently to herself.

“Stop this!” He commanded suddenly as he realized she was still calculating the number. “I do not like _this!”_ He would have attempted to tickle next, but it was too late.

Her mouth dropped open as she stared down into his face. “OH MY GOD, that is over nineteen THOUSAND!”

Dropping her hands immediately, he shook his head back and forth at the ridiculous number. “Do not be absurd. That number is ridiculous.”

“You said once a month. Two thousand minus four hundred is sixteen hundred, multiplied by 12 is over nineteen thousand!”

“No.” He was adamant with disbelief. “That is _ridiculous_. It is not nineteen thousand.” _Oh gods._ She could not be right, could she?

“But, you said once a month. When did you start?”

“Perhaps it was _less often_. Perhaps it was every other month.” He knew that was a lie. He knew it was likely even more frequent than once a month, but her number _had_ to be wrong. _Nineteen thousand?_

“Every other month would still be over nine thousand.” She stared at him blankly.

“Perhaps it was every three months?” He tried sheepishly and her eyes grew bigger.

“That’s still over six thousand women.” He thought about that last word and considered correcting her, as it was not always _women_. _Hmmm_. It was not a question, so he felt no shame in _not_ correcting it at all.

Her hands covered her mouth quickly as the shock set in on his own face. At first, he was sure it was a sign of pure disgust, but as she started to giggle behind it, his face fell to perplexity. “What … what are you _laughing_ at?”

She removed her hand from her mouth only long enough to utter a single sentence. “You’re a slut.” As she finished the last word, her eyes flashed brilliantly wide with awe that she had said it and she quickly covered her mouth again as the giggles continued.

“No, I am not! I am _not_ a slut!” He tried to remain entirely serious, but her giggling was infectious. As he started to smile, he repeated again, “I am _not_ a slut! STOP IT!” He was laughing _and_ commanding at the same time. As he began to playfully poke her at the tender flesh of her sides, she erupted into convulsions of even more violent laughter. “Enough! I will _MAKE_ you stop it!”

“And why aren’t you?” She gasped for breath and he continued his assault.

“A man cannot be a slut.”

“What?” She pulled back and swatted his hands down from her side. “Yes they can!”

“No.” He wiped his smile from his face as he locked eyes with her. “The definition of the word itself is for a _woman_.” He gripped her thighs again, leaning in for another kiss as he slid her up again. He would have to start all over as she was back against his knees again. “So, by the definition given by your _own_ native language, I cannot be a _slut_.”

This seemed to be displease her greatly as her own smile faded and she scrunched her nose. “ _Well that_ sucks.”

“And you?” He pressed now.

“Me what?”

“How many have _had_ you?” He asked and the seriousness of his question surprised even him. He was torn at whether to ask it as half of him wanted to know, but half of him knew it was a bad idea.

“I …” There was that pout again and she squirmed, attempting to shift back but he pulled her forward again, sliding her all at once so that his firmness pressed against her hair. “Umm …”

“How many?” He demanded as he moved his hands from her thighs to her cheeks. It would be easier to lift and guide her with _this_ grip.

“Four.” She confessed as she stared at him, but a small grin came across her face. “Well … now _five_.” When she leaned in for a kiss, he found himself pulling back from her as he pushed her back down his legs.

“Four?” Did he sound surprised? Wait … _was he surprised_?

“Yeah.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I mean … were you expecting in the thousands?” She giggled and she leaned in again and he dodged again.

“Four?” He asked again and he wasn’t sure what was really going through his mind. He wondered if these men still _lived_ first and it wasn’t until he saw the hurt on her face that he snapped his mind back to the reality at hand.

“Wait …” She pulled her hands back from him. “Is that … _a lot_?” She was assuming that his reaction was because it was such a _low_ number, but he was honestly not expecting … _What the fuck did he expect?_

“I … “ He stuttered and he watched as she tried to pull herself from his lap entirely. “No, no, no.” Grabbing her, he held her in place.

“What were you _expecting_ me to say?” He _hated_ the look of pain he had caused her.

“I … I do not know. I … “ He fought his desire to apologize now and as his shoulders slumped down he sighed heavily. “One.”

She furrowed her nose at him. “I think it was obvious I wasn’t a _virgin_.”

“No. No. I mean … I do not know. _Two_?” Shrugging, he locked eyes with her. He regretted asking and he had no idea how he had managed to dig himself into such a deep hole again so very quickly. “I know you were married, but I did not expect–”

“I guess it’s only ok if I had _paid_ for it?”

“No. What? Of course not. No. Wait … _did you pay for it_?!?” He was suddenly disgusted at the implication of that. His imagination jumped at the thought of a man _entering_ her because she had _paid him for it_. That was absolutely … Quintus felt himself relax as the _real_ implication of her question finally made sense. There was a quiet moment of reflections as neither spoke and he wished so badly to apologize, but …

“Who were these _men_?” He asked simply and she shook her head at him.

“No. You didn’t give me any names, I’m not–”

“I can give you _four_ names, if you would take an even trade. There was a plebeian woman, Liviana–”

Dawn shook her head fiercely as she pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him immediately. “No! I don’t want to know.” Her eyes wide with concern.

His mouth fell open with disappointment. “Yet, now you have two names and I have _none_.”

“That’s not exactly an even trade … I’ll give you 25% of my ex-lover’s names when you can give me the same.” She squinted at him as she retorted to his statement. “That’s–” As she started to calculate again, staring up at the ceiling, he grabbed her chin and brought it down to kiss him instead.

“No.” He said as he gave up his childish pursuit of jealousy. “Please do not count again. I do not like hearing it.” Knowing the estimated numbers had brought him much discomfort as it reminded him of how old he actually was. He’d given his age very little thought since he’d been here with her. She’d made him feel _young_ again with all of the new sensations and emotions and … longings.

“Let’s just drop it?” She offered and he nodded excitedly. _Oh gods, yes_. But he found himself still wondering about it all …

“Did you …” He looked into her eyes with eyes that conveyed his worry clearly. “Did you love them …. _All?_ ”

> _It’s sweet and it’s stone cold_ _  
> _
> 
> _And it’s crueler than cruel_ _  
> _
> 
> _It’s long and it’s harder_ _  
> _
> 
> _And it don’t got no rules_ _  
> _
> 
> _Oh I thought I knew what love was_
> 
> _‘Till I met you_

“I …” His question caught her entirely off guard and all emotion slowly melted from her face as she thought about it. “No. I didn’t … ” That was all he wished to hear and as he placed his hands on her body again, he whispered to her. “ _Good_.” It was an unfair statement because he had loved another, hadn’t he? He _knew_ this, but he was rarely a _fair_ person. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he crushed her against him while he nuzzled into her neck. Peppering it with wet kisses, he purred again as his stinger rattling mildly within his chest cavity.

While he littered her neck and smooth clavicle with kisses, she still tried to speak. He didn’t wish to _talk_ about this anymore and he hoped he could _distract_ her with his advances.

“When you’re young … you always think you’re in love with someone, but you’re really just in love with the idea of being in love.” He stopped kissing her as he stared back into her far too serious face. There was something about her words that resonated cruelly within him. “But, I don’t think I knew what love was … even when I married _Sean_ …”

_Sean._

Pushing his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes as she had finally afforded him _a single name_. The name, that in his mind, was the most important one of all of them. The one who’d _hurt_ her.

“Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude as he looked down to her mouth, thinking about how much he wanted her lips at that instant, but she was _still speaking_. _Damnation._ He considered just taking them and halting this conversation fully, but something within urged him to relax and he sighed heavily, resolving himself to kissing just her neck again and again _and again_. 

His lips grazed the scar that he had left there, and he twitched as he revisited it, taking the flesh between his jagged teeth and nibbling on it with more force than he had intended. She winced at this bite but rather than apologize for his action, he bit again, just a little bit harder.

“Quintus!” She pulled back and he grinned wickedly.

“Yes.” That was supposed to be a question. _Whoops._

“I … “ Her face was flushed with red as her hand came to her neck, pressing on the spot that he had just gnawed on, testing it timidly. _Had she thought he might have broken the skin?_ “I was trying to say _something_.” Her heart beat furiously and he gripped her thighs, bucking his hips playfully as he tried to pull her on top of him.

_Enough talking. Damnation._

She pushed on his chest and he gave in to her wishes, begrudgingly relaxing back onto the couch. “Please … _continue_.”

“I thought I knew …” She was staring at his belly button, unable to bring her face up to meet his and he smiled.

“Thought you knew what?” He expected her to say something about his performance or his body or his stamina or _his_ … or anything except what came out of her mouth next. He was so smug, he thought he knew that she was going to say something cute, or clever, or distracting, or …

“I …” She still stared down and he brought her chin up to meet his eyes again. _Oh gods_. He _loved_ the way that she looked at him. Especially right now, but even in that cold, dark factory room, he had _loved_ the way she _looked at_ him. “I _thought_ I knew what _love_ was …”

_Wait … what was she saying …._

“Until I met _you_.”

He closed his eyes, but he wished he had left them open so that he could see her face. But he … _couldn’t_. A twitch escaped as he gripped her thighs firmly and he wished he’d said something immediately in return. But he … couldn’t. Even as everything seemed to slow around him, prolonging this moment for as long as possible could. Quintus froze.

“Quintus?” He heard her ask but his eyes were still closed as tight as possible and he felt himself twitch _again_.

_Damnation_. She did not need to reciprocate this and he felt guilty about possibly forcing her into saying it.

“I did not say it for recipro–” It escaped as a rushed whisper, but she did not let him complete the sentence.

“I’m not saying it because _you_ said it and … I’m not saying it for _you_.” _Open your eyes, you fool._ “I’m saying it for _me_ …”

“You do not need to–” He couldn’t speak louder than a whisper still and his brows furrowed deeply as she interrupted him _again_.

“But I _do_ need to say it. I’m saying it because I _do actually_ **_need_** to say it. I _need_ to _say_ it to _you_ and I _need_ you to _hear_ it.”

_Oh gods, Quintus. Stop being a coward. Open your damned eyes._

He felt her palm on his chest, right over his heart just where he liked to place it when he needed her to _feel_ his honesty and she leaned towards him until their foreheads touched.

“Please.” He said, letting the sweet rush of acceptance spread across his entire body.

“Please what?” She asked him, her voice was nearly sad. “Please don’t?”

“No. Please say it.” His eyes finally opened. “ _I … need it._ I need to _hear_ it.”

_“I love you.”_

He twitched, closing his eyes again while he cursed himself silently for it. He spoke again, almost pleading with her. “Please.” He pushed his forehead against hers. “Again?”

“I **_love_** you.”

He was smiling now as he demanded again. “Again.”

“I love **_you_**.”

When he opened his eyes finally, he found her smiling back. He reciprocated fully now and though she didn’t know _Latin,_ it was easy to _hear_ his words. “[Te amo](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/I%20love%20you.).”

And as he pulled her forward, he knew he’d never touched anyone with such tenderness in _all of his_ long life. He watched her eyes carefully as he pulled his loose shirt up and off of her small body, tossing it to the side and exposing her skin to crush against his fully. As he kissed her and as he brought her up and down over him, he trembled from the words still. As she moaned when he penetrated into her, her voice echoed in his mind over and over, repeating those words to him and he purred into her neck as she rocked atop him.

He didn’t realize that he had been _starving_ to hear those words. _Oh gods._ He had been _famished_.

As he pushed and pulled her hips against him in a rhythmic fashion, he begged _the gods above_ while he beat the tears back from his eyes.

**_“[Non vis relinquere](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Non%20vis%20relinquere.).”_ **

“What?” She asked, but her own question was lost inside of her own growing passion. “I don’t speak … Uhhh …”

He bit back his tears again and as he realized his eyes were beginning to water, he closed them quickly, feeling her body tightening against him as she approached her climax. He would hide his own sadenss from her as he had already asked _her_ not to cry. He had asked her to be there with him now … and not think about _tomorrow_ and now he could not even abide by that himself.

And as her back arched and pressed her _perfect_ breasts into his chest and she reached her euphoric end within his arms, he begged one last time, hoping that _anyone or anything_ would hear his plea.

**_“[Placere. Volo manere. Patitur me manere.](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Placere.%20Volo%20manere.%20Patitur%20me%20manere.)”_ **

_Please. **Please.**_

Once he was sure she was done and she panted, “I don’t speak _Latin_ , Quintus.” He pushed her back onto the couch and found his own culmination very quickly from above.

As the relief of it washed over him and he filled her again, he breathed into her ear, repeating again and again. “Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he snuggled into her skin as he realized how very tired he was. Had he ever felt this type of _fatigue_ before? He’d _never_ found slumber easily after this act before and yet, right now, he felt completely emotionally drained. Without even removing himself from her, he spun their interlocked bodies and he sank down onto the cushions beside her, uttering it one last time before he drifted off.

##  _“Te amo.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI. Consummation of Marriage in Ancient Rome was when the first child was born into the house, NOT when the couple first has sex. Since Quintus is sterile, their marriage could never officially be consummated.


	15. 3.1 - Gone

 

> [Into the West - Annie Lennox](https://open.spotify.com/track/0gSEyG7pOFuHM05433EibX?si=j88hdpeRTtynzkU8Pv1WaA)
> 
> _Hope fades_
> 
> _Into the world of night_
> 
> _Through shadows falling_
> 
> _Out of memory and time_
> 
> _Don’t say_
> 
> _We have come now to the end_
> 
> _White shores are calling_
> 
> _You and I will meet again_

It was a bright flash, _exactly_ as it had been in that damn dream. Burning white, the _Face of God_ itself, in the distant horizon first, then quickly spreading across the entire night sky, making it daytime for a brief and agonizing moment.

The worst part wasn’t that she _saw_ it. The _worst_ part was that she had actually _felt_ it. And what she felt wasn’t a slow fade, as if something was gently pulling him away from her: it was violent and merciless **_snap_**. In one precious, lingering instant, as everything around her slowed down to a painful crawl, he was still _there_ and she _swore_ she saw him reaching out to her. _For her_. She _swore_ she heard his voice deep within of her mind.

 _What was he saying? Was it …_ **_Jabberwocky_** _?_ Was he _… chortling?_  

> **_“ _Callooh … Callay …_ ”_ **

The next moment, he was simply no longer there, in any form. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was the devastating revelation that he was completely gone or the fact that she now felt more alone than ever before, but the weight of her own body was too much to bear and as she fell to her knees, a vicious heat spread across her body like wildfire. She felt herself burning from the inside out, it washed over her skin as it sent her into a shiver.

Gone …

_Gone …_

**_Gone._ **

“ _He’s gone._ ” She barely managed before she collapsed and unconsciousness overtook her.

In the blackness that consumed her, she heard _her old friend’s voice. Her dead friend’s voice._

_“It will get better. I promise you, child … “_

_“It_ **_will_** _get better. But first … “_

 ___"It must get so_ **_much worse._** _”_

In this absolute darkness, it was **_always_** _Ellie’s_ voice. Wasn’t it? _Maybe …_

 _“But before you can be fully_ **_fixed_** _… “_

 _"Before you can understand how to_ **_heal_** _… “_

 _"You must first finish_ **_breaking_** _…”_

* * *

She was _alone_ … on that fucking _rock_ again. Quintus had put her there, purposefully, so that she could not follow him. It was too high and she was unable to leap free. All she could do was stand still as she cried, staring to where the battle had just been … where the light had just illuminated the horizon … when the night had become day for a brief and agonizing moment. There was utter darkness for what seemed like eternity until …

The sun began to rise behind her and she saw her own shadow, long and slender on the ground ahead, quickly getting smaller as the light source rose farther and higher into the sky. It was then that she saw the other shadow as it crept up. Silently and gracefully, it had moved slowly and had encompassed her shadow fully within it before she felt its breath on her neck. She stared at the shape on the ground, understanding immediately what it was. Long, slender, and serpentine. It was too big to be _her serpent_ and when it spoke, its breath was hot and its _voice_ was youthful.

 _“You’re not alone. I’ll_ **__never__** leave you alone. I promise.” It spoke into her, washing over her, encompassing her, consoling her … _seducing her_.

She turned slowly as her tears flowed freely and she looked at this new snake, deep into his face as he bent down to her. His skin had no definitive color as it seemed to be shifting spectrums and alternating with every movement. His eyes were a patchwork of so many colors … and he smiled as he reached out to her.

 

* * *

 

>   
> Mad World - Gary Jules, Michael Andrews
> 
> _All around me are familiar faces_
> 
> _Worn out places, worn out faces_
> 
> _Bright and early for their daily races_
> 
> _Going nowhere, going nowhere_
> 
> _Their tears are filling up their glasses_
> 
> _No expression, no expression_
> 
> _Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow_
> 
> _No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

What was that sound? It sounded like thunder at first … but that wasn’t it. No, it was far too rhythmic, too evenly spaced, too … _wet_.

She was finally awake, but she couldn’t move or see yet, as always. She was getting tired of being in _this_ state … of being _out of control_. If she had full function of her own body, she would have huffed a heavy sigh of disappointment.

She focused on the distant noise that sounded like crashing and she felt her body start to twitch in various places. Her fingers, her toes, her mouth, her nose. As she coaxed her body to awaken, she swore she heard a voice speaking to her and _she recognized_ it from her dream. 

> _“Aurora …”_

His voice was confident, yet hesitant. 

> _“Aurea Aurora …”_

His voice was soft, yet firm. 

> _“The night is over now …”_

His voice was comforting, yet demanding. 

> _“Wake up, my golden **dawn** …”_

His voice was gentle … 

> _“Morning has_ **_finally _** _come.”_

As her eyes began their timid initial movement to open, incredible light flooded in and she winced at it’s painful intensity. It was very clearly daytime and as the ceiling came into focus above her, she found herself looking up at wooden rafters painted white. As her head turned from left to right, she saw that she was in a small bedroom with stark white walls. The bed itself was soft and so comfortable that she almost hated rolling herself off of it, but she did.

As she sat up, her head swam with pounding agony. _Everything_ was so fucking loud right now and she gripped it in her palms. It wasn’t just sounds, _everything_ was loud. The sights, the smells, the feels … 

> _“Breathe …_ **_Focus_** _… ”_

She could _still_ hear that voice. She had _only_ ever heard him in that sweet and precious place between sleep and waking. Usually when she woke, he was gone … God damn, her head _fucking_ hurt. 

> _“Don’t fight it. You can’t fight it. You need to embrace it.”_

Complying with his instruction, she pushed her chest in and out as she focused on her breath and slowly the pain began to alleviate. Slowly she regained composure. She closed her eyes and forced the breath in through her nose and out through her mouth in large draws. As her eyes opened again, she cringed at the light for the second time before a gentle breeze pushed through the open door that led outside.

The white sheer curtains that hung around it danced in the wind and as the air hit her skin, she felt goosebumps scream across every inch of her skin. The power of the feeling was almost painful and she gasped.

“What’s wrong with me?” She asked thin air. 

> _“You’ve_ **_become_** _more … again.”_

“I can’t do this. I … _can’t._ ” She suffered through the words as reality sunk back into focus. Those memories, this new pain … she _couldn’t_ … She whimpered at it all as she fought every desire to lay back down and drift back to sleep. She didn’t want to be awake yet … 

> _“Of course you can. You always could. You’ve_ always been **_stronger_** _than_ **_you_** _realize.”_

“Who are you?” Where was Hathų? Had she abandoned her? Why was _he_ here now? Dawn knew that the middle statement was possible. She’d pushed her away so very harshly … _that day_. She had been so _very angry._

Her question was met with _silence_ and part of her was relieved that the voice was gone now. Maybe it was all in her head, maybe it had always been… she was hearing things _again_. Her concern over her fading sanity was quickly ousted by the painful memories of that day which now threatened to destroy her calmness.

She forced them away.

 _Not now_. She commanded, urging herself to figure out what is going on first … _don’t give into it now_. His name hovered on her lips, _in her mind_ , but she kept her tears at bay as she forced herself to repeat her old mantra, again and again _and again._

Yesterday is dead. _Yesterday is dead. Yesterday is_ **_dead_**.

She waited until the sensations normalized and as she stood finally, she approached the open door, pushing herself out into the staggering sunlight. Squinting, it took a moment for everything outside to come into sharp focus. The thunder that she had heard before was the sound of the ocean crashing against the brightest beach she was sure she had _ever_ seen.

“Oy! She’s awake!” It was Dutch’s voice and as she turned, she was relieved to see the hacker and Fet sitting at a small table on a wooden porch that seemed to wrap around the beach house that she just exited. Dutch was already standing and approaching Dawn as the short woman took in her new surroundings. It looked like they were on a fairly secluded beach, the next houses being a far distance from this one on both sides.

 _God … it was beautiful. And it was very clearly_ **_morning_**.

“How you feelin’, love?”

“Where are we?” She asked quickly as the hacker reached her and gave her a small hug.

It was Gus’ voice that answered her question. He was behind her. Pulling out of Dutch’s arms, she turned and found him walking up the porch stairs from the beach, wearing just a pair of trunks and drying himself off with a white towel. It was obvious he had just come out of the water.

“[Riviera Nayarit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Riviera_Nayarit).” He said with a perfect Mexican accent and Dawn shook her head in confusion, having no idea where that was, but luckily Fet read her confusion.

“ _Mexico_.” Fet called out from the table, his grin as massive as it usually was.

“What? Wait … How did we get _here_?” Dawn blinked. “We were in New–”

“We drove.” Fet smiled.

“You been out for a while again.” Gus closed the distance between them. “You had us worried, shortie.”

Was that possible? They were in New York … _oh god_ … how long had she been out … again? “How long was I … _How long has it been_ … since … ” Suddenly and agonizingly, all of the memories she was trying to keep at bay flooded back into her mind and she couldn’t refuse them anymore. She was trying to breath, but the taste of the salt in the air was overwhelming. She felt herself growing light headed at the sensation of it.

Dutch pulled away from her and locked eyes with Fet as he was already standing. Everyone had heard the crack in her voice and they knew she was about to break down. Gus spoke softly. “It’s been three days. You been out for three days.”

Her face contorted and she couldn’t hold back the inevitable sob that escaped it next. Gus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight so she could bury her face into his chest. Dutch retreated to Fet’s awaiting arms so that they could share their own condolence.

 _“I’m so sorry.”_ Gus said, over and over again as she found herself weeping uncontrollably into him.

 _Stop this. Stop it._ But she couldn’t, everything was so fucking _real_ right now.

She pulled back slowly and carefully, hesitation laced deep in her voice. “Is it … is it over?” She barely managed to ask before Gus nodded.

“Yeah, it’s over.” She allowed him to embrace her again, but not before she had spied someone standing on the beach, watching her intently from afar. Dawn already knew there actually was no one there and no one else had noticed the figure either. She stared just for a small moment as the woman looked at her from across the distance, her white dress blowing in the salty beach breeze.

Plowing her head back into Gus’ bare chest, she tried to calm her grief. It was at least a full minute, before she pulled back and looked out onto the beach again. She’d expected the apparition to be gone, for her mind to have clarified the vision, but the woman _still_ stood there and she smiled directly at her.

No … it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. _She was dead …_

 _But, oh god, how she’d missed that smile_.

 _Ellie._  

* * *

 

>   _Three days earlier._

Dawn had collapsed and Gus couldn’t wake her but this had happened before and she was still breathing. He had scooped her up into his arms and taken her to the van immediately, laying her across the back row of seats carefully.

“We gotta get _the fuck_ outta here!!! We don’t wanna be downwind of that fall out!” Fet rushed as the breeze from the direction of the light kicked up fiercely. He finished up the tire replacement before running into the house to collect anything they might need. Grabbing his belongings and the remainder of the weaponry bag that Quinlan had left them, he threw it into the van and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“But where are we gonna go?” Dutch questioned as she pulled herself into the passenger side, slamming the door quickly behind her.

“ _South_. Away from the blast.” Gus _commanded_ from the very back as he seat-belted the unconscious women in before he climbed over the seats into the middle row of seats. He was usually so quiet, but something was ignited within him. “ _We go south_ … **_Mexico_**.”

“Mexico?!” Fet questioned immediately. “Dat’s a hell of a drive man, I don’t–”

“No. He’s right.” Dutch stared Fet squarely in the face as the Ukraine furrowed his brows at her. “We need to get the fuck out of the US right now. We can’t stay here. None of us can anymore.”

Fet seemed confused at the statement at first and Dutch pressed on with a rushed explanation. “If Q and Eph were … “ She paused as she fought back the emotion that nearly escaped, her voice quaking with uncertainty. “If they were _successful_ , then we need to worry about more than just the strigoi right now. We’re all wanted fugitives.”

“ _Fuck_.” The giant man nodded suddenly. “We save da world and–”

“I’m a terrorist, love. And everyone in this van is my _known accomplice_.” She buckled her seatbelt and Fet started the van, pulling it out of the parking spot quickly as he peeled out in the frozen mud.

“Yeah, but why Mexico? Isn’t Canada closer?” Fet argued again.

Gus shook his head from the back. “I ain’t got no idea how to hide in Canada, but I don’t think we wanna drive north up through that _shit_ , right?”

“I guess … “ Fet argued again. “But–”

“‘Sides … “ Gus countered. “I know a place we can go. If we don’t gotta stop, it’s only a [two day drive](https://www.google.com/maps/dir/Syracuse,+NY/Viva+Riviera+Nayarit,+Saigon,+63732+San+Francisco,+Nay.,+Mexico/@31.5617063,-99.5026617,5z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m14!4m13!1m5!1m1!1s0x89d9f39bbf979a0d:0xd50ce2d7ad9545!2m2!1d-76.1474244!2d43.0481221!1m5!1m1!1s0x842116279426b985:0x125a652052d4ceed!2m2!1d-105.4080224!2d20.896223!3e0).”

“Sounds great, but I _will_ have to pee at some point.” Dutch laughed. “Where’re we goin?”

“ _Riviera Nayarit_. There are islands. We’ll be safe.” 

 

>   
> All My Love - Led Zepplin
> 
> _You’re always on my mind, oh there’ll come a day_
> 
> _Day where we can fly, reach the glory haze_
> 
> _High up in the sun and a brighter sky, sun and a brighter sky_
> 
> **_Only love will make us ache_ **

She sat at the small table outside and stared at the crashing waves while Dutch explained that they’d driven _nearly nonstop_ south … through the border and directly to the pacific coast. She listened without asking anything, because she honestly barely cared. Dutch was always so long winded and she couldn’t focus on anything right now but strange little details about the trip, but Dawn didn’t even listen to most of it as her mind wandered often.

She heard what she needed.

She _accepted_ that they had to leave the States. This saddened her, but she had already understood that _everyone_ she had known was _gone_ and the government knew of her involvement with Dutch and … with _Quintus_.

She _accepted_ they were on an island, [Isla María Madre](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isla_Mar%C3%ADa_Madre). This was a good plan, considering if the strigoi were still active, they couldn’t cross water. She understood this was a excellent idea and it was Gus’, but he would repeat over and over again that it was _Angel’s_. When she’d ask him about Angel, he wouldn’t say much, only utter the words, “ _Angel’s gone._ ” _Fair enough._

She _accepted_ they were just biding their time there. The island was fairly populated, but the house that they were occupying was abandoned _for now_. They had no idea when the owners would come back and for now, they would all sit around the radio and wait for the broadcast everyday at 6 pm. Gus would translate and relay the information of the current strigoi outbreak. Things were getting better it seemed. There were reports of the infection losing speed, though many infected still roamed freely.

And finally, she accepted that this meant that _the Master_ was gone and they had likely won. _“Won.”_ She accepted that this also meant, Quintus was gone. But she didn’t need the radio to reassure that, though Fet, Gus, and Dutch did. She _felt_ it.

Something in the world was now quiet … quieter than it had ever been before.

##  _**Acceptance.**_  


	16. Commission Art - The Dream

##  **[A Savage Inconvenience, Chapter 15, Part 7:](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/156591211068/chapter-15) **

 

> **“You are not alone, my child.  You have never been alone.”** It spoke Hathų’s words towards her, into her, washing over her, encompassing her, consoling her … seducing her.
> 
> She turned slowly as her tears flowed freely and she looked at this new serpent, deep into his face as he bent down to her.  His skin had no definitive color, it seemed to be shifting, and alternating with every movement.  His eyes were a patchwork of so many colors … and he smiled before he struck her with his fangs, catching her in his arms as she collapsed.
> 
> She was not afraid.  Alone, but not afraid.  Sad, but no longer afraid.
> 
> As the venom overtook her, he held her so very close and tight in his arms, placing gentle kisses as he stroked her, calming her, easing her away, until her life finally slipped away.
> 
> There was something peaceful about this …

##  _**♥ ♥ ♥ Commission by[@girlandgeese](http://girlandgeese.tumblr.com/) ♥ ♥ ♥** _


	17. 3.2 - Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it won’t continue to just be sad. There is quite a bit of action planned and exciting parts for the future of the story, but I also didn’t want to just wash over the grief that something like this would cause anyone.

There was a single boat and a single dock that jutted off of the rockier part of the small house’s private beach. They had stolen the little motor boat from the marina on the mainland when they first arrived and Gus would take it around the island to the small towns that were littered across its eastern shore every other day for news, to ‘survey’ for infected, get supplies if needed and talk to the locals for any _other_ information.

This annoyed Fet quite a bit. It was clear he was getting antsy, but it was quickly decided that a giant, non-spanish speaking Ukrainian man would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the tiny towns. The radio gave them little information, but whatever it did afford them was still appreciated. There had been a lull in the outbreak, but after a week, it had reared its ugly head again as all of the leftover minions had likely started to become self-aware. At least this was Dutch’s assumption and it seemed to make the most sense. The other explanation was that the _Master_ had taken that long to find another body again, but when no further _strategic_ attacks were reported, the lingering concern died out over the next few weeks.

Dutch was pretty damned excited when the TV stations started to come back up and though she didn’t know Spanish, she’d sit in front of it with wild fascination for hours on end as the news would show blurbs from all around the world. From what they could gather so far, the Eastern and Western parts of the United States were, by far, hit the worse in the entire world.

By the end of it, they were estimating that most of the population in those areas were decimated by more than 95%. In the state of New York alone, the estimated casualty loss was well over eighteen million and growing. The effects of the nuclear detonations were going to keep driving that casualty number up for years to come.

Aside from the US, the next hardest hit was Russia and northern Germany. In total, the news reported there had been three nuclear explosions total. Two in New York state, which to them were all too familiar and a third in the southern mountains of Russia, just north of Mongolia. All three attacks were attributed to terrorist groups as no government took ownership of their responsibility.

Slowly, the hours rolled into days and the days rolled into weeks. While everyone tried desperately to keep themselves busy, there was an ominous stress that remained present. Even in this _paradise,_ they were still unable to fully accept that it was _actually_ over. Old habits die hard and they still took watches in shifts and kept an eye on the road and the beach at all times.

No one would admit it, but they were secretly hopeful that their missing friends would just show up one day. Fet played the same scenario over and over in his mind as he sat out on the dock, with his fishing pole and watched as his floater bobbed up and down on the warm waves.

He would imagine looking up and there would be Ephraim and Rebecca, driving a similar boat to the one they had stolen, and the half-breed would be hunched over in the back with his hood pulled completely over himself, hiding from the vicious tropical sun.

It’d happened before, right? They’d all thought he was dead and the _bloodsucker_ had just showed up again days later … _right_? When no one would come, Fet would shake his head and reassure himself, “They don’t even know where we are … dat’s it. I knew we shoulda left a note.” Dutch and Gus had similar thoughts, but eventually they all came to realization that it was nothing more than _denial_ at that point.

 _Almost everyone_ secretly hoped … _everyone_ except Dawn. She took watch more often than the others, but it wasn’t for the reasons they had all assumed. Gus would watch her sit out on the sand for hours and hours, staring into the horizon. He knew that some nights, she wouldn’t even sleep. Some nights, she was in the exact same place that she’d been at sunset as she was when he’d wake up and see her the next morning.

He would stare at her from the window, while he took a sip of that terrible instant coffee. “She ain’t sleepin’.” He noted one morning and Dutch looked out the window with him.

“I’m sure she is, love.” The hacker tried to assure him.

“She ain’t eatin’ either.” He shook his head. When Dutch said nothing in response, he stared out the window as his brows furrowed heavily. “I caught her talkin’ to herself _again_ yesterday.”

“We just need to give her a little time. I think we _all_ need to give ourselves a little bit of time.”

“How much time though?” Gus shook his head again. “How much time though? It’s been weeks. What are we doin’ here? We don’t got no money and we can’t eat fish for the rest of our lives.” He turned to her and slowly walked over to the table as he eased himself into one of the small wooden chairs. “We … can’t stay here forever.”

“Hey … this was _your_ idea.” She reminded and he nodded.

“Yeah, I know. I know.” They had been in such a rush to flee the country that they hadn’t really given much thought to any long term plans yet.

Dutch fumbled some papers out of her pocket and opened them, staring at the fancy writing within. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. You think you can get me a laptop next time you go to town?”

Gus crinkled his nose at the question. “What da you need that for? We don’t even got internet out here.”

Smiling, Dutch sat down next to him, “I’ll also need a sat phone.”

Gus balked at her request. “You think I can find a _sat phone_ here?”

“It’s an island. They are bound to have them. Or, just a VSAT dish would work too.” She pushed again.

“Chica, I don’t even–”

“How ‘bout I come with you this time then?”

“Why’s this important?” He asked and she shrugged, staring at her papers again.

“I just need to check on something, is all.” She flashed him a mischievous smile and he nodded in compliance.

 

* * *

 

> _The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_
> 
> _It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do_
> 
> _I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you_
> 
> _And I’d never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you_
> 
> _What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way_
> 
> _What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you_
> 
> _What a wicked thing to say you never felt this way_
> 
> _What a wicked thing to do to make me dream of you_

She took watch more often than most, but it wasn’t for the reasons they had all assumed. It wasn’t because she was secretly hoping they would show up. She _knew_ that wasn’t going to happen, because she _felt_ it when he was _gone_.

She took watch simply because she didn’t seem to need to sleep as much as the others, not anymore. Whatever Quintus had done to her, when she had _slept_ again, she had woken up changed even more. She tried to fight it at first. She tried to sleep the first couple of days, desperate to no longer be awake, but she found she could sleep no more than three hours a night without getting restless. As of right _now,_ she had been awake for two straight days and she didn’t feel fatigued at all. In the end, she decided it was a blessing as she was tormented by that same dream over and over again.

_Fucking snakes._

_The torment of the dream itself was two-fold._

_First_ , it was in this precious moment, when he would pluck her out of the wind and hold her for just a few seconds and she could _see_ him again, feel his touch … even _smell_ him. It was like a terrible reminder of what was now _gone_.

 _Second_ , it was after this precious moment that she would watch the light spark through the sky and she would feel the violent jerk of him _snap_ out of existence again and again. It was like her own personal _hell_. She would get him back, only to have him ripped away instantly … repeatedly.

To make things worse, it wasn’t just the sleeping that had changed; she was rarely hungry anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure if it because of the _sadness itself_ or because she didn’t require it anymore, so she would force herself to eat when Gus was watching. He seemed to notice many of the changes and to get away from the constant worry and scrutiny, she would go out to the sand and sit quietly to watch the horizon in peace.

Many things weighed on her mind, but the one that caused her the most distressed wouldn’t go away. She’d watched the apparition from afar for days when she awoke, hoping it would just _go away_ , but it didn’t. Soon, it approached her closer and had even started to talk, but she refused to give it any attention.

“I wish you’d just talk to me.” It said … It? She. She had said. _Ellie had said_.

Eventually, she had given into her incessant pushing and started to respond. Ellie could be quite convincing when she wished.

“I wish you would just go away.” Dawn had barked, never taking her eyes off of the distant horizon. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’m here because _you_ called _me_.” Her dead friend sat down into the sand next to her. “I’m here because you wished it.”

“I didn’t _wish_ it.” Dawn had argued.

“Then send me away.” Ellie said. “Just like you sent away your other _little spirit_.”

“My _other_ spirit?” Dawn had scoffed. “You know about her?”

“I know everything about _you_.”

“I just … I want to be alone … “ Dawn said again, biting back her rageful tears. She hadn’t cried since that first day, when Gus had held her in his arms and she told herself she wouldn’t cry now.

"No, you don’t. If you _really_ did, I wouldn’t be here.” Ellie said as she placed her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “If you _really_ did, then I _couldn’t_ be here.”

The shock of actually feeling the touch caused Dawn to cringe suddenly, but as she turned to face her friend, she gasped. “Are you … _really here? Is it really you?_ ” Her desperation was so powerful right now.

“ ** _Is who really here?_** ” The Boxer asked from behind her and she spun around, seeing him approach her with a blanket. As he often did when the wind kicked up and she smiled at him.

“No one. Sorry.” He laid the blanket down across her shoulders and she pulled it tightly around her, enjoying the comfort of it more than the warmth it would provide. She didn’t really get _cold_ anymore. “Sorry.”

“Me and Dutch’re gonna head to town. Just wonderin’ if you wanted to tag along. You know, check it out with us?”

“No … it’s O.K. Maybe next time.” Dawn turned and looked directly into her dead friend’s eyes. “Thanks for asking … “

“Are you sure Shortie?” He pushed gently.

“Yeah … I just wanna be _alone_ right now.”

_Ellie smiled._

##  **Depression.**

 

* * *

 

“I never realized _paradise_ would be so … “ Dutch squinted out at the bouncing ocean as she screamed back to Gus while he navigated the boat across the waves with ease. She trailed off as she lost her train of thought the moment a big wave bounced her violently to the right.

Gus offered a completion for her sentence. "Bright?” He laughed at his perceived joke and she shook her head.

 _“_ ** _Boring_** _!”_ She screamed to him. There is only so much sun-bathing, fishing, swimming, and relaxing that she could stand. It wasn’t like her to relish in being lazy; she was always needing to be _doing_ something. Either learning something new or building something or shit, even _drinking_ something.

So, she was ecstatic to finally get out of that house and also to check on the papers that had been _burning a hole through her pocket_. They’d been holed up there for a little over two weeks now and she’d made _zero_ mention to anyone about the numbers that Q had given her. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but in reality she was terrified of looking into it. If she went through with this, then she was accepting the reality of the situation.

 _They weren’t coming back_.

“Chica, you got some problems.” He laughed at her disclosure and she shrugged.

“You just realizing that?” She laughed madly.

The town itself was smaller than she assumed. People gave her lingering stares, but she knew they likely didn’t get many outsiders here, and considering the apocalypse that just* almost* happened, their weariness of strangers was more than expected.

She tagged along as Gus traded fish for drinking water, rice, and milk. _More rice, wonderful._ Wandering onto the sidewalk while he flirted with the young woman at one of the fruit stands, it only took Dutch a few minutes to spy a convenience store with the proper dishes on the top of it. It took even less time to pester Gus into asking the store owner if they had internet access. One adorable flash of his smile and the older woman was eating out of his hands. _Lucky Bastard._

As they shuffled into her back office and Dutch sat down in the desk chair, she pulled the papers out of her back pocket and unfolded them, setting them down to the side of the keyboard.

Gus was increasingly nervous about the whole thing. “What’s that?” He pointed to the papers.

“I’m not sure yet. That’s what I’m checking.” It was a non-answer and he didn’t seem to notice.

“You sure you should be doin’ this? Can’t _they_ track it?”

Dutch giggled a bit. “I’m _not_ gonna check my email or anything.”

“Oh. Ok. Then–”

“Can you just … I don’t know … gimme a minute?” Dutch pointed to the door and Gus shook his head.

“Whatever. Imma go look around at all the shit _we can’t buy_ then.”

Dutch looked at each piece of paper for a moment and decided to check the shared accounts he’d given to the three of them first. There were four accounts total on that list. “Let’s see … “ She muttered to herself as she logged into a couple of proxies and began the laborious task of punching in the first account number.

##  **_$55,689.23_ **

She nodded her head and smiled. "Not bad, not bad. That’ll be more than enough to square us away here.” She gleefully punched in the next number and frowned at it.

##  **_$8,699.12_ **

She shrugged and punch in the next, expecting an even lower number, but it was comparable to the first and she smiled again. Good good.

##  **_$87,915.39_ **

It was when she punched in the last account on the piece of paper listing what Q had left for them to share, that she partially stood and clumsily knocked the rolling chair out from underneath her. The momentary stagger sent her crashing to the floor as she hit her jaw on the edge of the desk. The force of the blow was enough to cut her lip and attract the attention of Gus who had come rushing back into the room.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He questioned as he looked at her shocked face. She was wiping the blood from her lip with a trembling hand, but she was also smiling. She tried to say something, but she just pointed to the screen as only a laugh fell from her open mouth.

Gus stared at the screen and he shook his head, dumbfounded. “What is it?”

“It’s ours.” She said and Gus squinted at the screen.

“What da you mean that’s ours?” He couldn’t tear his eyes from the number and she laughed again, squeezing his arm tightly.

“That’s ours. _That cheeky half-breed bastard_ … He left that _for us_.” Dutch hit him in the shoulder, but he was still unable to rip his eyes from the screen. “That son of a bitch … _Bloody hell_. We’re …rich. _We’re fucking rich._ ”

##  **_$67,194,294.28_ **

Silence fell over the pair as they stared at the screen and Dutch asked an important question next. “Please tell me they have a Western Union here.”

_**“[Santa mierda.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23es%2Fen%2FSanta%2520mierda.&t=MGI5ZjE0M2ViMmYwNDQwNzVkM2I1YzMxMTQyYTFkZmFjMWE4ZmM0Nyw1ZUlyczQybQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159120983643%2Fchapter-32-gone&m=1)** ”_

* * *

> _When the tears come streaming down your face_
> 
> _When you lose something you can’t replace_
> 
> _When you love someone but it goes to waste_
> 
> _Could it be worse?_
> 
> _Lights will guide you home_
> 
> _And ignite your bones_
> 
> _And I will try to fix you_

“Stop that.” Ellie said to her _again_ and Dawn looked at her friend wide-eyed and innocent. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I didn’t _say_ anything.”

“You don’t need to say _anything_. I already know that you’re thinking it.” Ellie said as she tapped the side of her temple. “I can hear you …”

“I … “ Dawn stared off into the horizon as the waves crashed onto the beach in front of her. She liked it out here because it was _so fucking loud_ and she still hadn’t gotten used to the sounds that were now _everywhere_. Every creak of every door, of every breath, of every word. Fet was now the loudest breather she’d _ever_ heard and it had gotten on her nerves more than once. Dutch bites her fingernails _far more often_ than she ever realized before and Gus. He was far too concerned about her and he was _constantly_ trying to make her eat. At least, out here, there was relative peace. “If I had never gone for that interview …”

“You can’t dwell on that _past_.” Ellie waved her hand in the air. “They would have _come_ for you, if they couldn’t have brought you to them.”

“I …” Dawn’s shoulders slumped dramatically as she pushed her open palms as far into the warm sand as she could before bringing them up slowly as the grains fell back down to the ground. “If I hadn’t escaped … He would–”

“You think _his_ life was that much more important than yours?” Ellie balked at her statement. “That doesn’t sound like _you_ at all.”

“Yeah … well … I’m a different person than who you knew.”

“No.” Ellie chuckled almost madly. “You really aren’t. And you know that. You are better than this … _moping_.”

Dawn’s frown was massive and her friend shrugged to her. “I’m not … _mopey_. I’m …” She didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling. She was … _broken._ “If I didn’t help them with the geolocation–”

“He would have found the _Master_ eventually. You know _that_. You know _him_.”

“Knew.” Dawn corrected as she fished a shell from the sand and chucked it a couple of feet to the right.

“Sorry. You _knew_ him.” Ellie corrected her language from her relaxed posture.

“If I hadn’t led him to that _fucking_ lake. If I hadn’t trusted that native–” Dawn glared at the ocean as she furrowed the bridge of her nose.

“How long are you going to do this to yourself?” Ellie asked plainly. “We can be doing something _far more productive_ than sitting around and–”

“It’s _your_ fault.” Dawn’s tone deepened as she accused and shock ran across Ellie’s face. “ _ALL of this is YOUR FAULT._ ”

“My fault?!” Her hands coming to her chest as she pointed to herself. “How the hell is _this_ my fault??”

“You bought me that DNA kit for Christmas.” Dawn snapped at her quickly. “If you hadn’t–”

“And if _you_ hadn’t actually mailed it off …” Ellie began to deflect but quickly pulled back her statement, as it was _not_ helpful right now. “Besides, you wanted to _find_ yourself, remember? If none of this happened, you’d still be that little, fat mathematician that couldn’t get _laid_.”

 _Oooof_. That was … _fucking_ harsh, but that’s what she _loved_ about her friend. She had _never_ held anything back, even the painfully obvious.

“I don’t care. _He_ would still be alive. He would still–”

“Do you think _he_ was really alive then either?” Ellie’s voice was laced with condescension. “Do _you_ think _he_ would give up the last _two months_ for another _two thousand_ years of … _whatever the fuck he was doing?_ ”

“I don’t know …” Goddamnit, why did this have to hurt so _fucking much_? “I don’t know what he _would_ have done. But it doesn’t matter, he can’t do _anything_ anymore.”

Ellie said nothing in response, but only sighed heavily at Dawn before the thoughts recursed yet again.

“If I hadn’t _fallen_ into that water … If that branch hadn’t–”

“There is _nothing_ you could have done.” Ellie said again. “There is _no way_ you could have prevented this.”

“If I had just made it to _The Black King_ , then I could have–”

“You weren’t strong enough back then. You wouldn’t have been able to get _anything_ out of him.” Her brown-haired friend countered. “He would have _never_ told you what you wanted to know.”

“I can be … persuasive.” Dawn furrowed her nose as she made a firm fist and punched the sand in an annoyed manner.

Ellie chuckled. “I know you can, but … I doubt you would have even made it there. Even if you had made it across that creek, Quinlan would have stopped you before you even made it to _Barqan Abu al-‘Adja'yb_.”

“You don’t know that.” Dawn whispered. “There are so many variables at play that–”

“There is no way you could have stopped it. And there is no way that you could have convinced Quinlan to not go through with it.” She placed her hand on her shoulder and Dawn closed her eyes tightly as she could _feel_ the touch. _She really was going mad now, wasn’t she?_

“He wouldn’t even … _consider it_.” Dawn bit back the quaking sadness within. “We could have trapped the _One_ –”

“He _was_ telling the truth, sweetie.” She looked up into Ellie’s face with pleading eyes. Did she _really_ need to hear this? Why would Ellie be taking _his_ side on this?! “There were forces coming that would have been _far worse_ than _this outcome_ , but …” The breeze picked up and blew wisps of Dawn’s hair into her eyes and Ellie reached out and tucked them back behind her ears again. “He wasn’t _entirely_ honest with you that day … He didn’t tell you _why_. They made him _choose_.”

“Choose what, exactly? Choose to _kill_ himself?” Dawn scoffed. “They offered him vengeance and he took it. It was _always_ about vengeance …” She fished a shell out of the sand and threw it into the sea as hard as she could, actually impressed by the distance that she was able to lob it.

“No, you goof ball.” Ellie’s smile was always so warm and understanding for her. She enjoyed seeing it, even while her dead best friend was _arguing_ with her. “The choice was _you_. He’d been given this same **_choice_** before.” Her grin was brilliant, “And _they_ knew he would make it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Dawn’s lower lip quivered. “He _didn’t_ choose me. He _left_ me.”

“You don’t get it yet, do you?”

“Get what?” Dawn opened her eyes again and stared at her dead friend’s face. “What _don’t_ I _get?_ ”

“ ** _He_** would have _never_ let you stop it.” Ellie stated _very_ simply.

“You underestimate me. Just _like_ everyone else. _Everyone always underestimates me._ ” Dawn sneered and stared down at the warm and bright sand, picking up a fistfull of it and letting it fall back down between her fingers. “Quintus wouldn’t have been able to _stop_ me. When I put my mind to something–”

“No, _Aurora_.” Ellie purred to her quietly through a tiny, smug grin. “Unlike _everyone_ else in your _entire life_ … **_I have never underestimated you._** ” Dawn locked eyes with her and Ellie shook her head carefully, touching her jaw and turning Dawn’s face to face hers fully. “Besides … _I wasn’t talking about_ **_Quinlan_**.”

“Then _who_ are you talking about?” Dawn questioned as Ellie’s smile only widened.

“HEY SHORTIE!” Gus called from the porch and Dawn whipped around to see him waving at her. “Can you come in for a few minutes? We got some news.”

Dawn pulled herself up from the sand, looking down at her seated friend. “Who then?” She asked and Ellie shrugged.

“Let me guess … you know but you aren’t gonna tell me?” Dawn was suddenly disgusted with her dead friend. Dangling information in front of her like she was some dancing monkey. “You are just like Hathų.” She stared at Ellie’s bare feet and she shook her head. _Liar._

“No. I am _not._ I am **_nothing_** like her. I will keep _nothing_ from you.” Staring back out to the ocean, her brown-eyed friend sighed heavily. “And I will … I _will_ tell you _everything_ that you want to know. In fact, I will tell you _more_ than you’ll ever want to know. But, first you have to understand that it will change _everything_. Nothing can _ever_ be the same if you know the truth.” Ellie looked back up into her green eyes as as she delivered the last sentence, goosebumps ran across Dawn’s skin like wildfire. “But, right now … Your friends are waiting for you.” She nodded her head to the house and looked back to the ocean. “ _They have important information for us._ ”

Dawn took a step before turning back. There was something _off_ about all of this, but she pushed the feeling aside. “You’ll be here when I get back?” She realized she didn’t want to be _alone_ after all.

“Of course I will.” Ellie nodded and smiled again. “I _always_ am.”

##  **Bargaining.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this?
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	18. 3.3 - Gone

>   _We are ghosts_
> 
> _We are ghosts_
> 
> _We are ghosts amongst these hills_
> 
> _From the trees of velvet green_
> 
> _To the ground beneath our feet_

“M-m-millions?” Fet gulped. “Dat’s crazy … Did you say … _millions_?”

“A little over sixty-seven million, to be exact.” Dutch said as she shifted nervously from side to side, still holding the piece of papers in her hands as she folded them, unfolded them, and then refolded them. “For the _three_ of us … That’s around twenty-two million each.” She was trying desperately to not _sound_ happy, but the nervous glee in the pit of her stomach was extremely distracting.

Each time she glanced over at Dawn, she could see the woman just staring at the papers in her fidgeting hands. She hadn’t said _anything_ yet and this was starting to make Dutch increasingly anxious.

“Wait … _three of us_? Who’s left out?” Fet questioned logically.

“Well … he said _this was for us_.” She waved one of the papers in the air and brought her index finger around in a circle, pointing out herself, Fet, and Gus. “And he said _this_ was for _you_.” The last statement was directed towards Dawn and she offered her the piece of paper timidly.

Never taking her eyes from the folded square, Dawn accepted it from Dutch’s offering hand and she stared at the outside of it silently, running her fingers over the ‘D’ that Quintus had impressively scripted on the very outside of it.

“And what’s in dat one?” Fet pushed again and Dutch took a seat as Gus finally spoke up from his rigid stance behind Dutch.

“More.” The boxer cleared his throat and said simply.

Dawn wasn’t asking how much. She wasn’t saying a _bloody thing_ yet and Dutch took a deep breath in, questioning if it had been _too soon_ to look into this …

Fet couldn’t stand the anticipation though, and he asked again, like the big child she _knew_ he was. “But … How much more?”

Dutch took in another deep breath and tried to coax the number out of her mouth, but Gus took the lead and she was relieved she didn’t have to _actually_ voice it. She had no idea how to _not_ sound excited and she _knew_ that was the wrong thing to convey to the tiny and ridiculously quiet woman right now.

“A little over _Four Hundred and Eighty-Six Million_.”

“ _Holy … shit_.” Fet sat down finally and shook his head from side to side. “I don get it. When did he give you these?” She could read it all over his face. He was still in mild denial.

“Right before … “ She paused and swallowed deeply. “Right before … you _know_ …” Bringing her hands up to her throat in a choking matter she made a pathetic gagging sound before she realized it was likely a bit _insensitive_. “I mean … right before _it_ happened.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Fet pressed and Dutch slumped in the chair, locking eyes with him as she shrugged guiltily.

“I didn’t know if … if the world was over … “ Her head rolled down in shame and she admitted out loud what everyone had been keeping to themselves over the last weeks. “I was hoping … _maybe they weren’t gone._ ” _Don’t cry. Don’t do it._ She kept her emotions in check knowing she had one final thing to disclose.

Fumbling the letter from her back pocket, she handed it to Dawn, who was _still_ just running her fingers over the cursive ‘D’ on the outside of her folded paper. Given her lack of reaction to anything, Dutch had considered holding onto the letter until later, but it was best to just get it _all_ out in the open.

“And this.” Dawn accepted it and looked at the name and address on the outside of it carefully. The handwriting was exquisite and she ran her fingers over the name before opening the envelope slowly, carefully pulling the letter from its protective sleeve.

Before she had unfolded it fully, Dutch explained further. “I don’t know what it says … well, not exactly. It isn’t for us and it’s in –”

“Italian.” Dawn interrupted, finally saying _something_ as she finished the hacker’s statement.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip tenderly before telling Dawn exactly what Q had told her when he’d given it to her. “It’s for _Antonio Ferrari_. He’s … “ She hesitated on _saying_ his name, but plowed forward anyways. “Quinlan’s Estate Manager.”

“But …” Dawn’s voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible as she ran her fingers over the ink of the letter, ultimately ending on the marvelous signature at the bottom as she touched it gingerly. Her middle finger ran across it several times as she drew a deep breath, mustering the strength to finish her sentence. “You don’t know what it says?”

Dutch shook her head. She didn’t know Italian and there were only two things in the letter that she could decipher with certainty. ‘Diana Meadow Maxwell’ and ‘Quintus Sertorius’. “Not specifically. No. If we get a laptop, we can translate it, but I didn’t have time. All I know is he said it was instructing _Antonio_ to give you _everything_.”

“Everything? There’s more? What else?” Fet asked again and Dutch shrugged.

“I don’t know, love. I _really_ don’t. He didn’t really say much.”

“Yeah, sounds like him.” Fet laughed in bitter remembrance.

“I’m thinking real estate? Investments? _Everything_ that’s _not_ cash, is my assumption.” Dutch offered.

“Goddamn.” Fet said and everyone sat in utter silence for a painful moment before Dawn stepped toward the table. Dutch really wasn’t sure what would happen next, but the look on the short woman’s face was _not_ one even on her short list of expectation. What she saw was pure _anger_.

Dawn threw the papers down violently on the table as she sneered towards them. “I don’t want it.”

“Shortie–” Gus started, his hands dropped from their crossed position as he stepped forward, reaching out for her.

“I don’t want _it._ I don’t _want_ his money.” She said again, but with more force and volume. “You can keep it. I don’t fucking _want_ it.”

“He didn’t want _us_ to have it. He wanted _you_ to have it.” Dutch tried. She didn’t know how she would feel in this situation either. Any amount of excitement that had fostered was gone and now she just felt like a total ass for even bringing it up.

“Wanted.” Dawn corrected plainly. “But it doesn’t matter what he _wanted_ anymore … does it? It doesn’t matter because he’s gone now.”

“Yeah, but he wanted–” Dutch tried as she looked up. _Goddamn_ she felt like such an ass.

“ _He’s gone._ ”

No one moved and no one spoke. No one was sure what to say and Fet fidgeted in his seat as Dawn started to move towards the door and Gus reached out for her again, but she pulled powerfully out of his grip.

“Shortie–”

“He doesn’t want _anything anymore_ , because he’s **_dead_**.” She waved an angry hand towards the table and the papers that were strewn across it. “Give it all to charity. I don’t _fucking care_.”

The door slammed and the three stared at the table with quiet awkwardness.

“Oy.” Dutch shook her head. “That went … _terribly_. It was too soon to bring this up.”

“No.” Gus countered. “It would have always been _too soon_.” Looking out the window, he watched her take her place back in the sand as the wind blew her hair in its violent torrential force. “She’ll come around.”

“So … uh … “ Fet shifted uncomfortably again. “What do we do now? Do we stay here? What’s da plan now?”

Dutch shrugged. “We need to go to the mainland to get access to it, but …” She smiled just a bit as she made a suggestion she’d been keeping to herself. “We can actually buy _our own island_ now …”

“ _Islands_ …” Fet’s eyes grew wide as the reality of it actually sunk in. Suddenly, something else sunk in and he furrowed the bridge of his nose. “ _Waitaminute … you guys went to town without me?!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“ _Uh oh_ … You aren’t happy.” Ellie noted as Dawn stared into the sand, her eyes filling with tears again … _finally_. She’d kept it together until she’d made it out the door but then her composure went to hell.

“I don’t _want_ his money.” Dawn whispered carefully as she longingly gazed out across the crashing water.

“I know.” Ellie said.

“ _I don’t want his money._ ” Dawn repeated again. _She didn’t want his fucking money._

“I know you don’t _want_ it …” Her friend said simply and firmly. “But you _need_ it.”

“I don’t _need_ anything.” Dawn balked at the implication of her statement. “Why would I need _that_?”

“To _exist_.” Ellie stated plainly.

“I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t need _his help_ anymore.” Dawn scoffed at the statement as she beat her fist into the sand. “Even in the end … I guess I was just a _whore_ to him.” Goddamn it … Why couldn’t she just let it go? “In the end … he did _pay me for services rendered._ ”

“Oh please.” Ellie shook her head at Dawn in absolute disapproval. “You do _not_ pay a whore _that much money_. This wasn’t _payment_ for anything and you _know_ that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This _isn’t_ like you.”

As she glared furiously at her best friend, Dawn retreated back into her mind as she ran over the scenario again and again. Replaying the amount in her head and she felt nauseous over the mere thought of it.

She didn’t _need_ his money. She didn’t _need_ anything from _him_. _How could he have_ **_ever_** _thought that was a good idea?!_ Goddamn it, she was _so fucking mad_. Why was she _so mad?!?_ Why did he think this was a _good idea?!?_

Ellie argued with her hidden thoughts. “Because it _is_ a good idea.”

“Stay out of _my head!_ ” She snapped and Ellie just shrugged innocently, undeterred by Dawn’s outburst.

“It _was_ a good idea, because he wanted you to be taken care of.”

“Because he didn’t want to _feel guilty_ about leaving?!” Dawn sneering and dug her heels into the sand as she kicked at it furiously. Biting back the urge to just stand up and run, she clenched her jaw tightly. She wanted to run. She _needed_ to run. To just get up and _leave_. She could make it on her own … without _his_ help … _without anyone’s help._

“Running away isn’t the solution. He didn’t _just_ leave. I already told you … he had a choice. And he chose–”

“He chose to leave.” Fucking ass. She sighed deeply as the anger flowed over her entire body. In all honestly, it felt good to _feel_ something other than … emptiness. It felt good to _feel_ something other than _numbness_.

“Do you really think he _wanted_ to leave? Do you really think it was his first choice?” Ellie’s voice wasn’t coddling, soft, or meandering. It was firm, direct, and focused. She was stating the obvious and Dawn, though she didn’t wish to hear it, knew it was _the very thing_ that she needed to hear. “If it wasn’t him, then it would have been _you both_.”

“Why? That doesn’t make _any_ sense.” Dawn shook her head in powerful defiance. She still felt like she didn’t know _everything_ and she needed to know, but Ellie only stared at her patiently. “What’s … “ Dawn stuttered. “What’s _wrong_ with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you … _not anymore_. He fixed you.”

“You said you’d tell me.” _Goddamn it. Why can’t anyone just be fucking straight with her?!_ “So tell me.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for it quite yet.” Ellie sighed. “It will change _everything_.”

“So, you’re a liar.” She stared at Ellie’s bare feet and she repeated it in her mind. _Liar. She’s a liar._ “You don’t even know.”

“I’m _not_ lying to you. When you’re ready, I _will_ tell you everything. But right now … You won’t believe me and you _need_ to be open for what I need to tell you.” Placing a hand on Dawn’s, Ellie leaned her head over and rested it on her friend’s shoulder in an intimate way. “When you are actually _ready_ to listen, then I’ll tell you _everything_.”

“But … I don’t _want_ his money.” Dawn repeated again. Just the thought of taking it sickened her. “I … don’t … _want_ … it.”

“I know. I know you don’t want his _money_ … ” Ellie gripped her hand tightly. “ _You want him._ ”

“Who did this?” Dawn asked finally. _Would she not tell her anything at all?_ She’s such a _liar._ “You said **_he_** would have never let me stop it … _Who_? Can you at least tell me that much?”

Ellie brought her head up and looked squarely into her eyes as she brushed the tears and sand from her spotted cheeks.

_**“Your grandfather.”** _

##  **Anger.**

* * *

>   _You, you make me weak_
> 
> _Yeah you, you bring me to my knees_
> 
> _And all I ask of you_
> 
> _And all I ask of you_
> 
> _Is baby, please don’t leave me_
> 
> _You are all I ever need_
> 
> _Oh baby, baby, baby_
> 
> _If you’re leavin’, leavin’, leavin’_
> 
> _You would only, only, only_
> 
> _Take from me, me, me_

The sun finished its slow and meandering path through the heavens until it hit the skyline and now she was just left with a retreating rich pastel hue of purple and blue spread across the horizon and reflected at the water’s edge. The breeze would start blowing again, as it always did at this time, right at the beginning of _dusk_ and she would welcome it. She preferred the coolness of it to the heat of the day, even though the sun didn’t seem to burn her anymore and she liked how it would make her hair dance in its embrace. Damn, she needed a haircut.

She was changed in so many ways and it continued to terrify her. Quintus had told her not to shy away from her gifts, but he was gone now and she had no idea how to deal with any of it on her own quite yet. As the moonless night consumed the entire sky, she sighed as the porch light illuminated the sand all around her from behind and her shadow stretched out, almost long enough to touch the waves which crashed relentlessly against the perfect sand.

“You _aren’t_ alone.” The apparition to her side assured her but she ignored it fully as she wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them firmly to her chest, burying her head into the dark crevice within.

Eventually, she heard someone clumsily approach from behind and she pulled her head up to see her own shadow disappear as a larger one completely encompassed it from behind as they stood behind her.

“I’m not cold.” She assured the figure, whom she was assuming to be the boxer with his offer of the blanket again but as she turned and squinted up to the figure, she realized it was actually Fet. He stood still for a moment, gripping a towel in his hand and he smiled nervously.

“Dat’s ok. I’m not cold either.” He lowered himself down onto the sand where Ellie _had_ been, but at some point the ghost had vanished and Dawn was somewhat relieved. She actually missed Hathų, Ellie was … _different_ and it unnerved her a bit.

“Sorry … I thought you were … “ She trailed off and Fet shrugged heavily.

"S’okay.” They sat in silence for a quiet moment before he was driven to speak again. She knew Fet didn’t like silence very much. It seemed to drive him a bit antsy. “Wow … it’s really _peaceful_ out here, isn’t it?”

 _Well … it_ **_was_**. She bit back the retort and simply nodded to him as he deeply breathed in the salty sea air and sighed out loudly. He’d never come to visit her out there before and she wondered if he had been sent out here to retrieve her, having drawn the short stick.

“I’m sorry for my … _outburst_ … I dunno–” She started to make an apology. She wasn’t sure if she actually meant it, or if she just wanted him to go away, but he talked over her.

“Dat’s ok.” Fet said, staring out at the water as he shifted that strange towel into his other grip, holding it tightly as he circled it around in his grip. “I think it’s a shock for everyone, ya know?”

Heh. Of course she knew. She would have just nodded in response, but he wasn’t looking at her, so she felt forced to speak again. “Yeah.”

“I know everyone deals with stuff on their own … and in der own time … but … we can’t stay here.” Fet finally said. “We need to decide what to do _next_. And you need to be a part of dat decision.”

“You don’t need my input to decide what you guys want to do.” She said coldly.

“Yeah, we do.” Fet leaned over and nudged her playfully with his massive shoulder. “Cause, we’re all in this together now. We’re _family_.”

“You guys can do whatever you need.” She shrugged. _Family_ wasn’t something that held very good _connotations_ for her. “I’m not _your_ responsibility. I’ll be fine on my–”

“Yeah, I got no doubts on that … but _we_ won’t be. You three’re the _only family_ I got left now. Gus got no one … Dutch doesn’t know. Do you? Do you know if you have family left?” Dawn shook her head at his question. Seeing the maps on the news and the devastation that occurred on the West coast, she was certain the _Master_ had followed through on his threat and took _everyone_ from her. She cringed at the thought that it might have been _why_ there was so much destruction there to begin with. “So … we ain’t going nowhere unless we _all_ go. ‘Sides, we’re kinda tied together now. _Fugitives and all._ ”

Dawn had no idea what to say to that and the next silence that ensued was almost painful and she felt driven to break it, but luckily the big man spoke first.

“You a religious person?”

Dawn blinked. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but this question caught her completely off guard. “No.” She shook her head. “No, I’m definitely _not_.”

“Me neither.” He looked from the water down to the sand and then to the towel that he fumbled in his large grip continuously. “Not really, at least. I mean … I was raised Catholic but … _it didn’t stick, ya know?_ ”

“I wasn’t really raised _anything_.”

“I can see the appeal of it now though.” Fet said in a gentle tone as he looked back out to the water. “I couldn’t before, you know?”

“What do you mean?” She stared down at the towel and asked quietly. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at and she didn’t _need_ his clumsy efforts to _comfort_ her right now.

“I mean … thinking dat da people we love … “ His gaze shifted from the water to the sky as he smiled. “Are _still_ out there. Right now … together and _happy_. Mom and Dad, Da Professor, Da Docs … Q.”

“But they aren’t.” She countered, playing with the sand as she often did, trying to distract herself from the conversation. “They’re gone.”

“Yeah … but … I dunno though.” He laughed out loud. “I think da professor is too stubborn to just … _vanish_. I like to think he’s in Heaven being … _difficult_ , huh?”

“If there _is_ an afterlife …” Just the thought of this caused Dawn to smile slightly. It was a nice sentiment, even if she didn’t buy it entirely. “I bet he is … being _difficult_ that is.”

“I know he is.” Fet’s smile grew wider as he nodded to himself. “It’s just a _feelin’_ , ya know? But I _know_ he is. Gettin’ into trouble.” Fet laughed at the thought of it.

“What if you’re wrong?” She took a deep breath, in through her nose, exhaling slowly from her mouth as she forced her anger down inside. “ _What if they aren’t anywhere anymore?_ ”

“If you really believed that … then _who are you talkin’ to out here all the time_?” Fet asked directly and the question caught her entirely off guard. This was the second time he’d surprised her tonight and she grinned slightly.

“Talking to?” She feigned innocence.

“Dat’s ok. You know … “ He looked out across the waves, squinting at the bright moon that had just started to raise above the horizon, breaking into the distant sky with its soft white light. “Sometimes I _talk_ to the Professor too. It makes me … I dunno … it makes me feel like I’m still _connected_ to him. Like, maybe he can hear me, yeah?”

“I’m …” Dawn blushed slightly at the revelation that they _all_ knew she was talking to herself _again_. “I’m not talking to … _him_.” Should she qualify that with a name or did he know?

“Maybe you should then.” Fet offered. “It might help.”

“I don’t wanna talk to _him_.” Her tone was entirely devoid of emotion and it even surprised her as it escaped her lips. “ _He’s an asshole._ ”

The candidness of her statement caused him to laugh out loud and as his chuckle trailed off, he nodded aggressively. “Hell yeah he _is_.” The emphasis was placed on the present tense of that verb and she knew it was _strategic_. At this moment, she felt as if she’d never given the big man enough credit. “You know … I was mad too. For a while, I was _really mad_ , but I realized it didn’t matter. We shoulda saw it coming.”

“Maybe … but he had no right–”

“He woulda done whatever he wanted no matter what anyone said and there ain’t nobody who coulda stopped him. I didn’t know him for very long, but I _knew_ dat much. I don’t think _anyone_ other den maybe the Professor himself coulda talked him outta anything.” Fidgeting with the towel again, his eyes became serious as he furrowed his nose. “I don’t know if der was another way, but right now, _dey_ saved the world. As much as I hated da Doc, he came through, ya know? Surprised da hell outta me.”

“I know. I don’t _think_ there was _another_ way. I accept that.” Dawn pulled her feet onto her lap, crossing them under her as she placed her hands in her lap. “But … that doesn’t mean I have to be _happy_ about it.” She had just … even finishing the thought now scared her, she had wanted to _go with him_.

 

> Ellie was back again and she heard her voice from the opposite side as Fet sat. “You shouldn’t be happy. _You should be_ **_angry_**.”

“I’m not sayin’ you have to be _happy_ about how it went down. But, you _aren’t alone_ , huh?” Fet’s expression became pensive as he looked down at her. Even sitting down, the man towered over her and she sighed heavily at his words. “You don’t gotta sit out here and _talk_ to yourself. We’re here. You can talk to us.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but the words _hurt_ coming out and she suddenly wanted to apologize for apologizing. She knew that would turn into an endless cycle though and moved on to her next thought. “It’s not you guys … I just … “

“I mean … I’m not sayin’ I know what you’re going through either. I know it’s not da same. I got Dutch and I am so _fuckin’_ grateful for dat.” Fet looked upwards at the last sentence and then back down to his strange towel before he chuckled lowly. “Did you know I didn’t even _know_ about _you two_ until dat last day?” Another chuckle ensued. “I mean … how stupid am I, huh?”

Dawn looked at him wide-eyed as his laugh actually caused her to smile just a tiny bit. “I’m actually not sure there was _anything_ before that last day. He _knew_ he was gonna die and I think–”

“What? Nah.” He interrupted quickly. “No. When I think back on it now, I was just _fuckin’_ blind.” Shaking his head back and forth, his smile widened again. “Did ya know … I caught him listening to you and Dutch on the roof dat one day?”

“What?” Dawn scrunched her nose at the revelation. “What do you mean _listening to us_?”

“Yeah!” Fet was incredibly amused at the disclosure, finally happy to get it off his chest. “He made me promise not to say _anything_ , but now it makes _total sense_. I dunno what you guys were talkin’ about, but he was _all over that conversation_ , like a goddamn _beagle_.”

He had been … _eavesdropping_ on them? On her?? She was amused by this fact as well, it seemed. It made her feel both _good_ and _sad_ that maybe he had been _interested_ in her even before she had made her _fumbled_ attempt to kiss him in the tunnel that day.

“What _were_ you guys talkin’ about?” Fet’s eagerness to know was childlike and she grinned at his excited face.

“Boys … I mean … _men._ ” Dawn chuckled in slight embarrassment. _Oh god._ She didn’t even realize she still knew how to laugh. There was a particular stinging guilt associated with this and her smiled faded quickly. She shouldn’t be laughing. She shouldn’t be _happy_. “Well, it was actually mostly Dutch. She was talking about _sex_. She wanted to hook me up with Gus.”

“Dat explains it.” Fet was quite proud of himself now and he continued on. “Thinking back, it was even before den too … Did you know he threatened to _bleed me_ for you?”

“ _To bleed you?_ ” Dawn looked at him surprised. “When was that?!?”

“When he first brought you in.” Fet nudged her again. “He was totally prepared to hold me down forcefully and let the Doc stick me. I got no doubts about dat.”

“He thought he needed information from me.” She shrugged it off. “I said something to him–”

“Nah. No. It was _not_ dat.” Fet grinned again. “I ain’t never seen him _like dat_.”

“Like what?” She pressed.

“Panic’d. Worried.” His voice grew light as he winked at her. “ _Smitten_.”

Dawn blushed furiously at his last word and her instinct was to immediately deny such an assumption. “No, I don’t think–”

“You know it’s true.” Fet shook his head as he nudged her again. “I know you _know_ it.”

Knowing _that_ was so very _bittersweet._ This wasn’t making her _feel_ better. This was making her _feel_ worse. What was the point of it? Did he know that he was just ripping her heart completely open … again? “I don’t want to think about these things. I don’t want to think about _them_.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Goddamn it. He was such a big kid. “But, I do … constantly. And I don’t want to think about dem alone anymore. I don’t wanna remember _alone_ … not _anymore_.” He fidgeted with that damn towel again. “Did you ever hear how we met him?”

Dawn shook her head and he continued with his tale, a giant grin on his face the entire time. “Me and da Professor went to check out a lead half-cocked and we were _basically dead_ … you know … six feelers. Der’s no way. I couldn’t even get a shot off at _one_ of dem. In walks this _strigoi_ with a _fucking bone sword_ and twin uzis and takes ‘em all out. BAM BAM BAM. And dat was just _the first time_ he saved our asses. I ain’t never seen nothing like dat.” Fet’s smile grew so wide, his dimples became visible. “Me and da Professor, we couldn’t even kill _one_ of them and BAM … all six. Just _gone_. Dat _bastard_ didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Heheheh.” She giggled a little bit. “Sounds like him.” She was actually smiling now. _Goddamn it Fet_. “I don’t think he sweats though.” Did she just use the present tense on that verb?

Fet slapped his leg loudly and the suddenness of his action caused her to jump a bit and he was laughing under his breath as if he just remembered some hidden joke. “And you know what else?!”

“What?” His enthusiasm was entertaining.

“You know, I found you an atlas, huh?” He was smiling while he spoke. “I _knew_ where one was. I seen it the week before.”

“You did?” Dawn doubted his statement. “But you never gave me–”

“Dat bastard was waiting on the porch when I got back.” Fet shook his head. “He took it from me.”

Dawn’s mouth fell agape and she stuttered. “He … he did?” Fet nodded, laughing under his breath. “What the hell did he do with it?”

His shrug was exaggerated and he breathed out deeply. “I dunno. I thought he was an ass for it, ya know? I thought he was just controlling and manipulating, forcing you to stay because he needed ya.”

“That sounds about right …”

“Nah, I don’t think dat’s it.” He nudged her again. “Thinking back … He didn’t want ya to leave.”

Dawn found herself frowning at that revelation, not really sure how to internalize it quite yet and Fet sighed heavily again before grinning. “Man, dat feels good to get off my chest, huh?”

“Yeah?” She asked and he nodded merrily.

“I felt like an ass for not sayin’ anything. I felt like his _sneaky_ accomplice, but I had no idea it was because he was … you know.”

She was shocked by the statement. “Wait, so you would’ve been O.K. with _keeping_ me there if–”

“I’m not sayin’ dat. I’m saying I woulda been more understanding, huh? And _for love?_ I wouldn’ta been so mad at him, nah. It woulda made him more _human,_ ya know?” Fet relaxed his posture as if a great burden had been relieved from him. “You know you women drive **_us_** crazy right? Our brains go all _funny_ when you’re around. Apparently, even _immortal_ , sword wielding half-breeds too.”

“I’m sorry.” She said. This _wasn’t_ making her feel better. Didn’t he see that? She didn’t _want_ to know these things. “I don’t want to talk about _this_ –”

He shrugged off her statement, interrupting her sentence entirely. “I know it hurts.” He said as his face grew solemn and serious. “But dat’s the debt dat we owe to the dead. Dat’s da price we pay to _stay_.”

“What’s the price?” She didn’t want to pay _any_ price to stay.

“Dat no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much we don’t wanna think about them not being here anymore, we have to. Dat’s the burden we _have_ to bear. The memories are the only thing dat keeps them alive now and dat’s our responsibility, yeah?” He paused for a moment. “To remember them, no matter what. As long as we remember them, some part of them is still alive … ”

And now she understood what the point of it was and what the point of his story was. It didn’t matter what it was _doing_ to her, _he_ just _needed_ to talk about it too. He _needed_ to remember it, to remember _them_ and suddenly she found herself needing to as well as the tears welled up in her green eyes, but she successfully fought their escape. Fet scooted closer and put his arm around her, pulling her tightly to him as he wiped his own eyes. He’d completely hidden his own crying but now being this close to him, she could see his eyes were swollen and puffy.

“Yeah.” There were minutes of silence and it was almost deafening before she finally asked him, pointing to the towel. “So, you gonna go for a swim or what?”

“I … I … uh …” He sighed and she tensed up as he suddenly became nervous. “I found dis in the bag weeks ago. I dunno why, but I put it away. I didn’t wanna open wounds, yeah? But … I think you should have it.” He opened the towel to reveal that it was actually hiding something and as her eyes looked down at it, her heart sank profoundly.

It was the handle of Quintus’ bone sword. As she reached out to touch it carefully with her right hand, Fet moved the towel and set it entirely in her lap.

“I didn’t even realize he still had it.” The last time she’d seen it was in that stairwell, after the rocket and before she _saved_ him. So much for not crying, as the first tear streamed down her face, hitting the corner of her jaw as it fell to the sword handle beneath, she couldn’t hold the barrage of them back any longer.

“It was in the bottom of da bag. I think he was expecting to get it fixed. I mean … it’s old, so I bet it’s broken before, huh? Dang … I don’t even know _how_ he broke it.”

She found herself picking it up and gripping it tightly as she smiled, remembering wrapping her arms so tightly around him as he jumped from the window with her in his strong embrace. “Well … There was a _rocket_.”

Fet’s eyes grew fascinated and child-like again. “A _rocket_?”

A simple and genuine chuckle escaped her as she remembered the jump from one high rise to another and she nodded. “Yeah. There was a _sniper_ too. It was after he _saved_ me from the _Master_.”

“Now dat’s a story I wanna hear.” She looked up to his face and she was now _so very_ glad he had come out here. She’d never been very close to Fet, but right now, she realized how lucky she was to have him … to have them _all_. “It’s ok, right?” He pointed to the sword. “I didn’t wanna upset you, but it’s ok I gave dat to you?”

“Yeah.” Dawn nodded as she set it back down on the towel as if it was incredibly fragile. “It’s ok.”

“Good. I was worried, ya know.” He confessed. “How you reacted inside, to da letter, I didn’t want you to just … like … chuck it out into da ocean. I’m not a very good swimmer.” He paused for a moment and whispered quietly. “I actually don’t know how to swim at all. Kinda dumb to be on an island, huh?”

Both of them laughed at his confession and she found herself turning to him fully to give him a warm hug. “ _Thank you._ ”

“Was there …” She hesitated in asking, but her curiosity got the best of her. “Was there _anything else_ in the bag?” She was wondering about _the locket_ and he shook his head. It hadn’t been in his pocket at the cabin and she found herself wondering what the _hell_ had happened to it.

“Nope. Just extra ammo and guns for us and _that_. I’m sorry I kept it from you.” He apologized. “I was just … I dunno … waitin’ for the right time, I guess?”

“It’s ok.” Her tears were subsiding as she touched the weapon again, appeasing something deep within her that wished so desperately to reconnect with the dhampir. She didn’t _have_ to be alone. Not anymore. “And … I’m not talking to _him_ … but … I think there’s something wrong with me.”

 

> “Don’t tell him _anything_. He’ll just think you are **_CrAzY_**.” Ellie stammered from her other side. “You don't’ want to get locked up like your father was.”

“Like what?” Fet pushed, concern lacing his question.

“Like … _I’m hearing things again_.” She confessed as she ignored Ellie’s continuing requests for her to keep quiet.

“Again?” Fet was confused. “So, you heard ‘em before?”

“Yeah. I hear voices.” Best to keep succinct and concise. If she was going to stay with them, they had a right to know about her _craziness_ , right?

“Huh.” He nodded simply. _Just … huh?_ He wasn’t even shocked? “I mean … What do they say?” She shrugged. Did he want a rundown of everything or just an overview, but he spoke again quickly. “They ain’t tellin’ you to kill us all, right?”

“No. No.” Dawn chuckled. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” He smiled, shrugging. “Den it’s fine. We’ll work it out.”

“It’s … “ She began again. 

> ” _Do not tell him._ “ Ellie asked again, there was a pleading in her voice.

"It’s what?”

“It’s more than that.” She stared down at the towel and remembered Quintus’ words to her that day. _Do not shy away from your gifts_. “I’m different now …”

“Different how?” He asked, sounding profoundly confused by her statement. “You look the same to me.”

“I can …” She gulped. 

> “Don’t.” Ellie said again and Dawn ignored her … _again._

“ _I can hear your heartbeat._ ” She said it in a tiny whisper and Fet was taken aback by the confession, furrowing his brows deeply and then seeming to consider it for a moment.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and bit her lower lip, looking at his face in an attempt to read some sort of expression from it and he stared out to the water, furrowing his brows further.

“Uh … Dat’s kinda cool. I mean …” Did he just say _cool_? “I mean … you don’t wanna drink _my blood_ or anything, huh?”

Dawn found herself giggling at the question and she suddenly loved the way this man could defuse even the most _serious_ of conversations. “No. No.” He had made her smile _yet again_.

“See!” Clasping a hand on her back he smiled again. “No problem den, huh? You just gotta talk to _us_ about it. We’re all in dis together now.” 

> “You are being foolish.” Ellie said. “They can’t understand what you are going through. _You_ don’t even know what it is yet. _Only I can understand your ache_. Only I know what it’s like to–”

“O.K.” She interrupted the voice and agreed with Fet full-heartedly.

“I do wanna hear about the rocket though.” He pressed and she giggled again at his childlike enthusiasm. The anger dissipated and even though the sadness lingered, it felt so good to let some of it out into the open.

“We were in this high rise condo–” She started to tell her tale.

“Come on.” He shifted, pulling his arm away from her and fumbling to his feet. “Come tell _everyone_. I don’t wanna have to retell it to Dutch later. She’s asks too many questions.”

“Do you really think …” Dawn looked up at him. “Do you really think they are _happy_ … _wherever_ they are?”

“I do.” He offered her a hand to help her stand but she ignored it, only nodding slowly. There was something reassuring in that sentiment, albeit sad and she bit her lip again, remembering the _locket_ and the implications of her statement. “Just gimme a minute, O.K.?”

“Sure. But you are gonna come tell us dat story?” He smiled and asked and she nodded. As he began to turn, he hesitated, spinning back around and pointed at the towel. “Don’t throw dat in the ocean though, or we’ll have to get Gus to fish it out.” He chuckled at his own joke and walked back to the house alone, giving her a quiet moment to herself.

When she finally stood, brushing the sand away from her thighs and butt, clutching the towel to her breasts, she turned towards the apparition, who was still visibly annoyed with her disclosures to the giant man. Dawn glanced at Ellie’s bare feet yet again. _Liar._

“You _can’t_ trust them.” Ellie said, trying to plant doubt. “They don’t understand what you are going through.”

“I don’t know if you’re real or not, but I don’t _need_ you anymore.”

“You _will_ need me again. Don’t you want answers?”

“No. I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore … _Yesterday is dead._ ”

As she began her slow journey from the beach, _from being alone and broken_ , into the brightness of the house’s interior, she turned back around and found that the woman had vanished entirely.

_Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was … _interesting_ to write. I went back and forth quite a bit about how rich Q possibly is. In the end, my Beta reader disagreed with me until I showed them the calculations and logic behind this assumption.
> 
> Beta Reader: BUT, if Q was this rich, he could have just bought the Lumen instead of having the Ancients back him.
> 
> Answer: Why? At the time, Q didn’t care about the Lumen at all. He was just being the Ancients emissary on the matter. Not until Abe mentioned it as bait did he become interested. After its purchase, he was just gonna turn it over to his uncles anyways.
> 
> Beta Reader: That’s really too much money for him to have. Doesn’t make sense. The Ancients only had like 300 million themselves.
> 
> Answer: No. The Ancients had over 323 million in GOLD sitting in some random account that they gave Setrakian access to. There is NO WAY the Ancients would have given Setrakian ALL of their money. Absolutely not. They still had SHIT TONS . It is canon that they helped facilitate the creation of the A-Bomb to begin with and you don’t do that without substantial influence. They were richer than Palmer and Palmer had ‘billions’.
> 
> Beta Reader: But, that’s the Ancients, not Q.
> 
> Answer: Q is smart, pragmatic and damn old. This is just his liquid assets (cash), not his valuables nor his estates (which I am sure he has many). With a little research ([check this site here](http://observationsandnotes.blogspot.com/2011/08/stock-market-dow-growth-calculator.html)), “An investment of $100 in 1900 would be worth over $2,500,000 today”.
> 
> Also, like I said, liquid assests. I’m sure he has lots of valuable squirreled away somewhere. _[The last Van Gogh that sold went for $67 million, while Picassos have gone for upwards of $181 million](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_most_expensive_paintings)_. And that is just art, I’m sure he has priceless relics and weapons galore.
> 
> As sad as it is to say, it’s actually not that impressive to be a millionaire anymore. As of 2017, [there are 2,043 Billionaires in the world](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_World%27s_Billionaires). I have no doubts that Quinlan, adding up his entire net worth, would be one of those.


	19. 3.4 - Gone

The dream was always changing. Each time it seemed to slowly morph from one thing to another but … it _always_ began the same.

She was _alone_ … _on this fucking_ **_rock_** … unable to leap free and she fell to her knees as she stared down at her hands, but this time she wasn’t crying. She was tired of _crying_. Gripping the metal bar tightly in her little fists, she took deep breaths and waited patiently.

A light shone bright behind her and it seemed artificial and intense, casting her shadow long and slender on the worn concrete ground ahead of her. She now could see fresh spray paint haphazardly strewn across it in various places and as her eyes floated up from her lap, she could see she was in an old worn factory, not entirely unlike _her factory_ … As recollection washed over her, she realized it _was_ her factory. She was _home_ again.

A clap of distant thunder. This was always how it started and she felt her muscles tense. It was _then_ that she saw the other shadow approaching slowly from behind her. It had moved silently and its shadow had entirely encompassed hers before she heard its heartbeat. Strong and dangerous, just like _hers_.

She stared at the outlined shape on the ground, understanding what and _who_ it was. Tall, broad-shouldered, and masculine. His voice was _calm_ and _firm_ , just as she remembered it.

_“Dawn.”_

**_“Hello Grandfather.”_** She fiercely sneered through clenched teeth as she increased her grip further on the intricately carved bar in her hands and her leather gloves squeaked with the pressure against the metal shaft.

Mr. Parker’s voice echoed from the deepest part of her vast memory …

> _“Remember,_ **_little one_** , _they can’t attack you if they_ **_can’t stand.”_**

 

* * *

> _Saw the future in my crystals_
> 
> _I’m dancing with the devil_
> 
> _Picture me with his crown_

She woke with a violent jerk. Panting heavily, she stared up at the dark ceiling. It wasn’t morning yet and _there was likely several more hours of darkness before sunrise would finally arrive_. She _really_ hated not being able to sleep through the night anymore and she grumbled to herself as she rolled out of the warm bed, bending her neck carefully to crack it as she sat on the edge of the bed, she coaxed herself to stand. Everyday, she was growing more and more restless.

The others wouldn’t be up for a while and she usually spent this time jogging around the perimeter of the entire island, shuffling through the sands and jumping across the rocks on the southern bank. For all intents and purposes, she liked _this island_ better than the last. It was much smaller and definitely more intimate.

It had now been two months since Dutch had confessed the existence of the money that _he_ had left them and once they had been able to access it, they left [Isla María Madre](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isla_Mar%C3%ADa_Madre). It turned out that _buying_ one’s own island was trickier than the hacker had assumed, but _leasing_ a private island was actually quite easy, especially if one had truckloads of _cash_. The only catch to that was that the only one they were able to find on such short notice came fully staffed.

It took them all weeks to get used to and trust the presence of the handful of people who shuffled about the island among them. Gardening, cooking, cleaning, all the things that they had gotten used to doing themselves, but once they let go of those responsibilities, there was a particularly painful boredom that each of them had to come to terms with.

They had decided to stay in Nayarit for the time being, as travel was more risky now that the governments were meandering back to _some_ kind of functionality. But, it was ok, because _this_ island was basically _theirs_ , at least for the next three years that the lease would afford them.

The land was ten acres of _absolute paradise_ , beaches circling nearly the entire coastline. The compound itself housed several buildings, including a greenhouse, where Dawn found herself spending _nearly all_ of her time. The plants – as opposed to her friends, the ocean and the goddamn wind – were completely silent. It was the only place that she found _adequate_ peace.

Dutch focused all of her attention into setting the area up with communications almost immediately. Ordering tons of equipment and helping Fet install motion sensors and cameras around the entire island, she spent most of her time reconnecting with the technological world that she had _almost_ destroyed. Dawn laughed at the number of dishes that slowly popped up on the rooftops of nearly every building. There seemed to be a new one each day and Dutch would just shrug it off. “I ain’t gonna be offline _ever again_. Never.”

Two months, but she still didn’t feel like this place was _home_ yet. As she pulled on her clothes, she stopped at the dresser and touched the sword handle that rested upon it and smiled. “Good morning.” As Fet had said, it was her duty to remember and she embraced that responsibility full-heartedly now.

“ _Good Morning._ ” Ellie responded from the doorway and Dawn fought herself from acknowledging her presence. Barely looking down, she spied Ellie’s bare feet in the corner of her peripheral vision. _Liar._ She focused her attention on the dresser to ignore her entirely. She wasn’t talking to _her_ ; she was talking to _Quintus_.

Fet had been right too. Talking to the dhampir, _even if she knew he was completely gone_ , had actually helped to ease her ache, if ever so slightly. The sadness was still unflinching, she knew it would _never_ fully go away, but talking had helped her let go of the rage that she was harboring towards him, towards the situation … _towards everything_.

He was _gone_. **_Yesterday is dead_** _and tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet._

 _“You really don’t need to ignore me.”_ Ellie mused, leaning up against the wall as she crossed her arms across her tiny chest. Yes, she actually _did_ need to _ignore her_ , and she’d done _just_ that for months. It was fine. It would all be fine. “ _I’m not going anywhere._ ” Dawn smiled because she knew _just_ how to make her go _somewhere_.

She picked up Ephraim’s old flask from the dresser top and began to unscrew the cap as Ellie sighed. “ _That isn’t gonna work forever, you know. You’re still changing–_ ”

“Cheers, Doc.” She interrupted the voice as she took several full swigs of the vile liquid. She heard Ellie sigh heavily again before she heard _complete silence_ and Dawn chuckled to herself as she turned to verify that the apparition was _gone_. Quite proud of herself, she screwed the cap back on as she shook the liquid within to gauge its remaining volume before quickly tucking it into her back pocket. She’d need to fill it up again and she’d swing by the kitchen before she hit the trails.

_Excellent._

Well … it was either _talking to Quintus_ that was making her feel better … or it was all the whiskey, but either way, she felt more _numb_ to things now and at least it helped in keeping her visions at bay.

As she finished tying her shoes, she pinched the fat that had started to accumulate at her side and hip area as she shook her head in increasing disappointment. She was gaining weight _again_ and she breathed out deeply before she set out on her arduous jog around the area and hopefully to burn calories away.

 _Cardio_ , she reminded herself. _It’s important._

Ugh … goddamn it, she really fucking hated _cardio._

* * *

 

“Right, yup. No problem.” Dutch said into the phone. “I understand. Yup.” As Fet entered the kitchen, she made a choking motion as she lifted an imaginary noose above her head and he laughed.

“While the letter appears to be authentic, I am sure you can understand, we will need the correct paperwork to expedite this process.” His Italian accent was thick but easily understandable. Dutch was at least happy that he spoke _English_ flawlessly, it made their numerous phone calls _less painful_.

“Yup. I will absolutely get that right over to you as soon as possible.” She assured him.

“This would all go much faster if I could just _speak_ with Mr. Ser–” He had started to ask, _yet again_ and Dutch interrupted him immediately.

“As the letter stated, he will be _indisposed_ for _quite_ some time.” She repeated _again_. The letter itself had been very cryptic, naming a variety of things that she assumed would clue Antonio onto it _in fact_ being from Q.

“ _Yes_. **_Yes_**.” Antonio said in acceptance, however he’d accepted it before … several times, but he still asked _every time_ she spoke to him. “He has taken similar leave before, but _this request_ is quite … _unusual–_ ”

“I think we can both agree that the world over the course of the last year has been filled with … _unusual things_ , yeah?” She was so tired of arguing with this man.

“Yes. It is quite understandable.” He would always pretend like he was _alright_ with the situation until he would call two days later with another delay.

“So, I will get you the paperwork you require, Mr. Ferraro.” She spun her coffee cup around in her hands before she took a big drink from it. “It shouldn’t be an issue. Is there _anything_ else that you require?”

Fet shook his head from across the breakfast nook table and smiled as Dutch spun her fingers forward in a circular motion, wishing the long winded man would just hurry up. In all honestly, she understood completely why he was nervous. If she was Q’s estate manager, she would be _nervous_ as well.

_“Thank you, Mrs. Smythe.”_

“It’s _Miss_ , actually, as I’ve said many times. It’s not a problem at all. And _thank you, Mr. Ferraro_ , for being so understanding.” She rolled her eyes, wishing the conversation was finally to a point where she could hang up the phone, but the man still had _more_ to say, concern laced his voice.

“If all of the paperwork is in place, I will do exactly as _he_ has instructed, but it is still quite _unusual_. I do not think I need to warn you, if _any_ part of this is _not exactly truthful_ , Mr. Sertorius is _not_ someone that you would want to _cross_ or even _steal_ from, Mrs. Smythe.”

“Oh trust me, love. I am _very well aware_ of _that_ fact.”

“My family has served the Sertorius _estate_ for many generations, and I would pity anyone who might chose to–”

“Mr. Ferrero, I would think you should heed your own warning. Your hesitation to carry out his wishes sounds just as … _worthy of pity_.”

There was a few uncomfortable seconds of silence and Dutch smiled as he finally spoke again. “Very good, Mrs. Smythe. I look forward to the paperwork.”

She might have said goodbye, but the man hung up before she had a chance to and she slammed the phone down on the table as she shook her head.

“Ah come on! You _love_ talking to that man, huh?” Fet smiled as he stood, making his way to the coffee machine for a top off, but stopping halfway to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Q warned me, at least. That man is an _insufferable bastard_.”

“Should you even be worrying about all of this? She doesn’t want any of it. She even told _us_ to keep her part of da money.” Fet shrugged as he filled up his cup and fished around in the fridge for the creamer.

“I’m gonna do what Q asked me to do. Maybe she’ll come around eventually, maybe not, but I’m gonna do what he asked me to do because _that man_ is correct.” She pointed at the phone as her eyes grew big.

“About what?” Fet shook his head. “She ain’t gonna be happy with you.”

“That Q isn’t someone you wanna _cross_ , eh?” She shrugged. “Even if he’s _dead,_ which I am _not_ entirely convinced of, I’m still more afraid of _him_ than _her_. That bloody bastard might crawl up out of his own grave and kill all three of us if I don’t follow his last wishes.”

“Fair enough. Dat’s damn right.” He chuckled to himself as he slid back into his chair, asking curiously. “So what paperwork you need?”

Dutch grinned slightly, her mischievous eyes showing through as she unlocked her phone and began search her contacts for another number. “I need to call Jackson again. I’ll just need to get some more _documents_.”

“ _Uh oh …_ “ Jackson was a friend from Dutch’s old life who had specialized in forgeries and counterfeits. Fet didn’t like him, as she and him had a bit of _history_ , but he’d been integral in helping them _become_ new people in this new post-apocalyptic world. “What kinds of things?”

 

* * *

> _Take my mind_
> 
> _And take my pain_
> 
> _Like an empty bottle takes the rain_
> 
> _And heal, heal, heal, heal_
> 
> _And take my past_
> 
> _And take my sense_
> 
> _Like an empty sail takes the wind_
> 
> _And heal, heal, heal, heal_

It wasn’t bad at all once they accepted their new lives. Everyone fell into a nice groove and soon, two months turned into three, three into four, four into five, and it felt as if everything was _nearly_ perfect. They had been given back the families that had been taken from each of them and everything was _peaceful_.

 ** _Dutch_** continued to submerge herself in technology and returned to her former hacker life, or as she preferred to label it, “hacktivist” life. Fet fought it at first, but he accepted that it made her happy. Having lost the laptop to the military, the women spent a few weeks working out the code again to track strigoi and once most global satellite communications were back up to operation, Dutch would tip off militaries around the world to hiding nests.

**_Fet_** was the most antsy of all of them. He’d head to the mainland a couple of times a week for “supplies”, but it was really because he was bored. Seeing all the strigoi activity lingering around the world from the maps on Dutch’s monitors made him _joke_ about how useful he’d be in those countries, that he could start his own strigoi extermination company, but once Dutch would remind him they were still wanted, he’d pout and go back to his “project” as he called it.

Everyone had laughed when he came back with the raggedy sixty five foot sailboat during one of his ‘supply runs’.

> “If you wanted a sailboat, love. You could just _buy_ a new one.” Dutch had laughed and he just shook his head.
> 
> “Nah. Dis one’s love at first sight.” The twinkle in his eye was too much to deny and it had almost given him something to do. He knew _nothing_ about boat, and he happily took on the project. It made them all pretty nervous that he might be near the water, so everyone took turns ensuring that he _knew_ how to swim.

**_Gus_** was the _least_ antsy of everyone. There was a gym, but not a boxing ring. Rather than build it himself once again, he went down the lazy route of having one built and he spent a good amount of time in it. He even forced everyone to keep up with training, and while he taught boxing to the group, he gladly accepted Dawn teaching them “ _self-defense_ ”, as she had labeled it. Gus would pick up on _occasional_ Sun Hunter training sprinkled throughout her lessons, but he kept that fact to himself. Likely some of the _same_ lessons had been passed along from Quinlan to both her and Vaun.

When he wasn’t training, he was lounging. He had no qualms with just _relaxing_ most of the time. At one point, he asked the girls to explain their _science_ to him, but went off to find the tequila after the third sentence had given him a headache.

When she wasn’t helping Gus train, Fet sand, and Dutch _math;_ **_Dawn_** _ran_ and Dawn _drank_. Everyone knew she drank because all of the alcohol vanished regularly, but no one understood _why_. They thought she did it to fight her grief, and to some extent that was true, but in all honesty, it sometimes made her grief worse. When she had a little too much, she would retreat from everyone and shut herself in her closet. It was dark and quiet there and she could unleash any amount of frustration and tears that she wished without judgement … or pity.

As much as she hated to admit it, Ellie appeared to be right. It was having less and less of an affect on her. At first, she chalked it up to just building up an immunity to it, but that was clearly not the case. The first strange indicator that she was _indeed_ different was when the hangovers completely vanished. When the volume that she was needing to drink to silence the liar’s voice increased, Gus took note and his worry was suffocating, so she started to slip extra money to Manuel, the gardener, so he could smuggle some in for her under her friend’s noses.

The dreams were getting more intense each night and she remembered the Iroquois woman’s words about prophets and the _future_ , but she dismissed that idea completely when she had started to dream about Quintus in Rome, kissing her during their meandering down the ancient cobblestone streets. He was gone; _it was all just wishful thinking_.

She knew none of this was a long term solution. She knew she would have to face her demons sooner or later, but right now, this was the _calm before the storm_.

####  _**And oh … what a storm it would be …** _


	20. Fan Art - Te Amo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be moving this to the appropriate chapter in a few days, but I wanted to throw it up now so that people wouldn't miss it.
> 
> Another amazing fan art by [quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/159248881530/intimacy-please-he-said-letting-the-sweet-rush)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

##  **Intimacy**

> _“Please.” He said, letting the sweet rush of acceptance spread across his entire body._
> 
> _“Please what?” She asked him, her voice was nearly sad. “Please don’t?”_
> 
> _“No. Please say it.” His eyes finally opened. “I … need it. I need to hear it.”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _He twitched, closing his eyes again while he cursed himself silently for it. He spoke again, almost pleading with her. “Please.” He pushed his forehead against hers. “Again?”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _He was smiling now as he demanded again. “Again.”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _When he opened his eyes finally, he found her smiling back. He reciprocated fully now and though she didn’t know Latin, it was easy to hear his words._
> 
> _**“Te amo.”** _


	21. Commission Art - Raphael

##  **The Traveler**

> Quintus didn’t see armour nor a weapon of any kind. His stature was shorter than theirs by more than a few inches and his skin was darker and flawless while his hair was short and black. But his eyes, they were by far the most catching feature for they were a deep and unnatural violet.
> 
> Ozryel’s demeanour changed considerably, as his nervous smile melted into a relieved one, reaching his arms out through the bars towards the man, who graciously accepted the clumsy embrace.
> 
> “Oh.” The bald angel cupped his face in both hands as his eyes welled up with happy tears and his smile broadened even more, “But … I have missed **you** the very **most**.”
> 
> Raphael pushed his forehead against the bars to touch his brother’s as their eyes closed, enjoying the brief contact before Ozryel pulled back, thrusting a hand out towards Quintus and the man turned to face him.
> 
> “Quintus … may I introduce you to **Raphael**.”
> 
> “Hello.” His smile was so broad it was nearly contagious. His teeth were white and glistening, “It is nice to finally meet you.” He asked as he fearlessly offered his palm to the dhampir through the bars.
> 
> \- [An Insatiable Ache, 1.2 - Justice](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/157963953913/chapter-12-justice)

##  _**Commission by[@windycube](https://tmblr.co/mjbM31X83oTJCG0Ju30XdSQ)** _


	22. 3.5 - Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter will upset people. I will be honest with you, it upset me even writing it. But … if you’ve stuck with the story thus far, I assume you have some amount of faith in my ability to build a good, realistic and emotional story.
> 
> Trust me.

The sailboat refurbishing was finally _complete_ and the three stood on the dock as they watched in silent horror while Fet coaxed them to join him in boarding.

“I swear she ain’t gonna sink! I fixed da holes!” He smiled, laughing merrily at Dutch’s defensive stance. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and a massive frown spread across her normally flirty face.

“But … do you know how to work it, love?” She bit her lower lip as she hesitated even further.

“You know I do.” He winked raising an eyebrow and Gus rolled his eyes at the awkwardly sexual interaction.

“We’re not gonna get out onto the open water and be stuck?” Dutch stammered again and Fet sighed negatively at her reluctance.

Brushing past the Hacker, Dawn joyfully began to mount the plank first without any hesitation to board the boat.

“Oy!” Dutch called out to her. “You not the least bit worried?”

“Eh.” The short woman smiled and shrugged. “I can swim. Can’t you?”

Gus shuffled back in his stance, staring at the short woman with an accusatory look, “Don’t you get _motion sick_ though?”

Dawn smiled, the realization that he even remembered that caused her to blush slightly and Fet laughed loudly from behind. “Make sure you puke _over_ the side den, huh? Oh!” He clapped his hands as he remembered something suddenly. “Wait wait wait!!”

Waving at Dawn to halt her steps and return to the dock, he walked up to the side of the boat and pulled at a large piece of cardboard that had been stuck to the hull with Duct Tape. It had been put on to conspicuously hide the painted lettering underneath. As he ripped it away, Dutch let out an emotional sigh.

“Oh Vasily.” She was obviously moved by the word that was exposed as she moved to his side and he took the opportunity to put a lazy arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight with a gentle snug, as Dutch’s eyes began to tear up a bit.

“I did good, huh?”

“Yeah, love.” She wiped away the single tear that escaped before she snuggled him back. “Yeah, you did.”

“Nice one, _ese_.” Gus offered a brotherly hand to the big man and the grasp was accepted as Fet pulled away from Dutch to finish the gesture and their chests touched momentarily as the two finished the embrace with a half hug and a shoulder pat.

As Dawn moved from the plank to fully read it, she could see the font of the name was a delicate but thick cursive. Beautiful and very feminine, the name rang across her mind, she understood at once and smiled as Fet was taking the duty of remembrance very seriously. There was a brief moment of silence for respect.

> _**“La Nora”** _

Neither Gus nor Dawn had the chance to meet this woman, but _everyone_ had spoken of her warmly, even the Professor and that was a _great_ feat to accomplish. She wished she had gotten the chance to know her.

“Dey say you gotta name ‘em after women.” Fet nodded his head, very happy with his choice. “I hope you don’t mind me havin’ _two ladies_ in my life, huh?” The question was directed at Dutch, but he quickly turned to Dawn as he realized his slight. “Don’t worry, I ain’t forgetting about you either, short stuff. Three women.”

 

* * *

 

Overall, the day was a complete success. Much to Dutch’s delight, Fet seemed to know _exactly_ what he was doing and although he spent the entire day barking orders at his three passengers, they happily complied. After hours on the open ocean and as the sun squeaked closer to the edge of the horizon and painted the sky with rich vivid colors, they set sail to return _home_. As the twilight breeze began to blow across the deck of the small boat, Gus approached Dawn with a smile, fumbling his phone back and forth nervously in his hands.

“Hey shortie, can you help me with something?” He asked, flicking his head towards the back of the boat.

“Sure.” She grinned at him as she _knew_ he was likely gonna ask how to do something specific with his phone, as he usually did. Waving for her to follow him to the back, he unlocked the screen and began pointing at the desktop.

“How do I take a video?” He looked down at the device, concern spreading across his face.

“You know how to take a video. You’ve done it before.” She shook her head at him and he scratched his neck in embarrassment. “I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, but I did the update thing last night and now I can’t find …”

Dawn pulled it out of his hands while she chuckled loudly at him. “Seriously dude. We need to get you an iPhone. I don’t know why you _had_ to get an Android.”

He frowned as he shrugged meekly. “Cause, you and _Little Miss Hero_ got the Android one. So … I figured it was better.”

She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it does mean it’s better, but it also means it’s not _as easy_ to use.” As Gus started to get animated, circling his fingers forward in an effort to rush her, she added a shortcut for the camera to his main screen and flicked into the camera, turning on the video feature.

“¡Rápido! Come on! Hurry up!”

“Geez, alright. Here!” Her eyes grew wide as she gave it back to him, shocked at his sudden rush to have it back.

“I told him I’d tape it!” He snatched it out of her hands, putting it up to frame the two people who were standing close together at the front of the boat.

“Tape what??” Dawn’s jaw dropped as she spun to see the big man bend to one knee, his hands up in an offering manner with a small black box cradled in his palm. Dutch’s hand was up to her mouth, covering it in stammering disbelief.

“Oh my god … “ Dawn’s words trailed off as Gus started to smile and nod with insane glee.

"Well?” Fet asked, his vulnerability entirely clear as he stared back up into the Hacker’s face. “What da ya say?” An intense smile curled up on his lips and his dimples sprang into view. “You wanna become Mrs. Fet, huh?”

Dutch was still frozen in sheer shock and Dawn felt herself holding her own breath until the Hacker started to nod enthusiastically.

“Yeah?” Fet asked and she nodded again, finally squeaking out a single word.

“Yes.”

“Yeah???” The big man asked again for confirmation and she nodded _yet again_.

“Yes. You big oaf … YES.”

There was a very clumsy moment of her trying to take the ring out of the box _while_ he stood to hug her. The box went tumbling to the deck and Dutch cursed as she leapt for it as though it was a grenade.

“Bloody hell!” It wasn’t at risk of falling over the edge, but the vigor at which she recovered it suggested she thought there might have been. Fet waited patiently while she pulled the jewelry from its snug location. Reaching out to put it on her finger, he started to laughed when she snatched it out of his hands and put it on herself, staring at it with mouth agape.

“Yes!” She said again and this time the embrace went as planned and Fet lifted her into the air as he chimed something in his native tongue, spinning her around as she planted several firm kisses on his lips.

Still holding the phone up, Gus nudged Dawn with his elbow and as she turned to face him, his own dimples were showing through.

“Didn’t see that coming, huh?” He grinned and she shook her head back and forth.

Technically, that was a lie. She’d been dreaming about this for weeks now, but she painted a fake smile of surprise across her face as she watched the couple finish their spin. As Fet put her down, Dutch was unable to move her eyes from the ring.

“God that’s a huge rock.” Concern usurped her happiness. “I _really_ hope this wasn’t a _blood diamond_.”

Fet looked shocked for a moment and shrugged, quickly concerned over his choice of stone. “Uh … I dunno … I hope not.”

Shaking the thought from her head, she hugged Fet again, looking back at the ring as she smiled. “Yes. But … Sorry love … I won’t be Mrs. Fet. I’ll be keeping my name.”

“Hey…” There was a significant pout from the mountain of a man. “We gonna have to talk about dat.”

Gus laughed loudly, offering his friend some useful advice. “Yeah big boy. I’d drop that. You ain’t gonna win _that_ argument!”

“You can always be Mr. Velders, too!” Dawn offered with a twisted grin and Fet glared at her.

 

* * *

 

When they returned to the island, it was apparent that the entire trip had served two purposes. First, it had afford Fet an incredibly romantic scenario to pop the big question and two, it was a ruse to get them off the island so that the staff could prepare for the festivities. As they exited the boat, they were greeted by Manuel and Rosa, who promptly supplied everyone with champagne after they verified that Dutch had said “YES”.

“You were planning this, weren’t you?” Dutch questioned immediately and Fet shrugged, feigning angel-like innocent.

“Chica, he’s been planning this _for months_.” Gus laughed as he snatched a glass from the young and overly pretty maid Rosa, taking a swig of it. Dawn smiled as the young woman blushed at Gus’ brief attention and then she shook her head as he entirely ignored her _again_. She _knew_ he wasn’t that daft, but Gus seemed to blow the woman off continuously.

“What if I had said no?” Dutch pressed.

“I coulda been more persuasive, huh?” Fet winked.

There was a lavish dinner and even live music as the entire small staff of the island was included in the celebration. Dawn had _never_ seen Dutch in quite a state and watched in awe as the woman actually took to _dancing_ at some point. When Fet joined her, it was truly amazing how atrocious they _both_ were at the rhythmic act. Even though neither moved to the beat of the music, it seemed that their movements together _did_ form some kind of entertaining harmony.

Dawn smiled, laughed, and participated in the festivities. _She was happy for them._ She _really_ was, but as she filled her glass over and over again, her internal sadness was profound. She watched the couple embrace, kiss, and laugh and she was so very _envious_. The numbness that the alcohol normally afforded her seemed to wash away and she craved their mutual happiness and budding future.

Feeling this way caused her considerable guilt and she grinned, giggled, watched the pair in love as she locked away and hid her own sad envy.

Gus watched the dancing and shook his head from a seat to her right. “I’m pretty sure those two _were made for each other_.”

_Made for each other …_

> **_“Before you were even born … You were promised to me … ” His words._ **

She beat back her memories. They had no place here. Today was _their_ day and she had _no right_ to make it about her … “I think you’re right.” Fet executed some kind of strange chicken movement and Dawn shook her head as she chuckled, covering her eyes as she was even embarrassed to be witnessing it.

“You dance?” Gus asked and Dawn’s eyes grew wide as she turned to look at him. She was a deer in his headlights.

Pointing to her chest innocently, she reminded him calmly. “Engineer, remember?” Gus laughed.

“I remember.” His tone was abnormally playful and she thought maybe he’d had too many glasses of the bubbly. “So?”

“We don’t dance.”

“Dutch ain’t gotta problem with it.” He pointed out and Dawn shook her head, gesturing to the woman flailing around like a drunk monkey.

“ _Hacker_.” She pointed back to herself. “ _Engineer_.”

“I thought you were a _Mathematician_?” He pressed, his voice never losing that playful tone. She wasn’t used to having someone talk to her this way and she felt her face flush with heat.

“Same difference.” She nervously finished her drink and suddenly Rosa was there, filling it back up again. She would have gotten it herself, but she also knew the young woman was standing idling by on the off chance of having a reason to approach Gus. She wondered suddenly if this was just a ploy he was using to make the prettier woman jealous. She’d been used for such a purpose in the past …

“I bet Rosa dances.” She winked, prompting him to spin around and spy the pretty girl in the doorway. His sudden attention on her caused a flushed smile to grace her overly plump lips as she turned around in blushing agony.

Gus turned back around, locking his eyes on Dawn intently as he placed his arm around the back of her chair, pulling his own chair over an inch to close the distance between them. She shifted uncomfortably at the suddenly display of affection.

“Yeah … I know.” His gaze was unflinching and Dawn felt herself gulp. “But she ain’t who I wanna dance with, shortie.”

Being entirely speechless wasn’t something that happened to Dawn often. Sure, she didn’t speak a lot, but she usually always had _something_ to say, regardless if she actually voiced it. At this fragile moment, she could only stare back into his hopeful brown eyes as the reality of the situation began to settle in. Was he _really_ interested in … _her?_ She hadn’t seen this coming but it was the dhampir’s words that she heard in the back of her mind, nudging her gently into accepting it to be truth:

> **_“If you wish to pursue Mr. Elizalde, I think he would be accommodating.”_ **

No. _Noooo_. She was most definitely _not_ his type and as he smiled at her warmly, she felt a knot tighten in the pit of her stomach. _No. She’s_ **_really_** _not his type_. This is a bad idea.

“What da ya say, chica? It’s just a dance?” Being this close, she was overwhelmed by the smell of his _overuse_ of cologne. Was it really _overuse_ though? She _knew_ it’s nauseating intensity was likely only because she could smell _everything_ now. She could smell the roses in the garden on the other side of the house even from here, and she could _smell_ the equally repugnant perfume of the pretty woman who was now standing _just_ behind her.

“Señior Elizalde, ¿le gustaría bailar?” The woman fumbled as she asked with a stammer from behind.

Dawn’s spanish was terrible, but she didn’t need to know the language to _feel_ the woman’s words and understand her question. Her desire for Gus seeped out of her mind regularly and it was just one of the many things that Dawn picked up on now that seemed almost … _unnatural_.

She watched as Gus put up his hand in a defensive manner, planning to refuse the request, but she took the moment to stand, face Rosa, and wave a hand towards Gus.

“Yes. He _really_ would.” The sigh that he expelled was successful in expressing his disappointment, but he begrudgingly accepted Rosa’s hand and stood, shaking his head at Dawn as he went with the happy young woman.

The figure to her right spoke up for the first time all day.

> _“It’s better this way.” Ellie said. “He’s not right for you.”_

Dawn downed her glass, but the apparition remained. Ellie was showing up _more and more_ frequently and she knew it was because the alcohol was having a waning effect.

She waited until they were fully on the dance floor before she stole the bottle of champagne that Rosa had left on the table and retreated down the side path, meandering her way to the deserted beach on the East side of the island.

The moon was so full that it lit up the night as if it were day and she planted herself firmly into the sand as she thought about the day again. It wasn’t long before he found her though. She had few hiding places, and he knew them all quite well, it seemed.

She heard him long before she smelled him, and she smelled him long before she saw him. As he eased down into the sand beside her, he pulled his knees in tightly as he hugged them.

**[Expectations - Sir Sly](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0VrgJzLfw9PnxgCQCiEWsS&t=ZjY5Mzk0MGRmZjRiMzM4ODk1ZWRlMWJhMzlkZjMzNWE5MjQ5ODEyOCxLcFVreGVSSA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159394902088%2Fchapter-35-gone&m=1) **

> _How did expectations get so high?_
> 
> _Got a wicked thirst to feel alive_
> 
> _How did expectations get so high?_
> 
> _Now I have nowhere to run and hide_
> 
> _Losing control, losing control_

“I didn’t mean to scare you away.” He pouted.

“I’m sorry …” She apologized, but she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for exactly. Was it because she had just run away or was it because she felt like a damned coward. Perhaps it was both?

“I don’t wanna bug you, but I just wanted to apologize.” He said nervously. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“It’s O.K.” In all honestly, she was actually _ridiculously flattered_. Things like _this_ didn’t happen to people like _her_ , especially not with someone like Gus. He was more than a little bit out of her league.

“We still good then?” His voice was full of concern.

“Don’t be dumb.” She smiled. “Of course we are.”

“Good. Cause it’d be awkward if we avoided each other.” He nudged her a little with his shoulder and she snickered. “‘Cause, we only got the one kitchen.”

“I _do_ think Rosa likes you though.” They would be make a good couple, she thought. Rosa was everything that he should want. She was thin, tall, beautiful, and _kind_. They were both attractive, young people, right?

“Nah. She ain’t my type.”

“Yes she is.” Dawn shook her head at his goofy statement, her voice laden with disbelief. “She’s every guy’s type.”

“You know … she asked me how to do something with her phone yesterday? I mean … _me_. Sheesh.”

“I bet she was just using it as an excuse to talk to you.” Dawn grinned, nudging him back with her own shoulder.

“Nope. She had it stuck in airplane mode. She had _no clue_.” Gus sighed as he raised his eyebrow. “ _Ella es un poco estúpida._ ”

“But she’s pretty …” Dawn reassured him, finding herself unable to believe his last comment. Her Spanish was terrible, but he’d just called the pretty girl _stupid_ and that was incredibly amusing to her. “What does it matter how _smart_ she is?”

“You know … I didn’t use to care … but, I dunno. Things are different now. I ain’t a _boy_ anymore.” Gus’ adorable smile curled up on one side as he leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder playfully again. “ _My standards are hella raised now._ ”

Her blush was undeniable and she leaned away from him a bit, completely understanding his implication. “Gus … After everything that’s happened … I don’t know if I’m even ready to–”

“ _After everything_ should make you realize that you shouldn’t _wait_ to live, shortie. I don’t want to sit around and regret not going for something I want … _for someone that I want_.”

“I know …” She muttered lowly. “I just don’t think …

“You take as much time as you need.” He shrugged innocently. “I can wait.”

She laughed fakely. “You’re pretty tenacious, huh?” If she had met Gus a year ago, she would have jumped at his words. But, she also knew that if she had met Gus a year ago, he wouldn’t have had any interest in her at all.

“I think I can make you happy.” He shrugged. “I think we can _both_ make each other happy. I’m willin’ to give it a try.”

“ _Happy_?” She asked, unable to rip her eyes from the night sky. The shame of considering his _offer_ wrecked havoc on her heart.

“I know I ain’t _him_. I know _that_.” She breathed out a sigh of relief that Gus hadn’t uttered his name. She hoped that he wouldn’t, otherwise she might not be able to hold her composure together as well as she was. “But … _he ain’t here anymore, shortie._ **_He left_** _.”_

Acute shock covered her square face as she faced him suddenly. Had he really just said that? “I _know_ he’s gone, Gus.”

“But … _you_ ain’t the only one he left, you know?” Gus shook his head and for the first time since that fateful night six months before, she could see the pain in his eyes. “He left all of us … We were family and _he left_. You ain’t the only one who’s mad.”

“I …” What exactly was happening? She felt so sorry for Gus’ loss suddenly and as he reached out to her, she wasn’t pulling away, no matter how much she screamed at herself to. “I’m sorry … I didn’t realize …”

“We were _all_ family. But, I ain’t gonna let that stop me from living.” She was expecting more than just the warm hug that he gave her, and she was strangely disappointed as he started to move away. He assured her one last time. “I’m here now and I wanna take care of you.  I ain’t going nowhere.  I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

She could have let him stand up and walk away. She could have let him feel entirely rejected, but she really was so tired of being alone. She reached out for his arm, grabbing his shirt firmly as she tugged on it gently, asking him to stay.

“Gus?”

His response wasn’t with words, but with lips and although for the first time in half a year, Dawn didn’t spend the night by herself …

 _She’d_ **_never_** _felt more alone in all of her life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	23. Commission Art - The Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter was supposed to go out today, but time go away from me. In the meantime, enjoy this commission.

[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/159460019183)

##  _**Absolutely stunning commission by[@mikaosart](https://tmblr.co/m6rveRMuUs0-uKOHyFESEGQ)** _


	24. 3.6 - Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

>   _Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering_

> _As I fall through the willow trees, and I said_
> 
> **_Who will care for the fallen?_ **
> 
> **_Who will care for the fallen?_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> _Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,_
> 
> _Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am_
> 
> _Suddenly here, when I want to scream_

The salty ocean breeze was warm and the sand that invaded the space between her toes was welcome as she strolled across the expansive beach. The sun was coming up soon and she loved _this_ sky the most. A patchwork of marvelous colors; red, green, amber and violet. She heard him call to her and as she turned away from the emerging sun, she saw the hispanic man walking across the shoreline to greet her, something delicately and lovingly cradled into his toned arms.

His smile was the biggest that she had _ever_ seen and it caused her to repay it in kind. He was so _happy_ and it gave her the smallest bit of courage and hope that she might be able to see him some day as the way he was looking at her right now. As he came closer and she looked into his arms, she saw the smallest tiny brown arm pop up as it grasp toward his jaw with a hungry, tiny palm.

“He woke up!”

Oh good lord …

     Is that … _a baby?_

Dawn felt her smile waiver and she suddenly felt flush with worry as he closed the distance between them quickly and greedily.

 _Oh no_. Was he going to hand her _that baby_??? Ah shit. Her flight or fight instinct kicked into a furious storm of conflict within her and she fought the urge to run back into the house. As she spun to look for it, she realized it was gone. She was lone there … on this island with Gus and … _gulp_ … _that fucking baby._

Ah damn it, he was _so happy_ right now. Staring _right at her_ , she felt an overwhelming sense of shame from her desire to flee and she resolved herself to stay. No … she _needed_ to stay. He was exactly what she needed, right?

Maybe his happiness would rub off on her eventually … maybe she could see him as he was looking at _her_ right now … but it was in that moment of clarity, in _that_ instance when she considered giving into him that she realized he wasn’t actually looking _at_ her. He was looking _past_ her.

As her gaze shifted down, she realized she wasn’t actually casting _a shadow_ , even though there was one on the sand before her. No … _that_ shadow which stretched out long from the rising sun wasn’t hers. As it shifted and started to move towards Gus, she felt her body relax as the concern melted away from him.

_Oh god … it wasn’t her._

_He wasn’t talking to her._

_He wasn’t looking at her._

It was Quintus’ voice she heard lingering in her mind, crawling across her psyche – somewhere distant, calm, and restrained – as he always was. God, how she had been longing to hear him again. It was humming in her mind as she watched the shadow behind her moving closer to Gus and everything slowed down to a still frame.

 _“It is_ **_not_** _her, Lula.”_

> _How she missed that voice …_

_“And it is_ **_not_** _him.”_

> _That tone. That accent._

_“It has_ * _never_ * _been them.”_

> _Oh god. That_ **_underlying_** _rattle._

“I have loved **_one_** and only **_one_** …” 

> _That bone chilling growl._

**_“And I plan to ONLY love her …”_**

> _Oh fuck … how she missed_ **_that_** _smell._

 **“** Whatever **_afterlife_** awaits me … 

> _Metal and oil …_

"Whether it be the _fields_ or **_Tartarus_** …” 

> _Leather …_

“Whether it be _Heaven_ or _even_ **_Hell_** …” 

> _Gun powder …_

“I go _there_ with **_her_** on my mind and in my heart, _always_ …” 

> _Oh God … his touch._

_“She …”_ His breath. “ _She awaits me in_ **_eternity_** _…_ ” 

> _His hand laid on her shoulder._

“It would be … _unfair_ to **_him_** for **_you_** to pretend otherwise.” 

> _His skin was so warm …_

_“Does_ **_he_** _not deserve to find the same, Lula?”_

As she turned, she hoped so desperately to see his face, but it was Ellie’s staring back at her as the breeze kicked up violently, causing a flurry of chaos with the sand just as it had done on that roof top so many months before. Looking down quickly at her friends feet, she smiled. It was Ellie.

“I’m so sorry, precious one.” She said and Dawn scrunched her nose in mild confusion. Such a title was uncommon and she doubted for a moment if it was _really_ Ellie.

“Why?” She questioned her tall friend.

“If you want him _back … You have to finish breaking first_ …” Ellie face was a contorted mess of worry and Dawn shook her head in continued confusion.

“He’s gone, Ells. You don’t come back from being _gone._ ”

“If you believe that … _then all of this is for nothing_.” As the wind died, Ellie turned to look into the distant **_violet and green_** sky. “If you don’t try … _then_ **_all of this_** _was for nothing._ Then I _left_ for nothing.” Ellie’s voice was riddle with so much pain that Dawn shuddered. “Then I left **_him_** for nothing.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do … “ Dawn felt herself start to cry as she matched her friend’s gaze out into the brightening sky where a single, brilliant star was visible. _Probably a planet?_ Maybe.

"You will do whatever you _feel_ you need to do, because you will _know_ what is best. Do what you feel is _right_ , even if _they_ tell you it’s wrong. And do what is right _for you_ , not for _them_. Be selfish but be true to yourself because that’s the only thing that will matter in the end.” The words seemed to be _painful_ for Ellie to even say, but at the end she smiled, her hair dancing in the most gentle breeze that was left after the dust devil had died away.

“The end of what? I don’t–”

“Do what you know you shouldn’t. Do what _feels_ right even if you _know_ it’s wrong. And do what you _know_ you are the best at.” Her _tall_ friend nodded and smiled, pleased with her words. “Rock the boat. No, _not_ **_just_** _that_. You tip that _mother fucker_ over. [Those who can swim, _will_. And those who can’t … _they deserve to drown_.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genesis_flood_narrative)”

“What if …” Dawn hesitated, ashamed of her own cowardly question. “What if I’m one of the ones who can’t swim?”

“Child, I doubt that very much … but there are more hands than you realize that will pull you from _the fire_. There are _eyes_ more powerful than you can imagine that will keep you afloat.” 

> _Fire?_ How can you drown in _fire?_
> 
>  _Eyes?_ And how can _eyes_ pull you out of water?

Ellie sighed sadly. “And my god … how I have missed _those eyes_.” As she stared at her friend’s face, Dawn understood this obscure longing. She had just felt it so _very much_ , had she not? God, she missed Quintus’ voice … his smell .. his eyes … his … “You do what you are better at than anyone that I have ever known in my very _very_ **_very_** long life, my young, _powerful_ , **_defiant_** child of lore. I have dreamed of you _for so very long, so …_ you must do what you were _born_ to do.”

“I don’t understand. What was I born to do?” Dawn tore her eyes from the distant morning star and looked into Ellie’s face again as she gripped her arm with desperation. “I’m stuck, Ells. I’m stuck on this _fucking rock_. He left me here … _on this_ **_fucking_** _rock!_ ”

“A rock? When has a rock every stopped _you_? It’s _just_ a rock.” Dawn sought answers with her eyes only and finally Ellie turned from the star as she smiled at her, full of hope. “If you can’t get down … then _break the entire fucking thing in half._ ”

“ _By whatever means necessary, child and by_ **_whoever_** _you need to use._ "  The brown-haired, slender woman turned back to the star and she calmly said. “If you want him back … you can’t follow their rules anymore.”

The last thing Dawn saw before she woke was the most devious grin she’d _ever_ seen on Ellie’s face. When her eyes opened, she rolled over to the side to see the handsome Hispanic man sleeping silently beside her and her eyebrows furrowed as she remembered the little _brown_ arm reaching up for _his father_.

 _Bullshit_. She thought about fate, destiny, and all the bullshit that Quintus had believed and she sneered it away with a frown.

 ** _Bullshit_**. _It was just a bad dream. Fuck her dreams._

She urged herself to crawl out of bed. It was already time to get started for this very special day. Today was the big day and she needed to get over to Dutch’s room to help out in whatever way she could. That was her _job_ for the day, right?

Dutch had decided immediately that she wanted a _big wedding_. She always had, but the problem was, almost everyone they knew were dead. To top it off, she’d resisted any and all urges to seek out or contact _any_ of her family that might still be alive over fear of them being watched. There was _no doubt_ in her mind that they were and she knew her old life was truly over. She wasn’t _Dutch Velders_ anymore.

In response, Fet suggested a small, intimate wedding. But as it often was when it came to dealing with the _Hacker_ , she got her way in the end. It would be _big_ and they would invite anyone who wanted to come, but the tricky part was that she wanted it done _sooner rather than later_.

"We can take longer to plan it.” Fet suggested when her stress level over the affair began to elevate and she shook her head fiercely.

“I am the most _unlucky_ person in the world, love. If we wait, it’ll be just my luck those _other ancients_ show up and another outbreak’ll happen. BAM! Another apocalypse.”

A venue on the mainland was selected and a date two months from the proposal was set into stone as they put the cash deposit down at the resort of the bride’s choosing. The staff was told to invite any and everyone they could and during those several months leading up to the big day, life on the island was peaceful and _almost_ happy.

As one relationship was completely solidifying, another was just budding and she wasn’t about to let _a fucking dream_ talk her out of her happiness. She’d done enough of talking herself out of things her entire life. From now on, it was going to be different. From now on, _she_ would be _different_.

As she stared into the bathroom mirror, she mused at how her hair was ridiculously long now and she tied it back against her head, knowing that the damned hairdresser would have to do something with it later whenever she eventually made it over to Dutch’s room. Given the time, the Hacker’s transformation was already well underway.

As she walked into the room, Dutch’s smile was grand.

“Oy! Perfect timing. Do you think you can grab my phone for me, love? I left it in the kitchen.” She was stressed and rushed and everything that she should have been on this hectic day. Dawn complied happily. Her own wedding hadn’t been _anything_ so extravagant; it had been a simple trip down to the courthouse and nothing that had generated any lasting memories that she could scrounge up of the day itself. She thought perhaps they went out for dinner afterwards?

In all honestly, it was turning out to be pretty fun to play along with the festivities though and she found herself living almost vicariously through Dutch and her contagious excitement. Nodding in happy compliance, she meandered her way to the kitchen, needing coffee anyways. She figured she’d need loads of caffeine to make it through the _socializing_ anyways.

She could hear the phone rumbling against the kitchen table before she even made it through the doorway, but it had stopped once she fully entered the room. Shrugging, she visited the coffee machine first and built her usual morning drink. Three splashes of cream, two cubes of sugar and a couple of really good pours from her flask.

She hadn’t actually been able to get drunk for weeks now, but it had become a good routine to maintain. Learning to simply ignore her _visitor_ proved easier than she thought and Ellie had stopped trying to talk to her weeks ago, but now her dead friend stood next to the table, looking down at the phone as it began to vibrate gain. 

> “I think it’s for you.” She grinned and Dawn sighed, not gracing the thing with an ounce of verbal attention.

She sat slowly at the table and began to drink the warm liquid quickly before she grabbed the little device and looked at its screen.

 _10 missed calls_.

She should probably get the phone back to the bride as she was _certain_ these were calls having to due with preparations for the day. Well … as soon as she finished her coffee and afforded herself a peaceful second.

As she downed it and revisited the machine, the phone, which she had stuffed into her back pocket, buzzed yet again. 

> “You should really get that.” Ellie mused again and Dawn fumbled it out of her pocket, looking at the screen, which revealed the name of the person calling.

At first, she blinked as it continued to rumble in her grasp, the name clearly flashing across the lock screen. Those letters on the notification caused her to do a double take and a small gasp expelled from her tiny frame as she remembered it clearly.

 _Antonio Ferraro. Fuck._

> “I told you it was for you.” Ellie grinned devilishly. “You should answer it.”

Dawn considered _not_ doing just that, but it was as if her hand had a life of its own and her thumb flicked the bar to the right to answer the call. As she held the little device up to her ear, she found herself entirely speechless.

“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. He sounded middle-aged and his Italian accent was thick. “Hello????”

“Can I help you?” Was that rude? Perhaps. But at this point in time, she didn’t want to small talk at all. Especially considering …

“May I speak with Mrs. Smythe?” Smythe was Dutch’s new name and Dawn’s eyes closed with brewing anger.

“She’s currently indisposed.” Dawn stated with resentment. “Can I take a message?” Dutch had some explaining to do.

“Yes. Tell her I received the paperwork and everything checks out fine. The notary finalized all of the necessary legal documentation yesterday.”

“Paperwork?” Dawn asked and she wondered if he meant the _letter_ that Quintus had left for him. She hadn’t seen it since that night that she had _rejected_ his offer of wealth.

“Yes. **_The certificate._** ” The man definitely had a snide aura about him. “Excuse me, but who am I speaking with?” 

> “ _Diana_.” Ellie purred from behind her left shoulder, into her ear. “Do it … tell him. It’s important.”

For the first time in _months,_ she spun and stared the apparition right in the eyes. Her anger trumping her desire to pay it no attention as she glared with rage. _She knew her name was on that fucking letter_.

“This is _Dawn_.” She sneered, both into the phone and towards her _friend_ who shrugged innocently.

“Ah, thank you. Very good, _Dawn_.”

She heard the person enter the room from behind and she knew who it was already, by the sound of the footsteps as well as the smell of the floral shampoo.

“Hey, what is taking so long? I need to call the cake–” Dawn spun to lock eyes with the Hacker and Dutch stopped mid-step as she saw the device pushed up against the shorter woman’s head.

“Not a problem, _Antonio_. I’ll let her know.” The glare that she had afforded her dead friend was nothing compared to this new look that she lobbed to the hacker and Dutch gulped, pulling her bridal robe tightly across her body in response.

“Mr. Ferraro, please. Oh, and please inform Mrs. Smythe that this should _conclude_ my business with her _directly_. As the estate emissary, until the gentleman returns, please have **_Mrs. Sertorius_** contact me directly for any future needs.”

_Wait … What …_

There were no further words spoken and as the man hung up, Dawn stood completely still, the phone still pressed against her ear as she glared at the bride. She knew her eyes grew wide at the title and she also felt her mouth drop open. 

> “Haha! I told you!” Ellie clapped loudly as she danced around Dutch in a happy frolic, quite amused with what had just occurred. “She’s so not your friend! _None of them are!_ ”

The moment of quiet stillness could have lasted minutes as both women simply stared at each other and if the Boxer hadn’t entered the room and headed for the coffee machine, it might have lasted for _hours_.

“Morning.” He smiled as he planted a kiss on the short woman’s forehead, oblivious to the tension so thick that one could cut it with a knife.

Dutch gulped again. “Uh … what did he say?”

 _Was she going to try and get out of this?_

> Ellie shook her head furiously. “OH, no no no. She’s onto you now, fucker.”

“What … “ Dawn breathed deeply, in and out. Her tone was steady and cold. “What … _certificate_?”

“Uh oh.” Gus had just slipped down into his normal seat at the table when he realized something wasn’t quite right and he watched in silence, his face painted with quiet concern. He knew that tone … from _both_ of them.

“Uh … so … here’s the thing–” Dutch stammered. Her makeup wasn’t on yet, but her hair was an amazing nest of curls and braids, which bounced back and forth as her arms became animated in her nervous response.

“ _What certificate?_ ” Dawn asked again, firmly.

“The letter … “ Dutch pouted innocently. “I got it translated and–”

“You had no right.” Dawn furrowed her heartbroken brows at her “ _friend_ ” and Dutch frowned.

Her next words were executed in a flurry. It was obvious she had practiced this. “And I know you’re mad at him. I know it makes you upset and you have every right to _hate_ me, but _he died for us_. Not just _you_ , eh? I’m sorry, love. He died saving _all of us_. The _entire fucking world_ and _this_ was his _last request_. So I’m sorry if that **_upsets_** you, but I told him I would see it through.”

At this point in time, most people would scream. Most people would rage, but Dawn only stared at her ‘friend’ with almost empty eyes. There was no retort that could possibly be made at Dutch’s statements that could appease her anger or subdue her grief. She’d done so well to wrangle it the last two months, finding comfort in … _oh god._

The look spread across the short woman’s face was enough to entirely diffuse the Hacker’s rushed and angry defense of her own actions. Dutch sighed heavily as her arms collapsed to her sides.

“It was the last thing he asked me to do … his last request. I couldn’t just _not_ do it, love.” Dutch shook her head as she put her right hand to her forehead, her voice conveying utter defeat. “I … If I didn’t see it through, I would have felt like an **_insufferable ass_**.”

 

* * *

>   _I heard the news today,_
> 
> _That you weren’t mine to save_
> 
> _I hope that you’re comfortable_

Dawn sat near the front of the little speed boat as Gus navigated the big waves to the mainland. He’s suggested she accompany him to pay off the florist and make sure the cake had been delivered to break up the _high tension_ in the kitchen.

She nodded but hadn’t spoken at all since the interaction. Now she just stared out across the waves. Dutch had gone full bridezilla and had requested that she not go because of the need to get her hair done in time, but it was an evening wedding and Gus assured her he’d get the maid of honor back in time.

“She needs a bit, chica. I’ll get her back in time.” Dutch had nodded sadly, watching them walk away in silence.

As they docked and wandered through the streets, she was quiet until they got _into_ the florist’s shop, waiting in the small line to get up to the register.

“Did you know?” She _finally_ spoke.

Gus didn’t. “Nope.” Simple question. Simple answer. He could have left it that way, but he knew he shouldn’t and so he didn’t. “But … she was in a tough spot. I can see why she did it.”

“Tough spot?” Dawn gasped and Gus shrugged.

“Yeah … It was the last thing he asked her to do and you _mighta_ changed your mind one of these days. She covered her bases.”

Dawn frowned, crossing her arms against her chest as she considered his words quietly. Most of his other girlfriends would have ripped his head off by now, but he _knew_ she was actually listening to him. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred, because he felt like her silence was a more powerful weapon than anger.

“But … be mad at her tomorrow, ok shortie?” He said finally, as the line inched closer.

“Tomorrow?” Dawn pouted. She didn’t like this idea apparently.

“Yeah, _tomorrow_. Today is _her_ day, right? Today is Fet’s day. You are the one always tellin’ me, _yesterday is dead_ , right?”

There was a tiny nod and her arms dropped from their protective shield while she frowned even deeper, pausing before she said the next thing. “The man on the phone …”

“Yeah?” He coaxed her to continue.

“He called me **_Mrs. Sertorius_**.” Gus’ own eyes widened at that and he turned to her as confusion danced across his face while she looked up into his eyes with her intense green eyes. Her eyes always made him nervous and he danced in his stance. “Why would he call me that?”

“I don’t know, shortie. I don–”

“Gus?” The voice was light and sweet. It came from in front of them and he didn’t recognize it at first, not until his head turned fully and he looked at the face from which it had sprung. Her immaculate face was just as he had remembered it, brown and flawless skin, dark brown eyes, almost black and _that_ smile. “GUS!?!” She was even more excited now as she closed the distance between them and embraced him eagerly, crushing the two bouquets of flowers within her hands.

“Aanya?” He coughed in absolute shock as she returned the hug. “ _Aanya??_ ” He asked again in disbelief, as he pulled back to look her over entirely, cupping her beautiful face in his hands before he embraced her again.

“I thought you were dead! You weren’t here. We couldn’t find you!” She gasped as her eyes swam with drunken happiness. “Where’s Angel??! Where is–” She pulled back to look around and Gus shook his head back and forth.

“Angel’s gone. He didn’t make it.” The happy embrace quickly turned into a consoling one and he hugged her as tight as he could, his heart beating like a racehorse. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

As they pulled away from each other, Gus finally realized the pair of eyes watching the entire scene and he pulled away completely from Aanya’s embrace to turn to Dawn, who was watching with profound confusion … and _silence_.

“Oh! Sorry. Aanya, this is Dawn. Dawn, Aayna.” As they apprehensively shook hands, Gus qualified badly. “Dawn is a _friend_.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he corrected but he knew the damage had already been done. “My Girlfriend.” Was that the right title? He was sure it was …. Wasn’t it? She was _more_ than that though but he quickly put his arm around the short woman and tugged her tightly to him even though the situation was increasingly _very awkward_. He felt Dawn tense at his hug and the sadness that befell Aanya’s face was devastating.

“Oh.” She smiled meekly. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you.” As the line opened up, Dawn quickly snatched the cash filled envelope from Gus’ shaking hand and made an offer to the pair.

“It sounds like you too need to catch up. I got this.” She moved away from them and began to conduct the business with the florist coldly. Gus shook his head. _Shit_.

Aanya only smiled wider and more genuinely. “I’m happy for you, Gus.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked suddenly as he reached out to touch her arm again. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself and he pulled his hand back as he felt guilt over the desire to touch her.

“Looking for you …” She confessed sheepishly.

“Me?” Gus stuttered.

“You both. You _and_ Angel.” The smile turned to a solemn frown again. “He always used to talk about this place. This is where he was born you know … He said there were islands and sunshine and … ”

“I know.” Gus nodded. “That’s why we came here …”

“We didn’t know where else to go … I hoped … _I hoped he would bring you here_. If he survived, there was only _one_ place he would go.”

“How long have you been here?” He pressed.

“Four months.” She pointed outside and waved the flowers at him reflexively. “We opened another restaurant. I come every morning to get flowers for the tables.”

She’d been here _for four months!?_ Gus couldn’t tear his eyes from her face and her mouth. She was so _beautiful_. “Months?” He questioned in awe and she nodded.

“I asked around about you. No one knew you. No one–”

“We …” He hesitated. “We had to change our names.”

“Oh.” She said quietly.

“O.K. All set.” Dawn was back and she was handing a receipt to Gus as she eyed the Indian woman up and down. “Ready? I gotta get back A.S.A.P., right?”

“Oh, so hey. We gotta run.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Umm … You should come by the restaurant some time.” She offered clumsily and Gus smiled as he nodded to her invitation.

“Definitely.” He really didn’t mean to rush this reunion and he made an offer that he immediately regretted. “Our friends are getting married today. Hey!” He clapped his hands. “You should come!”

“To a wedding?” Aanya seemed surprised by the spontaneous invitation. “Oh, I don’t have _anything_ to wear to a wedding … don’t you have to R.S.V.P. to those?”

Gus shook it off as he smiled to her deeply. “Nah, it’s totally informal. Bring your parents, it’s an open invitation. You should come.” He didn’t realize his mistake until he dealt out the location and time, turning to leave and Dawn stared at him with quiet eyes.

As he already knew, her silence was a sharper weapon than any anger he’d ever experience, and she spoke no further words to him until they were back on the island.

_Mierda._

* * *

The knock on the door was small and almost inaudible. The Hacker looked up from her frantic scribbling at her desk. She _really_ should have written her vows _weeks_ ago.

“Come in!” she shouted as she fumbled with the pen and paper. She was actually happy to see the short woman enter and she ran to her immediately, grabbing and hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry.” She said as she shook her back and forth. “I’m _so_ sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s ok.” Dawn nodded and she smiled back to her. “You did what you thought was right.”

“No. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I was stressed, this whole day has me–”

“It’s ok.” Dawn assured her again, interrupted the apology. “It’s _your_ day. I shouldn’t have–”

“Ugh. I’m so sorry.” Dutch shook her again and Dawn pulled away enough to smell her mouth and the breath that emanated from it.

“Is that … _WHISKEY?!”_ It was 11 A.M. and Dawn started to giggle as Dutch raised a crazy eyebrow followed by a nod and a crazed grin.

“Fuck yeah it’s _whiskey_. I’ve been drinking since 6 A.M. You wanna shot?”

“ _Fuck yeah._ ” They both laughed and Dutch pulled the flask out of its hiding place within her robe, handed it to the short woman who frowned. “It’s almost empty.”

Running to her desk, she produced a brand new bottle from the bottom drawer. “Not a problem!” Filling the container up, she took a few swigs from the bottle directly before returning it to the drawer.

“You ready to get _woman’d_ up?” Dutch pointed to her hair and Dawn sighed in meager defeat.

“Fuck. Yes. Can I skip the makeup?” She’d been asking for reprieve from the ‘makeup’ for months and Dutch shook her head at the request, as she always did. “Damn it.” At one point, the short woman had made some claim about _not wanting to look like a clown_ , and Dutch had actually taken great offense to it. At least she didn’t use _that_ terminology again.

“Lemme call Stella.” That was the hairdresser. “Tell her you’re ready. I think she’s in the patio.”

She made a motion to grab for her phone and she heard Dawn timidly ask a question from behind. “I just want to know …” _Uh oh. Dutch knew that tone._ “ _What certificate?_ ”

She only had to lock eyes with her little friend for a split second before she knew she had to come clean. As Dutch sighed, she reopened her bottom drawer and pulled the folder where she was keeping her _shameful_ documents. She handed Dawn the folder and sat back down, before starting to bite her fingernails as she watched the woman explore the documents.

Dawn pulled out one of the papers and began to read while Dutch explained it. “That’s the translation. Q was pretty clever. _Bloody brilliant,_ actually.”

As she read it slowly and carefully, Dutch’s nervous nature prompted her to continue to speak through the silence. “There was simply _no way_ that man would just _give_ you his estate. He never had a _will_ or anything of that nature. _He knew that._ He knew that if Ferraro thought he was dead, the bloody bastard would just take ownership of everything himself. The only way to give you _everything unconditionally_ was …” Dutch hesitated.

“If I was his _wife_.” Dawn finished the letter and Dutch breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as Dawn flicked to the next papers, pulling the forged marriage certificate out and looking at it carefully. “If Q was still _alive_ , this was the only way to ensure Ferraro would give you complete access to his entire estate. That man is a greedy son of a bitch, but he’s clearly terrified of Q.”

She placed the certificate back into the folder and pulled out the original letter still within, running her little finger over the name at the bottom yet again. “Thank you.” She finally said and Dutch pulled out her flask as she handed it to Dawn again.

“Here … Cheers, love.”

Dawn took it and looked the Hacker in the eyes as she took a drink reluctantly. “Cheers to what exactly?”

“Well … cause in a way … “ Dutch frowned as she took her own deep drink. “It’s your wedding day too.” 

> “ _I’m sorry he did this to you._ ” The apparition’s voice sounded from behind her. “ _I really am._ ”

“I have an _entirely_ unrelated question …” Dawn closed the folder, tucking it under her arm as she took complete ownership of it and she looked up into Dutch’s eyes, concern consuming her sad little face. “Do you know who _Aanya_ is?”

 

* * *

 

The short woman poked at the food on the plate aimlessly with her fork and Gus forced her to eat it. Well, he didn’t force, but when he gave her that innocent yet conniving smile, there was little she could do to refuse him.

“Eat up, shortie. You haven’t eaten ANYTHING all day. I notice these things.” It was true, but she really wasn’t hungry and god damn, this dress fit when she tried it on last month, but now she felt like she had gained ten lbs in the interim. She _knew_ she’d gained even more than that since the _end_ of the _war_. How was that even _possible_?!? She was running upwards of 10 miles a day!

_Goddamn her genetics._

She was keeping away from the wine until she spied the lovely, darker skinned woman out of the corner of her eye staring at Gus. Then she started to down the wine as if it was water. Wine is food, right? It has calories and shit. When Gus ‘went to the bathroom’ and she spied them out of the western window on the patio speaking. 

> “You can hear them. You just need to try.” Ellie said from behind, reading the _jealousy_ growing in her mind. “But, it’s pretty innocent.”

She surprised herself quite a bit when the apparition was correct. As she squinted, she could hear their words. They were talking about Angel and shame over her intrusion flooded in so she cut the sound off, deciding to down the second bottle now. The shit wasn’t working … at all. Neither had the whiskey and she thought maybe if she got enough _volume_ down, it might work. 

> “Nope. You can’t get _drunk_ anymore.” Ellie chuckled. “Haven’t you figured that out yet. You can’t shut me out _anymore_.”

And for the first time in _months_ , she acknowledged her ghost verbally. “Who is she?” 

> “Why do you care?” Ellie asked.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I care?” Dawn scoffed at the question. 

> “He’ll stay with you regardless. If that’s _really_ what you want … You know he’ll pick you if you force him to chose.” Her voice was so condescending. “But, is _that_ what you really want?”

“Why wouldn’t I want him to pick me?” Dawn asked, but she already knew what the spirit would say in retort. 

> “Because you don’t love him … _not really_.” Ellie shrugged. “He’s nice to play with and all … but … Is that really fair?”

“You don’t understand anything.” Dawn spat and Ellie placed her hand gently on her shoulder, the same way Quintus had in her dream this morning. 

> “I understand _everything_. And I understand **_you_** _more than_ your precious _Boxer_.” She was leaning over to her ear from behind and Dawn’s arms peppered with tiny little bumps as she felt her breath against her neck. “He’s not the one you want, is he? He can’t ease your _ache_ , Aurora.”

“ _Quintus is gone._ ” Dawn drank her glass and grabbed the nearly full bottle from the dancing bride’s place setting. _Goddamn this voice … goddamn this_ **_thing_**. “I have to get on with my life.” Gus was walking back in from outside and she watched as _he_ watched the woman walk away slowly. Guilt washed over her completely. 

> “Yes …” It was a word, but her friend said it as if it was a _hiss_. “ _He is gone._ _You keep saying that_ and you are more right that you even realize, _child …_ ” Ellie purred quietly as she breathed across her neck again from behind, speaking directly into her ear. “ _Now_ … **_ask me the right question._** ”

“What question?” Dawn asked but when she turned to finally stare the apparition in the eyes, Ellie was completely gone as a warm breeze blew through the open hall and Gus slipped back into his chair on the other side of the happy couple as they had returned to their seats.

 _Quintus is gone._ She repeated to herself. He doesn’t **_exist_** anymore and she’s going cRaZy. _This_ madness was her _legacy_ … was it not?

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Velders!” Gus screamed at Dutch and Fet, as the married couple complied with the clanking that he had invoked on his glass around the entire hall and kissed deeply. Fet and Dutch took to the dance floor again. She had _no idea_ how they had the energy to keep going, but they did and she saw Gus stand out of the corner of her eye and looked directly at her, Dawn cringed. She _knew_ what he was about to do.

“Come on shorty!” He tried to coax her from her chair and she smiled as she shook her head, finally speaking.

“No, no. I’m good. My feet are killing me!” She denied the playful boxer through a fake grin.

“Ah, come on!” He plead with her, nudging her arm again as he tugged gently on it.

“I’m good! I’m good!” She assured and finally he relented to her will. “Maybe on a slower song, ok?”

“Aight. Aight! Imma hold you to that!” Gus showed a gigantic grin before he retreated to the dance floor, quickly finding a replacement dance partner. Dawn eyed the dark woman watching her from across the room and she drank from her glass again as she thought about the dream this morning. She remembered Quintus’ voice: 

> **_“Does he not deserve to find the same?”_ **

Fuck this world. _This is bullshit_. Why didn’t she deserve to find the same?!? Or maybe that was just it … maybe she had and it was over now. Did she have _any_ right to take Gus?

 _This is bullshit_. She found herself suddenly and irreversibly peppered with goosebumps again. She normally didn’t get cold _and_ the breeze was actually _very warm_. This wind was actually … comforting. Her eyes locked onto the empty chair beside her and she thought about Dutch’s words from this morning: 

> **_“In a way … it’s your wedding day too.”_ **

No. This was _their_ day … not _hers_ , but as she watched the couple bound about terribly on the dance floor, she knew she was about to lose it. She had no right to be so _jealous_ of them … to be so … envious. She needed to be _selfless_ today and suddenly Ellie’s words from her dream came back to her: 

> **_“Be selfish …”_ **

_This is bullshit._

She waited for her friends to be entirely distracted by their own happiness and she allowed her lying smile to _fade away_. As she stood, she grabbed her empty wine glass and the nearly full bottle from the table as she walked towards the back of the room, sitting at a distant and empty table alone.

_It’s all bullshit._

She filled her glass to the top and she finished it, watching her friends from the back of the room. Gus returned to their table to find her for the next slow song, but she had hidden herself in the corner well enough that he he gave up on this quest and returned to the dance floor alone. He wouldn’t stay alone for long though and she watched as Aanya made her way over to him.

Another pour and the bottle was finished, so she helped herself to the next bottle in the middle of her new table, filling her glass and downing it quickly again. It was at the end of the fourth glass that she shifted her attention from the dance floor to the table cloth, staring blankly at it and the tears started to well as Ellie’s words vibrated through her mind. 

> **_“You must first finish breaking …”_ **

> _When I was a child, I heard voices_
> 
> _Some would sing and some would scream_
> 
> _You’ll soon find you have few choices_
> 
> _I learned the voices died with me_
> 
> _When I knew love’s perfect ache_
> 
> _But my peace has always depended_
> 
> _On all the ashes in my wake_
> 
> **_All you have is your fire_ **
> 
> **_And the place you need to reach_ **
> 
> **_Don’t you ever tame your demons_ **
> 
> **_But always keep them on a leash_ **

She grabbed the next bottle, pouring herself a fifth glass. It wasn’t doing anything … _it fucking wasn’t working anymore_.

 _This is bullshit._ **_Bullshit._**

She began to drink it anyways as the goosebumps swam across her right arm again and she stared down at her hand longingly. It felt warm.

There was something _off_ and she felt the world slow around her painfully. She wasn’t sure if it was the wind. At first … she was _sure_ it _was_ the wind, but it clearly wasn’t. It kicked up and all the sounds in the room died down and for just one, vivid moment, she felt like she was human again. Precious silence … but it didn’t last long. The precious silence was destroyed by _his_ voice. 

> _“_ **_Libellula._ ** _”_

_She missed that name._

> “Please …”

 _That tone._

> “ _Please_ do _not_ be sad.”

 _That accent._

> “I am –”

_That underlying rattle._

And as quickly as it had come, _it was gone_. There was a lingering warmth across her forehead and she touched it gingerly as a his name danced across her lips.

_“Q-Q-Quintus?”_

When she spun around, the only person she could focus on was her dead friend standing conspicuously across the hall with an unhappy look smeared across her face. As their eyes locked, Ellie turned and walked out to the patio.

She stood and stared at the bottle for a moment before leaving it there. As she approached the patio, the couple who were occupying it left with a smile and she approached Ellie, who was standing, facing the setting sun.

Dawn placed her hands on the railing next to her _friend_ and she stared out into the water. “He was here.” 

> “ ** _Yes_**.” Ellie’s answers were normally so cheerful and wordy and playful and … This was short and curt.

“He still … _exists?_ ” Dawn had to force the words out of her mouth. 

> “Apparently so.” Ellie sighed.

“You … saw him?” 

> “ ** _Yes_**.”

“What does it mean?” Dawn pouted significantly. 

> Ellie looked at her now, her face devoid of all emotion. “That’s not the right question, is it?”

“Why?” 

> “No. _That’s_ not the right question either.” Ellie stated.

“ _NO_.” Dawn turned to face her, matching her stern gaze with equal intensity. “Enough of your lies … enough of your _bullshit_. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

Ellie tried to smile, but something was obviously changed as she shifted in her stance. She cocked her head from the left to the right, back and forth inquisitively. A shiver ran down Dawn’s spine as it was done in a way that was highly unnatural. Like a bird. _Yes._ But, she already knew this … didn’t she? 

> “I’m here to help you.” Ellie said confidently.

“ _Bullshit_. You want something.” Her eyes were fierce and Ellie raised an eyebrow at her fire. 

> “No. It’s not. I’m here _for you_. I’ve _always_ been here for you.”

“You’re a liar. _Everything_ you say is a lie.” 

> “I’m _here for you_ , Aurora. I always have been.” She took a deep breath in and smiled genuinely this time. “You just weren’t able to see me before … he fixed that. I’m here because _I need you as much as you need me_. That’s not a lie. I’ve never lie–”

Dawn scoffed, as she threw her hands up toward the _ghost_. “ ** _You are lying right now!_** ” She took a step back and looked her up and down as her eyes focused for a moment on her bare feet while she spat aggravation towards the _apparition_. 

> “Excuse me?” Ellie seemed hurt but Dawn shook her head, unwilling to accept this lie any further. “Lying about what exactly?”

“You want me to trust you.” Dawn stated plainly. “ _Then that needs to go both ways._ ”

She could tell there was some internal conflict inside of the _apparition_ and finally, the spirit spoke after nodding to herself several times. 

> “What gave me away?” The thing trying to be Ellie asked with an innocent grin.

Dawn smiled and pointed down. “Your _fucking_ shoes.” 

> The ghost looked down at her bare feet entirely confused. “What _fucking_ shoes?!?”

“ _Exactly_.” Dawn chuckled lowly. “Ellie _always_ wore the most … _god awful sandals_ I’ve ever seen _anywhere_. _Everywhere_. _All the time_. Since we were kids.”

The liar shook her head back and forth as she brought a hand up to her forehead with a simple laugh. 

> “Goddamn it. You _women_ and _your fucking shoes_. I honestly never paid attention to her _damn shoes_. All these fucking years.”

“What do you mean you never paid attention–” 

> As the liar looked up, she smiled genuinely. “I told you I’ve _always_ been here. I wasn’t lying about that. I’ve been watching you since you were born … I wasn’t lying–”

“Except **_who_** you are.” Dawn finished and the false Ellie shrugged in innocence. 

> “I didn’t think you would accept me. Most don’t.” Her voice was sad and bitter. “I didn’t think you would _hear_ me out.”

“You assumed.  You didn’t trust me.” Dawn frowned. “He didn’t trust me either.” 

> **_“Don’t take it so personally … I don’t trust anyone.”_ **

“Show me. Show me your _real_ face.” Dawn demanded and she watched in silence as the facade melted away from the figure. The _tall, slender woman_ slowly morphed, losing a few inches, into a slender man with a gaunt but beautiful face. His hair was raven black, his race indeterminate and his eyes, a patchwork of beautiful colors.

None of this shocked her because she already knew _that_ face. She’d seen it so many times and she smiled at him, finally comfortable with his visage. She _knew_ this was who he really was. The fourth serpent. Deep down inside, she had _always_ known. This was truth. 

> “If you knew who I really am, you would understand that.” The man with the patchwork eyes said to her lowly and she turned away from him to watch as the sun finally dipped below the horizon line.

The riddle that had rumbled across her subconscious broke free, and she felt a shiver as the final puzzle piece shifted clearly and snuggly into place. “You should have trusted me.” She said plainly, regarding the answer that had revealed itself in her mind. “Because I already know who you are.” 

> “Oh yeah?” He laughed in entertained disbelief. “I doubt that very much, my little atheist. Who exactly do you _think_ I am?”

That voice. She recognized it. Not just from that dream, but from long _before_ it. Dawn stared as the sky progressively became darker and the stars became visible, smiling while she pawed over her memories of this morning and the clues that _the real_ Ellie had given her.

“You are … “ She turned to face him again, her logical mind fighting what she was about to say. He was right … she was an _atheist_ … wasn’t she? “ _The Morning Star._ ”

It was apparent that he was _not_ expecting that and his own face grew a wicked and glorious little smile at her words. He stared at her with high regard and when he didn’t speak again immediately, she did.

“ ** _Lucifer_**.”

She remembered Ellie’s words: “ _ **by whatever means necessary.** ”  So be it._

God damn _that_ smile … The sound of his own name caused him to writhe in _near_ ecstasy as he flashed his perfect teeth fully and she caught a glimpse of overdeveloped canines within his mouth. 

> “My friends call me _EL_. And you … are _so much more than just a friend._ ” He purred to her in satisfaction of her cleverness. “Now, my tiny Aurora … **_Ask me the right question_**.”

So many riddles in one day, but she was more than up to the challenge for one more and she grinned to him. She already _knew_ what the question was. She knew what it was the moment _he_ had asked it inside.

“Quintus is gone.” She stated again. 

> “Yes.” He hissed. “He is.”

**_“So … Where did he go?”_ **

Lucifer smirked with unearthly delight.

##  **Denial.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Absolutely brilliant commission by [@needlesslycryptic](needlesslycryptic.tumblr.com)
> 
> ┏(＾0＾)┛┗(＾0＾) ┓


	25. Interlude 3 - Between the Conception and the Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

>   ** _8 Months Ago_ **
> 
> **_In a tiny, warm cabin, nestled in the storming woodlands not far from Lake Onondaga_ **

He wrapped his arms around her, snuggling into her skin as he realized how very tired he was. Had he ever felt this type of _fatigue_ before? He’d _never_ found slumber after this act before and yet, right now, he felt completely emotionally drained. He uttered it one last time before he drifted off.

_“Te amo.”_

 

* * *

 

As he finished again, panting deeply into her neck with heavy breaths, he gripped her everywhere he could with his hands, eagerly and clumsily, as he expelled himself with moaning convulsions. As the serenity of the aftermath set in, he wrapped his arms completely around her and spun them ninety degrees such that he was no longer on top, but to the side and Dawn laid in silence for a moment, enjoying his body pressed against hers. She pushed her face into his chest and realized the stillness of the moment was going on longer than she had expected and it wasn’t until she heard his rattled snore that she realized _he had fallen asleep_.

Wait … he was still … _inside_. _OMG, Quintus_.

She moved her body a bit and a snort escaped his mouth, but he gripped her firmly to his chest as he returned to a steady snore. She considered actually waking him _up_ first, but decided to try and move one more time before waking the peaceful dhampir. She shifted again and this time his grip loosened, allowing her to finally pull her body from his and ease herself free of his softening shaft.

As she pulled and he slid out of her, Quintus murmured something lowly in Latin under his breath from the sensation of leaving her moist flesh, and she watched his face carefully, expecting him to wake, but he didn’t. The ass remained entirely asleep.

 _Whelp, that was a first_.

He made a sudden movement to grab her again and she moved quickly, rolling herself off the couch and hitting the ground below with her knees. It was ill-planned and she hit the floor with a hard and loud thump.

_Ouch. Shit._

She _fully_ expected him to wake up this time and as she popped up on all fours to look at his face, he was still completely asleep with almost a grin spread across his slumbering face.

 _What the crap?!?_

> “Well … _this_ is how you kill a _dhampir_ , apparently.” She mused to herself and she looked down at the mess dripping out of her. He had left her with cleanup … _again_.
> 
> “ _Ugh._ Rude. O.K., we’re gonna to have to talk to him about _that_. He keeps leaving us with the mess to clean–”
> 
> “Would you rather have it down the throat again? Yeah … _no thanks_. We’re not having _that_ conversation with him. Awkward much?”

She found the towel that he had given her earlier and this time she wet it with the water he had melted for her on the hearth. This allowed a much in depth scrubbing rather than the simple wiping she had done before. As she rubbed, she made sure to listen for his continued rattling from behind and once she was finished, she looked around and wondered what to do next.

She checked her clothes and found them still damp and when there was a snort from behind she swung around quickly as she instinctively covered herself, one hand across her bare breasts and the other over her nether region. When she found him still sleeping, she relaxed and her hands fell to her sides. 

> “He’s already seen us naked.”
> 
> “So what?”

She knelt and poked at the fire for a minute before deciding she better not mess with it, as she might destroy whatever impressive configuration he had made with the logs. Eventually she sighed, looking around again for something to pass the time. She considered crawling back into his arms but she didn’t want to chance falling asleep.

Whatever time they had left, she didn’t want to _waste_ it sleeping and just as she began to turn back towards the couch, she spied his pants bunched up on the ground, just where he had left them when he had offered her his _backside_ … her mind giggled a bit even thinking about the word … _for punishment_.

Unmoved for a moment, she stared at the pants and a shameful thought danced across her mind. She’d remembered him showing her his _most precious trinket_ that night in the high rise condo and she had watched him remove it from his front pocket to show her, before taking it back and shoving it back into the front pocket.

 _Was it still there?_

> “Oh … don’t do _that_.”
> 
> “What? Do what? He showed it to us before ….”
> 
> “Don’t pry. That’s _so_ not cool.”
> 
> “How’s it prying? We’ve already seen it before …”
> 
> “Come on … you don’t want to be _that_ kind of girl.”
> 
> “What kind of girl?”
> 
> “The _jealous_ kind.”
> 
> “It’s not jealousy … I just wanted to see it again … I just want to look at it again. That’s all. I just want to see–”
> 
> “You want to compare us … to _her_. Nothing _good_ can come from that.”

She _knew_ she was making sense and rather than continue the losing argument, she convinced herself she would just … _fold the pants_ and put them on the chair. They were in the way anyways, right?

Yeah. That’s it. As she bent over to retrieve them, she turned back towards the fire and folded the garment at the middle, carefully running her hand over the pocket. She just wanted to _feel_ it and when she couldn’t find it, she checked the other side.

 _Nothing. Wait …_ **_nothing_**?

Maybe she missed it? She reached into the pocket fully and it was in this moment, when her hand was fully inside of the cookie jar, she noticed the rattled snore had … _completely stopped_.

 

* * *

>   _Clarify_
> 
> _Pacify our love_
> 
> _Oh show_
> 
> _Tell me I’m the only one_
> 
> _Like I didn’t know_

His eyes opened silently and he watched her from behind for a few second, his eyes moving from the pleasant curves of her butt to the fumbling of her hands within his pants. He wondered if he should say anything, but he just waited in anticipation to see what she would do with them.

Suddenly, she spun around with a beautifully shocked look painted across her spotted face and her eyes locked onto his open ones. During the spin, she pulled her hand out of his pocket and let the length of the pants drop down in front of her as she held the waist against her chest, shielding her curves from him. He grinned slightly at both her continued shyness as well as her embarrassment of him _catching_ her investigative search.

Quintus was a _very smart man_ , but it did not take a genius to know what she was fishing for in his pockets.

“Oh.” Her face flushed with lovely rose and his smile widened as he waited in patient silence for her to attempt an flustered explanation. “I … _uh_ … I was just … _uh_ … _folding your pants_.”

She almost pointed to the ground where they had been, but as she started to and the pants came away from her flesh, she pulled her hand back to shield herself. She’d been too quick for him to see anything and he sighed. He was hoping for at least a glimpse of her.

_Damnation._

Her discomfort increased as she crossed her legs a bit and one hand came down to push the pants against her crotch to hide herself even further from him.

“And it requires going through the pockets to … _fold_ my pants?” He questioned playfully as his sideways grin grew and his right eyebrow raised slightly.

“Um … I …” She stood still in growing humiliation.

As much as he was enjoying making her squirm with shy awkwardness, it would only make her wish to shield herself from him further and he rolled over his back, placing his hand above and behind his head to expose his chest and make room for him to join her. “ _Come here._ ”

He was surprised by the commanding tone of it after it had escaped his mouth, but then again… _it was a command_ , wasn’t it? He stared at her intensely, waiting for her to obey, but when she stared at him, affording him no compliance, he qualified it further with a playful and devilish grin. “ ** _Now_**.”

 _That_ word also escaped before he could stop it, and he immediately regretted the firmness of this command more than the last as he silently watched the internal conflict that ensued in her mind and expressed across her face. He would have apologized for the rudeness of it, as he _really did_ wish her to join him quite badly, but, as they had already decided … _There would be no apologies today_ and he waited patiently, crawling his eyes over every inch of her _visible_ flesh with precision.

Her brow furrowed, then her nose and finally a pout landed on her face and never left. He sighed, giving her a gentle smile. “ _Alright … How about …_ **_Please_**.” He patted the cushion next to him with timid eagerness and her pout only increased.

Quintus bit his lip as he saw her take the first step towards him before hesitating slightly, “Fine.” Another step and she stopped again, squinting at him. “But only because I want to.”

He purred with a low and intimidating growl, attempting to assure her that he understood her compliance was _only_ by her own choice. He was sure it was … _wasn’t it_? He grinned at the thought of it either way. “Of course.”

“I … I thought you were sleeping.” She confessed as she closed the distance between them and once she was within his reach, he grabbed his pants and tugged at the fabric with determination but her grip on them was firm though she did smile slightly at his action. He could have just ripped them away, but he wanted her to expose herself to him willingly. He had taken from her too much already, and now he wished to allow her to give in to him voluntarily.

“I was. Quite soundly.” Should he explain that it was her elevated anxiety that woke him suddenly? That her heart was racing as she clumsily pawed through his pants trying to be sneaky. No, he decided it was best to keep _that_ to himself.

She stood next to the couch and he looked up at her steadily. “I’m so–” A quiet stutter as she held back an apology. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes … you did.” He said calmly and he found the blush that danced across her cheeks amusing as she shifted in her stance nervously. “Does that cause you shame?”

“Shame?” His question caught her off guard as she swallowed carefully. “For being nosy?” Her guilt was absolutely clear.

“ _Nosy_. Or … Curious? Inquisitive?” He knew it was none of those words and as he tugged at the pants again, urging her to at least sit on the open space next to his sprawled naked body but she frowned, only gripping the loops of his pants tighter in her clenched fists, holding it against her bare clavicle. “Or is it something else then?” He pulled again at the fabric with a sideways smirk. “Perhaps possibly … **_jealousy_**?”

Her lack of response was easily an answer in the affirmative and he finally leaned towards her, grabbing the meat of her hips to pull her down onto the cushion beside him sideways, allowing her to continue to hide herself from him. She didn’t try to fight the motion, but he knew it wouldn’t have mattered if she had tried. He wished her to sit, by any means necessary.

“Are you … _disappointed_ in me?” She asked, sighing dramatically as she tilted her head forward and closed her eyes in hushed remorse. Her breaths were deep and controlled and he laughed out loud at her silly demeanour.

His chuckle was not well received as it caused her to look at him with sad eyes. She thought he was laughing _at_ her, and as he reached out to tilt her chin to him, he shook his head.

“I have no right to be, do I?” He purred as his fingers traced the spotted skin from her elbow to her wrist and back down again.

“What? Why not?” She watched his hand carefully as it touched her skin.

“That would be quite hypocritical of me.” Laying back down, he propped his closest arm back behind his head as he regarded her and he relaxed fully again. He was still _very_ tired and as he stared at her, he found his eyes growing heavy again. “I have shown far more _jealousy_ than you, have I not?”

“Jealousy? _When?_ ” She asked with genuine curiosity and he tilted his head to the right, trying to gauge whether she was being entirely serious. Did she really not remember? “You don’t mean Sargent–”

He didn’t wish to hear that plebeian’s name _ever again_ , so he interrupted her immediately. “I very nearly killed that boy, _Libellula_.” He stated so matter of factly that she looked at him with passing shock. “If you had not stopped me, I would have done so. _Slowly and meticulously … with cruelty_.”

“Quintus.” There was _almost_ a smile on her face from his statement, but it faded quickly as the inappropriateness of being amused by it settled in. “No, that’s not the same.” She argued. “You thought he was _hurting_ me, that’s diff–”

“Do not be swayed by my _obvious_ lie.” Yes, he _had_ made _that_ excuse to her in that room when he beat the man down, but did she not realize how far from the truth that was? “I knew he was not hurting you. Not _really_. From the moment I first saw him eye you on the sidewalk, I was already resolved to _killing him_.”

“Quintus!” She was increasingly shocked by his words and he smiled even wider. “You … “ She squinted at him accusingly. “Wait … You were watching me? _I knew it!_ You were _ignoring_ me! How long were you watching us?”

>   _You are dangerous, but I don’t care_
> 
> _I’m gon’ to pretend that I’m not scared_
> 
> _If this only ends in tears_
> 
> _Then I won’t say goodbye_
> 
> _‘Cause I couldn’t_
> 
> _'Cause I couldn’t care less_
> 
> _If they call us reckless_
> 
> _Until they are breathless_
> 
> _They must be blind_
> 
> _Let them say there are warning signs_
> 
> _They must be blind_
> 
> _They must be blind_
> 
> _They say_
> 
> _If this only ends in tears_
> 
> _Then I won’t say goodbye_

“It is unwise to assume you are **_ever_** outside of my **_attention_**.” This was a falsehood, but he enjoyed the look that it caused to flash across her freckled face and Quintus bit his lip as he resisted the urge to pull his pants fully away from her chest.

“Surely you are _not_ shocked by this.” His tone was playful yet authoritative. “I believe you _to know_ me better than _most_.” Perhaps she did know him _best_ , but that still didn't’ mean that she _really_ knew him. Perhaps he could fix that …

“You just never struck me as …” Her words trailed off and she hesitated on finishing her sentence, staring down at his chest before bringing her eyes up guiltily to him. He knew this look. She wished to say something she thought would displease him.

“As what?” He pried delicately and deliberately.

“The … _jealous_ type.” She admitted.

“Hmmm … “ He breathed out heftily. She did not know him well at all then. He was _incredibly_ jealous over things that were _his_. “So would you prefer I _not_ care then?” He posed innocently yet connivingly as his body stirred in reaction to her continued futile modesty.

He could remember each and _every_ inch of her with absolute clarity and his imagination interpolated her figure, even behind the fabric, calculating with absolute precision exactly how her curves were falling with each movement. If her intention of covering herself was to ward off his seemingly insatiable hunger, it was having nearly the opposite effect.

“No … I’m not saying _that_ …” She sighed as he could see her fumbling for words within her mind. He was glad that _he_ was not the only one who was bad at choosing the correct words to speak to _the other_. “I mean … I assumed you were …” Her voice trailed off and he watched her thoughtful eyes carefully for a brief moment of silence as the storm creaked the wooden roof above.

“So … Then what _type_ do you consider me?” He pressed the conversation further.

“I don’t know …” One of her hands finally left its grip on the pants as she reached out slowly and touched his chest, running her fingers quickly over one of his scars, before the realization of her action set in and she tried to pull her hand away in embarrassment. He was fast and his far hand caught her retreating one, placing it back against his chest as he rattled. “You’ve always come across as …”

“Cold?” He offered the word that he would have used to describe himself, but she denied this suggestion so he tried another. “Callous?”

“ _Apathetic_.” Her fingers traced tiny circles on his warm flesh and he sighed heavily at the sensation of the contact, drinking in the soft friction of her skin against his. “That you don’t really feel anything at all. That you really don’t _care_.”

“Whatever my outward appearance might _lack in conveyance_ , never doubt the conflict that rages within … “ As much as he wished to allow her circular touches to continue their dance on his chest, he placed his hand on hers, pushing it down above his heart firmly. “… is _far_ from _apathetic_.”

“I know …” She assured him and he released her hand, allowing her fingers to brush his chest again.

“So …” She started as he could see her curiosity was piqued. “What _type_ would you prefer _me_ to be then?”

“I have _no preference._ ” He confessed a lie. He would _very_ much like her to care as much as he did and her prying actions conveyed this much to him clearly. _Neither_ of them liked to share.

“So you actually _don’t_ care then?”

“Quite the opposite.” He cocked his head to the right slightly as he spoke truthfully, twirling a thick handful of her hair within his fingers. “I care _very much_ and … I prefer you to be _who you are_.” He sat his body up from its relaxed position as he brought the hair to his nose, breathing it in deeply as he appreciated the length and softness of it. “I prefer you to be exactly as you naturally are. I do not wish to _change_ you.” Grumbling lowly as he took another massive smell of the locks again before leaning further in and nestling his nose into the hairline just behind her ear. “I prefer you to not _hide_ yourself in _any way_. Let me take you as you are.”

His nose tickled her and her body scrunched up in enchanting agony as she giggled, pulling away from him slightly. “Even if I’m a **_CrAzY_** , _jealous ass–_ ”

“ _Yes._ ” He hissed in delight. “ _Especially_ if you **_are_**. Please.” He groaned into her neck again, repeating the same tantalizing tickle as he interrupted her impending argument. “If you have yet to notice … I do not react so … _cordially_ to such things and … “ He pulled away from her neck as he gripped her jaw, holding her face directly in front of her. “I do not wish to hide _myself_ any longer.”

“Quintus–”

“I do not wish to hide myself _ever again_.” He confessed. And suddenly, he wished to confess _everything_ to her. He wished her to _know_ him. “Besides … am I not an _ass_ as well?”

>   _Remember those walls I built_
> 
> _Well, baby, they’re tumbling down_
> 
> _And they didn’t even put up a fight_
> 
> _They didn’t even make a sound_
> 
> _I found a way to let you win_
> 
> _But I never really had a doubt_
> 
> _Standing in the light of your halo_
> 
> _I got my angel now_
> 
> _It’s like I’ve been awakened_
> 
> _Every rule I had you break it_
> 
> _It’s the risk that I’m taking_
> 
> _I ain’t never gonna shut you out_
> 
> _Everywhere I’m looking now_
> 
> _I’m surrounded by your embrace_
> 
> _Baby, I can see your halo_
> 
> _You know you’re my saving grace_
> 
> _You’re everything I need and more_
> 
> _It’s written all over your face_
> 
> _Baby, I can feel your halo_
> 
> _Pray it won’t fade away_
> 
> **_I can feel your halo (halo) halo_ **
> 
> **_I can see your halo (halo) halo_ **

Staring into his ice blue eyes, she reassured him simply. “You aren’t a _bad person_.”

“ _Bad_?” He looked down. “I believe that to be a relative term. But no matter your definition. I am certainly a very _bad person_. You should know that I have done _terrible_ things …”

“Quintus, you’ve–”

“I killed _that man_.” He disclosed suddenly and his words seemed to confuse her. “I murdered him for what he did to you.” Touching her face where he had cleaned the wounds the night in the condo. The wounds _that_ mercenary had inflicted on her that fateful day when everything changed.

“The one in the yard?” She asked. “I know you killed him. You saved me.”

“Indeed. _That_ man as well.” Quintus nodded as he pursed his lips together as he recollected the quick death of _that_ man by his sword. “Though _his_ death was more merciful than the _other_.”

“What … _other_?”

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to confess this act to her now as he’d killed _so very many_ , but he also knew he had killed _so very few_ in the manner in which this man had died. Did he feel lingering guilt over the excessive amount of torture he had inflicted? As he looked at her face and touched the healed areas that had been wrecked by the beating _that thing_ had enacted on her, _he knew he felt no shame_.

“The one who took you from me _that_ day.” As the meaning behind his touches to her face struck her, he qualified furthered, through clenched teeth. “ _The one who beat you._ I found him. He was there.”

“How do you know …” There was a brief pause as he examined her expressions. It pained her to remember being _so weak_. He understood this feeling. “How do you know it was _him_?”

“He was covered in your blood. His clothes … his hands … his …” Quintus twitched at the memory of it. “Knuckles. Your scent … you …” Another twitch escaped, more violent than the first. “You were all over him.” He twirled her hair one more time around his index finger before he confided even further. “I _tortured_ him … _ruthlessly_. The cruelty I showed that man impressed even _me_. I have _never_ done _that_ to another living creature before.”

He watched it sink into her and he wondered suddenly what the point of this was. He usually kept this dark side of himself shielded entirely; hidden and away from prying eyes. Why would he risk disappointing _her_ , of all people, this way? Why was he risking her disapproval or even worse … her fear?

“What did you do to him?” He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to disclose the horrific details, but her face was more curious than afraid and he felt more confident in telling her … _everything_.

“I believed you dead … my anger was … **_unforgiving_**. _I tore him apart from the inside out while I kept him alive …_ so that he could _watch_.” His tone was eerily calm as he remembered reaching inside of the man’s abdomen and pulling out chunks at a time and he locked eyes with her as he finished his disclosure. “I watched the life drain from his eyes and I smiled upon his misery.”

Watching for her reaction _very carefully_ while she internalized his words, he looked for any tell that might give him insight to her thoughts, but she gave none immediately away. Finally, she moved her eyes from returning his stare to look upon her own hand, which she had pulled back to her lap. At first, he thought it was because she did not wish to touch him any longer and he was saddened, but he realized it was because she felt shame for her next word before she even spoke it.

“Good.” She turned her own hand up and started at the palm of it as she whispered. “Is that …” She looked up to him. “… _horrible_ of me?” Her forehead raised with growing dismay over her _own_ words and she stated plainly, “Yes. _That_ makes me a terrible person.”

“No … “ He shook his head as relief washed over him and his heartbeat increased. “It is _honest_ of you. He hurt you.” Quintus reached out and interlaced his fingers within hers. “He did not need to hurt you as he did. He was a cruel man.”

Was this justifying his own actions? He wasn’t sure, but he also knew he needed no justification for himself. He was offering her some reprieve from the guilt that he _knew_ was consuming her. He had been there as well, he had felt _that_ as well.

“I deserved it.” She frowned. “I killed his friends.”

“They were soldiers. They struck first. It is no one’s fault but their own.”

However true his words were, the dismay painted across her face didn’t retreat and she breathed deeply, staring down to her lap and at their interleaved hands. “ _I killed a man._ ” She whispered again in shame.

“You have killed many men. I have seen their bodies.” He shrugged. “But I assure you, I have killed more.”

“No.” Her voice trembled slightly. “This one was different … I _killed_ him …” He could see the same conflict raging inside of her as she worried what he might think of her and he gripped her hand as she finished the sentence. “ _… in cold blood._ ” Swallowing slowly, she continued and he allowed her without interruption. “It was a soldier at the base … I … I thought you were _dead_ and … I shot him. In the head … I don’t think I needed to … I was just so mad … _I thought you were dead …_ ”

“It haunts you.” He could see it and he understood _this_ feeling. He had come to terms with this feeling a _very_ long time ago.

“I see his face … a lot. I wonder about his life … I–”

“It is a terrible thing to accept, but … it _will_ get better. Trust me.” He _knew_ this wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but he also knew it was the truth. “His face will fade over time … and it will get _easier_ to kill each time you must.”

 _There_ was the look he had been expecting earlier. She looked at him with horror over his statements and he gripped her hand tighter as she stuttered. “I … I don’t want it to get _easier_.”

“ ** _Nor did I._** I did not wish to be numb to it, either.” He sighed. “But … it will happen nonetheless.” He stroked her skin gently. “It will take time for you to accept that, like me, you are not bound by the same moral _rules_ as those around you.”

There was no response and he brought her hand up to his lips, leaving a tender kiss on her index knuckle before he offered her one last piece of condolencing logic and she nodded at it, accepting it entirely. “Besides, you should feel no lingering guilt about _that_ situation. The base was overrun and I am certain you offered him a more _humane_ release as opposed to the future my _father_ would have afforded him.”

“I just …” She murmured in heartache. “I _never thought_ I would be a _murderer._ I mean … I’ve always struggled with being a _kind_ person, but–”

“ _Kind?_ ” He chuckled. “ _No_. You are not a _kind person_.” He smirked and she looked up with a dramatic frown. “You are like me.”

“And what are _you?_ ” She questioned.

“ _A survivor._ ” Giving it one last kiss, he replaced her hand on his chest as he smiled even wider. “It is what first drew me to you.”

“I’m kind.” She pouted before stating plainly. “I saved you. I didn’t have to–”

“You did not save me out of kindness.” He smirked even further. “You saved me out of necessity … out of … practicality.” He stirred from his relaxed position, pulling himself up to meet her frowning lips. The kiss was extended and wet. He finished it with his tongue brushing her closed mouth. Disappointed that she did not open herself for him, he stared down to her mouth as he purred further words of encouragement. “Do not shy away from _this fact. Never shy away from your strength._ ”

“ _This fact_?” She sneered to him. “What? That I’m a _killer_?”

“You misunderstand still … I was not drawn _to a killer_ nor was a I drawn to a _saint_.” Another wet and long kiss as he rattled through it. “I was not drawn to the _kind person_ that you _long_ to be.” His fingers traced up her arm slowly, running along her shoulder to her clavicle and touching the other hand that still gripped his fabric to her chest fiercely.

“I was drawn to the _warrior_ that you so obviously are.” He had wished to let her release her guard on her own time, but he pinched one of the belt loops and tugged it as her hold released and he exposed her fully. “Regardless of what either of us _long_ to be … we were _both_ born **_warriors_**.”

As he dropped the pants back to the ground, she looked at them sadly, remembering finally what had sparked this entire conversation. “Where is it? Where did it go?”

“I have it no longer.” He stated plainly and without any hint of sadness. He felt no guilt over the act and he was now more certain of its necessity than he had even been when he had dropped the locket into the rush water hours earlier.

“What? What happened to it?” She asked with growing concern. “Did you lose it?” There was a brief look of sad horror on her face and she asked further. “Did _they_ take it from you?”

She referred to the military and he shook his head. “No. I simply no longer had a use for it.” He stated simply as he gripped her now free hand and placed it upon his scarred cheek.

“Use for it? What _use_ was it before?”

“It helped me for _many_ years … to stay focused … to remain vigilant … to _never_ forget my reasons.” He said.

“You shouldn’t want to …” Her voice was full of guilt, shame … sadness. “… forget. You shouldn’t–”

“No. _I will never forget_ , but it’s presence was doing nothing other than hindering me now.” He regarded her fully as he laid back down, encouraging her to lay beside him with a pat to his breast and she complied, using his chest as a pillow while he wrapped his thick arm around her. “My reluctance to give up the past nearly cost me what I have wanted more than anything in my long existence … ”

He smiled, knowing her argument was not yet finished. “But, you didn’t have to get rid of it … you’ve had it for so long–”

“It was time.” His chest purred with vibration. “I had to let it go. I will never forget the past, but it is no longer what I want.  _She is no longer …_ ” Would he utter these words out loud? Quintus sighed a small breath of relief as he heard the _Poet_ breathing deeply on his chest.

He would tell her when she woke … He would not need to utter them yet as she had fallen asleep and he closed his own eyes, joining her in sweet peaceful slumber.


	26. Commission Art - The Brothers - Gabriel and Raphael

[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/159658067273)

##  _**Incredible commission by[@nagecho](http://nagecho.tumblr.com/)** _


	27. 4.1 - Knowledge

&;amp;nbsp; 

> _I’ve been playing with my demons_
> 
> _Making troubles for yourself_
> 
> _And these days are far from over_
> 
> _You know I can’t help myself_
> 
> _I love coming for you baby_
> 
> _And it’s killing me inside_
> 
> _I’ve been dying for you baby_
> 
> _Almost every single night_

She steered it with ease, as the boat bounced across the rocky waves. She had actually never driven a boat before, but after watching Gus so many times, she picked it up quickly. EL was more than willing to help her with anything that she had missed and she had left the wedding without a word to anyone, taking the Boxer’s boat without asking permission. When she left, he was talking to Aanya again so it’d be a while before he would notice she was gone. Regardless, she felt the need to hurry anyways.

Heading back towards the island, she watched the dark-haired man standing at the front of the boat, standing as erect as possible as he put his hands out into the wind ahead of them. Even though the night was moonless, she could see him and everything about with perfect clarity.

She regarded him carefully. He was taller than her, but that was easy, wasn’t it? Nearly everyone was. His face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken but well defined, his skin perfectly uniform and pale in color. His hair was shiny and raven. Overall, he was quite striking. His body was _very_ lean and his clothing was dark and modern. He was overly pleased with himself at least 99% of the time.

She quickly decided he wasn’t her type at all and while she was staring at him, he turned his attention from the sea before them and flashed her one of his charismatic smiles causing a chill to run down her spine … _temporarily_. She thought she _should_ be afraid of him, but she also knew that what he had said was entirely accurate.

He had always been there, hadn’t he? So, his presence was something she was actually used to. Then, what was there to be afraid of? If he was going to hurt her, he would have done so a long time ago … if it was even possible. She doubted it was. He didn’t seem to be able to touch anything in this world … other than her.

As the boat bounded towards its destination, she replayed their earlier conversation on the patio before she had made her escape from her friends. She pawed through the words over and over.

 _“Then_ **_where_** _did he go?”_ She had asked …

EL answered by looking up in the darkening sky above and she cringed. Some part of her was expecting that answer and she shook her head at him. She didn’t believe in that _shit_.

“Bullshit.”

“Oh so you can believe that I’m the _Morning Star_ , but you don’t believe in _Heaven_? That seems strangely _contradictory?_ ” He grinned mischievously.

She thought about her next words carefully and he waited _very_ patiently, raising an eyebrow to her in the process while he watched her think.

“Alright. I’ll bite … but, if he’s there … then how was he here just now?”

“That’s a _good_ question, actually.” He snickered. “I have no clue honestly. Maybe _Heaven_ isn’t as strict as it used to be … but I kinda doubt that. That place is a _fucking prison_ now.” He shrugged innocently. “Either way, color me impressed … I didn’t think they’d actually allow him to _exist_ to tell you the truth. The fam’s pretty _judgemental_ when it comes to _his kind_.”

“What do you mean _allowed to exist_?”

“I figured they’d have snuffed him out by now … “ He pinched his right index and thumb together, making a noise as if he was putting out the flame of match. She threw him a particularly horrified look and he shrugged innocently. “Sorry, them’s the rules and they never stray from _The Word_ and _The Law_. It’s what they do to _his kind_ … to … “ He looked at her and paused with a sinister eyebrow. “ _Your kind_.”

“My kind?” She questioned. “And what kind is that?”

“ _Halflings_.” Goodness, that smile was incredibly menacing and yet, she brushed it off. She would not be intimidated by him, no matter how much he tried.

“What’re you talking about? I’m not like Quintus. I’m not strigoi.”

“He knew, you know …” He turned to look out across the water, speaking with his back to her. “He _knew_ what he was and he _thought_ he knew what you were … he just didn’t trust you enough to tell you.”

She fought the urge to call _bullshit_ on this claim and instead she pushed for more answers. “What kind of _halfling_?”

“Many thousands of years ago … “ He turned back to her, leaning against the rail as he crossed his arms over his chest, he began to recant a tale. “My _brothers_ were sent here, as they often were back then, to punish. On this night it would be two _very, very_ ** _naughty_** _cities_.” He paused with a small chuckle, expecting her to question something and when she didn’t, he continued happily. “I had laid a trap and my eldest brother fell _right into it_ , the stupid fool … He wasn’t my fucking _target_ that day.” He bit his lip in frustration over the disclosed memories and she listened quietly, not yet understanding what it meant or how it would attribute to either her or Quintus.

“The eldest … _Ozryel … Right Hand of God_ … _Angel of Death,_ himself … The ‘ _smartest_ ’ of the _five. Ha!_ ” EL scoffed at the last statement but continued on quickly. “That day … **_I_** corrupted the oldest creature in existence. In response, he was felled and bled out onto the Earth, left to rot, just like _me_.” There was another pause of annoyance as he flared his nostrils slightly. “And from his broken and bloody corpse, seven demon spawn arose.”

“Seven?” She asked and he grinned at her budding cleverness.

He took a deep breath and carefully pulled something from his memory, reciting it word for word. “The _second_ to fall … cast down to Earth in seven parts. Severed, alone, disconnected. Cursed to body. _Cursed of Blood._ **_Cursed to Blood._** ”

“The strigoi.” Her voice trailed off as she internalized it fully, connecting the strange dots of his meandering story into some kind of logical order.

“Almost … but _not exactly_. I’m talking about their forefathers. The vampire lords themselves.” He corrected her as he turned to match her gaze. “ _The Ancients_.”

“You’re saying Quintus isn’t a _dhampir_.”

“Not exactly … _No_. He’s not half _strigoi_ , per se. He’s half _something else_ entirely.”

“ _Halfling_ …” She repeated his earlier word.

“Say it.” He egged her on. “I _know_ you _know_ the name. You’ve always known it. I’ve whispered it into your ear since the day you were born …” His voice had a lingering purr to it and as he spoke, he smiled devilishly.

“ _Nephilim_.” She whispered and he waited patiently for her to speak next. He was expecting what she would say next. “He’s part _angel_.”

“Very good, Aurora.” He clapped playfully. “But make no mistake … He was made not from just _any angel_. He is from _Hayyoth, the Living Creatures_.”

“Hayyoth?” She squinted at him.

“The Archangels. He’s the _most forbidden_ type of _halfling. Hoxmarch. The Feared._ ”

“So …” A sense of relief mixed with sadness rushed over her. “He was **_never_** a _monster then_.”

“You already knew _that_ though.” EL shrugged off her statement as if it was worthless to him. “You _never_ saw him as a _monster_ anyways.”

“But he saw himself as one.” She looked out across the ocean as she sighed at the revelation of it all. _An angel._ She could see this, she might have _always_ seen this. He wasn’t a _monster_.

“Eh. No, he didn’t.” He waved off her statement with a dismissive hand and an annoyed tone. “ _He totally already knew all of this_ and … he decided to keep it from you.” Sighing heavily, he rolled his hand in a forward circling gesture to express his growing impatience. “Come on. _This is boring_. I don’t wanna talk about _him_ right now … ask me the _important_ stuff. I’ll tell you _everything_.” He seemed to be excited to finally be out with it all as he stepped towards her with an animated skip. “ _Come on_ … Ask me what _I know_ you’re _desperate_ to know.”

“ _What am I?_ ” Goddamn that grin was unnerving. He approached her, seemingly gliding across the deck. “Why are you here … talking to _me_?”

“Like I said already … what you **_both_** are … _Hoxmarch_.” _The Feared_. “But, honestly I prefer _Demiarch_. It rolls off the tongue better, don’t you think?”

She looked down to her own hands as she attempted to deny it. “But, I don’t look like Quintus.” That was quite an obvious statement, wasn’t it? “I’m not _strigoi_. I’m not–”

“Of course not, silly” The Morning Star chuckled. “He was born with _Fallen Blood_. Cursed from his very beginning. You weren’t. You were born **_Exalted_**.”

“Before … you said …” She hesitated as she remembered what he’d told her, hiding behind his _Ellie_ mask months before. “You said this was my grandfather’s fault?” She asked timidly.

“Well … technically great-great-great-great …” He rolled his eyes at the repetition. “Dot, dot, dot … grandfather. But … _yes_.”

“Who is he?” Her words were immediate and her desperation leaked into those words. Had she ever been so desperate to know something so badly in all her life? The thought of finally learning … of finally _understanding_ what it was that made her _so very different_ made her heart beat at an alarming rate.

“ _The Left Hand of God_. _The Second to ever breathe_. The Governor of Heaven.” He waited for her to name his brother, and when she did not, he leaned forward, touching her cheek and the spots upon it. “The Spotted One.” He paused and still she said nothing.

“The Great Thunder.” She remembered her dream and the thunder in the factory, as goosebumps crawled over her arms. As his finger twirled a curled lock of hair the wind had dislodged from the fancy configuration atop her head, he spoke the next name. “ _The Golden One._ ”

“Who?” She didn’t know. Damnit, why didn’t he just _say a real fucking name_. He was drawing this out on purpose and she could see that he was drunk on the power of providing her knowledge, as if he were holding a delicious apple out for her to nibble upon.

“He has carried so _many titles over the millenia,_ my big brother … _Zeus, Horus, Quetzalcoatl, Anu …_ **_Hinon_**.”

She remembered the last one as Hathų had spoken it _through_ her that night in the woods when she’d met the Onondaga. Hathų _knew_ , she knew _all_ of this … but Hathų had admitted to knowing, didn’t she? She had admitted that she wouldn’t _tell_ her any of it. 

> “ _The Archangel_ **_Michael_**.”

 

* * *

 

EL sat on the bed and watched impatiently as she tried to quickly pack her bag.

“I don’t know why we even had to come back here. You’ve _got_ money. Plenty of it. You can just _buy_ whatever you need now.” He dramatically fell back against the bed to show his annoyance.

“I needed to change at least.” She wanted out of that fucking dress and she’d need better shoes at the very least. _Fuck those shoes._ “Besides, I needed some things anyways. I might as well grab stuff while we’re here.” She opened the top drawer of her dresser and peaked within. Since she’d moved in with Gus, she had kept it in the drawer now. It had made him _uncomfortable_ when she set it on top of the dresser and so she had hidden it away. Carefully lifting it up, EL sat up on the bad as he eyed it.

“ _Ah ha_. That’s why we came back here. For _that_ thing.” He should have already _known_ this. If he was in her mind as he _claimed_ to be, he should have already known, right? Perhaps she had more privacy over her thoughts than he was being truthful about or perhaps it was just a continued ruse on his part. Regardless, she flashed him the dirtiest look that she could muster as she wrapped the sword handle with a shirt before tucking it safely into the center of the bag. He shrugged innocently. “ _Whatever_. Are we done here then?”

“Why are you in such a rush?” She questioned and he sighed dramatically again, not affording her any more words as he laid back down on his back.

Looking towards the bathroom, she meandered her way into it, grabbing her toiletries and rolling them all into the hand towel. Comb, toothbrush, toothpaste – she grabbed the tube and looked at it, realizing it was the _only_ tube in the bathroom and suddenly she thought of Gus. What would he think when he got back and she was just _gone?_ As she stared at it, EL spoke from behind.

“He’ll be fine. He has Aanya now, doesn’t he?” Setting the tube back down onto the counter and resolving herself to leaving him at least the paste, she looked up into the mirror and at EL who was now leaning up against the doorframe with his back, his arms crossed over his chest and a playful smile smeared across his chiseled and perfect face. “Are we done then?”

She almost turned, but as she tore her eyes from the archangel, she caught her own reflection in the mirror and she looked at herself carefully. She’d _never_ looked like her mother nor much like her father and she wondered … her eyes had _always_ been different than either.

“What does he look like?” She asked and he stirred from the door, walking up behind her.

“ _Like you._ ” He lifted his right hand towards her temple and she locked eyes with him through the mirror. “Would you like to see? I can show you.”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate and yet, he hesitated, his hand stopping inches before it touched her.

“Are you sure?” He warned. “You may not like what you see.”

“Why?” She squinted at him. “Just _show_ me.”

Rather than answer verbally, his middle finger touched the side of her temple and she saw just a glimpse of red electricity run across his finger as it touched her head and a painful image rocked her brain, pulling her away from the reality she had been in … and into another.

The scene was surreal. She was standing beside a bed in a dark room watching two figures. One was a large man, sitting sideways on the bed as he spoke to the other figure. The other, was a tiny girl and she knew _immediately_ who it was. Blonde and spotted, the little girl giggled at the man as she played with something in her hands. As she opened her hand, she saw it was a spider. A widow.

“What is _this?_ ” She barely managed to cough out loud through the pain it was inflicting, but she already _knew_ this was a memory … one of EL’s memories.

“This … This is the moment he took you away from _me_.” She heard EL’s voice somewhere distant behind her, but she still only saw this scene as it unfolded before her. “ _This was the moment he crippled you._ ”

The man shared her hair, her spots, _her eyes_. His face was square and strong. His lips were thin and pale. She … _holy fuck … she recognized him_. He was younger here … _yes_ , but she remembered him now. This was the man from the airport. The man who bought her beers and made her miss her flight that fateful day.

“No … I don’t remember _this_.” The pain was intense and she shuddered at the sensation of it all.

“No. You wouldn’t. He took _it_ from you as well.” She could _hear_ the anger laced in EL’s voice. Normally he was so good at masking his emotions, but right now, he was a boiling mess of rage. “But … I can give that back to you now. Do you want it back?”

“Yes.” She demanded and the electricity surged within her mind again as she saw flashes of red light dance across her vision.

Michael scooped the spider out of the little girl’s hand and set it on the window sill as a memory rocked loose within her mind. “ ** _Mrs. Weaver._** ” She said suddenly in perfect unison with the little girl:

 _“I was talking to_ **_Mrs. Weaver._** ”

It was _all_ coming back to her and she gasped again as the pain skyrocketed. The girl wasn’t speaking English, but it didn’t matter, she understood her all the same.

“Yes. Mrs. Weaver.” EL snickered from within her mind somewhere. “You called me _many_ things back then. That wasn’t one of my favorites.”

“Wait … _You?_ ” She coughed again as she felt herself falling forward but he caught her, standing her back up from somewhere distant. “ _You were the spider?_ ”

“You thought I was … but not exactly. You just assumed that’s where my voice was coming from.” _The voice … she remembered the voice now. It had always–_

The little girl’s sentence cut through her pending thoughts:

_“No. She can’t help it. It’s just her nature. That’s what makes her sad.”_

_Oh god._ She hadn’t remembered this. How could she have forgotten _this_? Now, as he flooded her with energy, she was remembering … it _all_. She remembered _the blonde man_ now. The many visits … his eyes … his hair … his … _ring_. And suddenly she remembered the _pain_ …

Out of thin air, EL stepped forward and stood beside her while they watched in silence and the little girl played with _Michael’s_ ring. Trying it on and spinning it in her fingers, she handed it back and he whispered words into it, causing it to glow with power and Dawn turned her back to the scene entirely, unable to watch the next part. Though she wasn’t looking for comfort, EL pulled her head into his chest as he hugged her gently.

“I’m sorry.” He offered as the sound of her burning flesh from behind caused her eyes to close tightly and she whispered. “You don’t need to watch _this_ , do you?”

“No, I’ve had enough. Please. I don’t wanna to see anymore.” She remembered it anyways, right? What was the point of staying longer … EL snapped his fingers and she was back in the bathroom, staring at him through the mirror again.

“I’m sorry he did _that_ to you.” His normally childish demeanor was changed and his face was full of animosity. “My brother has never been known for his _kindness_.” He said through a clenched jaw.

“Why?” She questioned, her face full of angry confusion. “Why would he do _that_ to me?”

“Your existence is particularly _damning_ for him.” He admitted, matter of factly. “You’re evidence.”

“Evidence of _what_?” She asked.

“ _Of his weakness_.”

She looked back at her reflection and everything shifted into place again. She remembered the look on the Master’s face when she had looked into _her eyes_. She remembered the look on Barqan’s face had been the exact same. _Fear_. She’d thought they were afraid of _her,_ but this was not the case. They were afraid of _him_. “This is what the _Master_ saw in my eyes, isn’t it?”

“You’re a shameful secret, Aurora. He looked down at her hair again and twirled a lock of it in his fingers again. “One that he would do _anything_ to hide from the others.”

“Stop calling me that.” She sneered at him through the mirror as she stared back at her face again. Her eyes trembled with anger as all she saw in her own face was _Michael_. Had she _ever_ been anything other than _his shameful_ secret, hidden in his great shadow?

“Aurora? _Why_? That’s your name, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve _always_ called you since you first took breath.” Taking a step back from her, he shrugged with a delighted grin. “Where do you think you got it from?”

 _No_. That wasn’t right. She’d named _herself_ Dawn … _in that factory_. The name had just _come_ to her, but it had been so sudden and it had felt _so right_. As the revelation set in, he smiled gloriously at her. “You didn’t name yourself that. I’m the one who gave you that name, Dawn. Don’t you get it yet?”

_Oh god …_

Aurora _was_ the goddess of the _Dawn_ and she did get it, even before he had explained it further, she had always _gotten it_. _He was the morning star_ after all and he purred with devilish glee “In greek, _Lucifer_ is quite literally: the bringer of _Dawn_.”

_Oh god …_

He backed up and leaned against the door frame again as he crossed his arms, looking at her with his head tilted to the right, resting the side of his temple against the same frame. “Are we done here now? Can we go?”

 _Everything_ … _everything had been …_ She was wrong about … _everything_. As she stared back into the mirror, she saw _Michael_ again and she furrowed her nose. _His face, his spots, his eyes … his …_ **_hair_**.

 _Fuck him. No. No more shadow. No. That motherfucker_.

She was enraged, so mad she could feel the tears welling up, but she forced them down. She didn’t have time to cry or feel sorry for herself right now. No, right now … she needed to focus, and staring at this visage in the mirror wasn’t really helping with that, was it? It made her feel powerless.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had grabbed Gus’ hair trimmer from its nestled position in the charger on the counter. When she flipped it to the ON position, she saw EL move behind her, pleading immediately. “ _Ah man_ … No. Don’t do that. You’re gonna look like a _cancer patient_.”

Ignored him entirely, she began to shave the fancy hairdo right off of her head completely, as close to the roots as she could get. With each swipe of the electric shaver, she smiled wider and wider as she cut the golden locks from her head, trying to free herself from the _Golden One._

She could do nothing about her face or spots or eyes, but she was going to be fucking damned to have _his_ hair. With each swipe, she grinned wider still as she saw herself becoming _different_ than him. As her head became more visible, she was reminded of her _dhampir_.

_No more shadow._

_Her … grandfather._

_That motherfucker._

“Well that’s just **_great_**. _You look terrible now_.”

Maybe, but regardless of how she _looked_ , she felt so much better. When she was done, she ran her hands over her _nearly_ bare head and nodded with agreement as EL shook his head from behind.

“O.K., well. That was fun, but …” He clapped his hands together once and rubbed them with anticipation. “What’s next? What should we do?”

“Next?” She turned around and smiled at him, grabbing her toiletries and remembering her dream from this morning and Ellie’s instructions to her. “Next … _we rock the boat._ ”

This pleased EL immensely and he smiled enough to show her his over-developed canines. Heading back into the room, she opened the bottom drawer and retrieved the folder the Hacker had given her. Setting it on the bed, she flipped it open to one of the last pages. Letters that Antonio had sent back to Dutch and she pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialing his number before she closed the folder and stuffed it back into the duffel.

The phone rang only twice before the man picked it up. It was early morning in Italy and he answered with an alert voice.

“Ciao?” He asked and Dawn smirked.

“Mr. Ferraro?” She asked.

“Yes. This is him.”

“This is …” She was nervous at mentioning the name, but she gulped and pushed through the anxiety. “Mrs. Sertorius.”

“Oh, it is finally good to–” She interrupted him quickly.

“I’ll be coming to Rome. I need you to set up travel for me.”

“Very good, ma’am! We are all very eager to meet you. When would you like to travel?”

“Now. Tonight.”

EL put his index finger to correct her. “Actually, we’ll need to make a pit stop first though …There’s something we’ll need to pick up first.”

She furrowed her brows at him while she put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking quickly “Where?”

He smiled. “ _Philadelphia_.”


	28. 4.2 - Knowledge

> _If heaven’s a prison_
> 
> _Then I am your prisoner_
> 
> _Yes, I am your prisoner_
> 
> _I messed up, oh_
> 
> _I know now_
> 
> _There’s no room for me to play now_
> 
> _Nowhere to dig my way out_

_**[Quintus was half agony and half hope.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persuasion_\(novel\))** _ He saw her _safe_ but _broken_. Though his heart soared with undefinable joy, he also witnessed her in unimaginable anguish, but still, he regretted _nothing_.

As he opened his eyes, he _knew_ he’d be back in that damned cell and as he pulled himself up, he smiled, deciding that he was actually filled with more _hope_ than _agony_. If he had seen her once, he could see her again, repeatedly. He was sure the _Governor_ would make it increasingly difficult, but he would not be deterred any longer.

He had been freed from any guilt that might have been holding him back, and as many had learned in the past, there was little one could do to sway him from his desires. As even his _Poet_ pointed out, few can prevent him from taking what he wants.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you again … well, at least not _so soon_.” The voice rang out from the cell across the way, chuckling at him and Quintus cracked his neck to the side, touching the incredibly tender spot on his head where Michael had struck him with the end of his staff. It was nearly the exact spot where _Dawn_ had downed him in that factory room and he found himself laughing lowly at the memory of it. _His feisty little warrior._

But … _Damnation._ His head _hurt_ badly and for a moment he was shocked at the intensity of the pain. This was the first time he’d actually _felt_ anything so strongly since he’d arrived. It hurt, but the sensation reminded him of what it had been like to be alive again.

“Actually, _scratch that …_ I’m completely shocked it took you _this long_. You’ve always been a _trouble maker_ , my hairless one.”

Hairless One? _Ugh_. A new nickname. She was full of them. Of all the ones she’d used so far, this was his least favorite to date. Upon seeing the flinch of his face as he gingerly palpated the spot, Ozyrel spoke again, chortling at his discomfort. “Smarts doesn’t it?”

Sighing heavily, he poked the spot carefully. _Damnation_. “How is it that it hurts? I thought there was no pain here?”

“You got smacked with _the staff_ , didn’t ya?” She was at the bars, grabbing them as she shoved her face through as far as she could, grinning madly at him.

“Indeed.” Quintus confirmed.

“Yeah. That thing can bruise even the spirit. It’s composed of _pure divinity, young one_. I’d steer clear of it, if at all possible.”

That was stating quite the obvious, wasn’t it? Yet it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. Even being in the presence of this _detestable thing_ again could not break the joy that overwhelmed him at the moment. He leaned back against the wall as he closed his eyes, picturing what he had _just_ seen as the smile crept back upon his mouth.

“What did you do to warrant such a strike from my younger brother anyways?” It was obvious she had been lonely in his absence and she was eager to _chit-chat_. Though Quintus _hated_ to converse so colloquially, he opened his eyes and as his anger towards the creature entirely faded, he decided to use the opportunity to gather some information instead. She had been more than willing to show off how much she knew before and he realized he should have been using that to his advantage this entire _damn_ time.

It had been utterly useless to harbour resentment towards a creature that was obviously _no more_. _The Master_ , he accepted it fully now, was _gone._ **_Destroyed_**. It no longer existed in _any form_ ; after thousands of years, he _had_ actually won and his smile widened further.

“ _I disobeyed him_.” The answer was curt and he followed it up with another question quickly so that she couldn’t pry further. He wished to steal the time for his own queries. “What is it made of? How did it hurt me?”

“What?” Cocking her head to the right like a bird, she squinted at him. “The staff?”

“Yes.” She _was_ indeed eager to talk and she grinned crazily when he stood and came to the bars right in front of her, giving her his full attention. In all the months they’d spent together, he had never been so open to communication and her eyes grew big at the gesture.

“What is it?” He wished to know its purpose and perhaps _then_ understand why his _Poet_ had felt the subconscious need to recreate it, and why _he_ , as he realized it now, had also felt the need to take it from that room when he had taken _her_. He remembered thinking about how _precious_ it was when he had taped it to his back.

As Ozryel answered, he looked into the cell around and behind her, eyeing a number of _new_ things that were in it. She had a chair and a desk now, as well as dozens of books, all strewn everywhere, as well as various other trinkets.

“Originally, it was a gift from _Our Creator_.” Ozryel said with hints of animosity. “Well … _gifts_. All four of us received a _gift_. It’s different than how I remember it though. It has been changed … _merged_. Combined, if you will. It’s no longer the two things that it once was.” God, she was long-winded often and instead of asking her to explain, he just stared at her with a raised eyebrow, which provoked a simple and innocent shrug from her before she continued.

“You see … It used to be both _The Staff of the Traveller_ and _The Horn of the Messenger_. But now they have been made into one, it seems.”

This made perfect sense to Quintus. He knew _much_ about history as well as religion and Raphael _was_ usually depicted carrying a staff and Gabriel _was_ attributed as the trumpeter, was he not? He nodded in acceptance of the information, qualifying it more simply to her. “Raphael’s staff and Gabriel’s horn?”

“Yes!” She smirked. “Very good, Quintus!” He shook the feeling of accomplishment that her praised had welled within him. No. He didn’t like _appreciating_ her pride and he turned his face into a serious glare. “Very good.”

“But … If they were for Raphael and Gabriel … _as gifts_ … then why does _Michael_ wield them … _it_ … now?”

He could tell the question brought her significant unease and when she didn’t answer right away, he _knew_ that she was mulling over exactly _what_ or perhaps _how much_ she should tell him. _There was power in whatever the answer to this question was_ and he grinned at her unintentional disclosure.

“Very well … “ He began to turn and move to sit back on his old, faithful bench as he waved a dismissive hand. “Nevermind then. I would prefer you to keep _your game of secret_ to _yourself_. I do not _mind_ waiting in silence.”

“Wait!” She called out as she reached through the bar and he grinned to himself as his back was still to her. Turning to face her again, the smirk vanished from his face. He replaced it with a distinctly serious expression as to not give away his … _manipulation_. “I … it’s …” He raised his brow and she giggled slightly, unable to mask her _hunger_ for his attention. “It’s a matter of _power_ … to retain _control_.”

“Control?” He asked as he stepped back to the bars, putting his hands through them and resting his elbows on a cross section of perfect metal. “Does he not control _everything_ anyways?”

“Well … Yes _and_ no. The _Four_ are supposed to work as checks and balances on some level. Each having their own _dominion_ of power.” She hesitated again and he sighed, giving the slightest movement that he would retreat again causing her to pout significantly. “You are going to get me in trouble, Quintus. Or rather, you are going to get us _both_ in trouble.”

He scoffed playfully, his ability to manipulate in full swing as he looked around at the cell, waving at the bars dramatically as he grinned slightly. “I am not sure if there _can_ be more _trouble_ than we are _both_ already in, no?”

“My dear boy …” She sighed. “There exist punishments _far greater_ than just being _locked_ in these cells.” She waved her own hand around at all of her trinkets and new books. “I’m getting along just fine. See?” He was sure she wasn’t as she was obviously starved for interaction.

“I only seek clarification. I was told you … _were_ … a great proponent of _knowledge_.” Ozryel was always _the smartest_. “Ozryel … _the smartest of the–_ ” He began an attempt to fan the flames of her ego but she interrupted quickly.

“Remember where you are now, pale one.” Always with the nicknames and he bit back the smallest of snickers at her annoying habit. “Knowledge is _not_ something given _here_ without a cost. And it is normally a heavy price to pay. Do not forget the _past_ , Invictus. Never forget the beginning.”

“Very well.” He sighed, eyeing her carefully. He might be able to back into the subject from another angle and she watched him pondering his next words. They were clearly playing each other at this point. Clever angel. “So … Raphael and Gabriel were not _the only ones_ to receive … _gifts?_ ”

“No. Not at all. All of the first were given gifts.” She loosened up and gave something away that she had not intended. Before, she had said _four_ , but now she said _all of the first_. Of this batch, Quintus _knew_ there were _five_. “As the Right Hand, I was given the Celestial Blade. A weapon so divine and terrifying that it can rend souls apart.” This was the blade he’d seen at Michael’s side. Watching her carefully, he waited patiently as she continued. “Michael, as the Left Hand, was given the Binding Ring.”

“Binding?” He remembered the conversation he had with the professor. A conversation about the symbols of power detailed in the _Lumen_. A conversation regarding how one _binds_ an angel and he remembered his _Poet’s_ wrist. “What exactly would he need to **_bind_**?” Quintus fished and Ozryel squinted at him as she smiled and shook her head at his poor attempt to be innocent.

“You can _bind_ lots of things, dear boy. Mostly though … it is used for _punishment_.”

“Punishment of … whom?” He prodded. “Angels?”

“Quite right. Yes. But … I believe you already know this, don’t you?” She winked at him slowly. She pushed into his mind now, desiring ultimate secrecy for her next statement.

“Oh please. You’ve seen a _bind_ before, youngling. You’ve actually _removed_ one, haven’t you?”

 _Youngling_. Ugh. It was still better than the earlier name and he shrugged. When it seemed like she was done, he carried the conversation forward. “And … what about the _fifth gift_?”

“Fifth?” Feigning ignorance, in _this_ moment Quintus realized just how good she was at lying. If he had not already learned of the _five_ from the _Lumen_ , he might have actually believed her. _Sneaky._

“You said _each of The First_ , and of that batch, there were _Five_.”

“Oh yes.” She hummed with a fake smile. “There _were Five_ , were there not?” She was both pleased with him _and_ annoyed at the same time. “Sorry. We don’t like talking about _The Fifth_ much.”

“Lucifer, you mean?” He asked and her delightful face fell to an expressive frown.

“Do not utter his name here, unconquerable.” She warned carefully and slowly and _very_ deliberately.

“Is it yet _another_ rule by which I must abide?” He asked playfully but when her demeanour remained intense.

“The past shall _not_ repeat itself. _Ever_. Because of this fact, there are ears everywhere. Do not let the peace of this place fool you, my child. To speak of _that_ past is a dangerous thing, especially for the _divine_.”

There were few things that had caused such a reaction out of Ozryel. As Quintus pawed through his memories, he could actually think of _nothing_ that they had discussed which had actually caused _this_ type of reaction. He would heed her warning for now and he filed the trigger away for use later before circling back to his previous question. “So … The fifth gift?”

“Earth.” The answer was short and almost curt, as if that disclosure had no meaning.

“Earth was a gift?” Quintus breathed. “And it belonged to … _him_?”

“Indeed. It was. A terrible gift if you ask me, but _The Oh So Benevolent Creator_ hadn’t planned on a _fifth_ to be born.” Ozryel confessed candidly. “ _The little one_ was a mistake, you see.” Her eyes flashed down to her palms as she fiddled with her hands and he watched as he tried to decipher this mood. It wasn’t sadness. _No_ … It was something else entirely.

“You **_fear_** him, don’t you?” He realized suddenly as the words escaped his mouth and Ozryel looked slightly shocked for a moment.

“Do not be absurd, hairless one. Remember … _I fear no one_.” She scoffed as she used his most hated nickname again, but even she wasn’t buying the fake confidence she attempted to puff herself up with. “Anyhoo …”

Another _button_ and he smiled. This conversation was turning out to be fairly useful, he felt. She was giving him far more than she had when they were locked up earlier and he realized that wasn’t due to _her_ being different though, it was him. He was back in control of himself in nearly every way that mattered. No longer unsure of where he was or what was going on, he could now settle back into his familiar state of planning and preparing.

“And the staff?” He asked next, pushing along slowly.

“What about it?”

“The blade _destroys_. The ring _binds_. The staff …” He trailed off to allow her to finish the sentence and she bit immediately.

“ _Travels_.” She said quickly as she smiled to him, seeing his eyes widen. “And no, you cannot use it to return to Earth. It requires an incredible amount of divinity to power and you are not that … hmmm … ” Looking him up and down, she giggled. “Well equipped.”

If that was meant as an insult, he didn’t understand the slight enough to even care. He wanted information now. “The horn …”

“The horn _commands_.” She offered simply.

“Commands what exactly?” He asked. “Angels?”

“Basically, but not _that_ specifically. Not on an individual level. It commands the army of Heaven, dear boy.” She pressed her face against the bars as she smiled. “And you have _never_ seen an army like this, Quintus. It is vast and powerful … _completely unstoppable_. Savage to a degree that would even _shock you_.”

It was an odd concept to wrap his head around and he quickly asked for clarification. “Why?”

“Why what?” She furrowed her brow.

“Why does Heaven have need for an army as you’ve described?” He cocked his head to the right inquisitively. “Who do they fight? Have they ever fought?”

“That’s a good question, cursed one.” Pursing her lips together, she laughed at the query. “They have most definitely fought … but mostly just _themselves_.”

“Mostly? That implies there exists _other_ threats. Outside of Heaven, perhaps?” He pushed carefully prodding the subject.

“No, not anymore. Our _Supreme Flawless Creator_ has taken care of _that_.” Snide animosity leaked into her words and he could see the anger on her face for a moment before she tried to hide it with a weak and fake smile.

“ _You hate him_ , don’t you.” He conjectured and when her smile faded away as her brows furrowed, he saw _hurt_ behind those red eyes. “You hate him for what he did to you …”

“ _The Creator_ did nothing _to me_.” She stated plainly, pulling her arms from the bars and crossing them against her chest.

“Then … for allowing it to happen?” Yes. He could see the effect these words had on her and she flicked her chin out as she swallowed deeply.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? _The Creator_ is gone … _again_. Off to muck with something, leaving us all to suffer in it’s neglectful wake. Perhaps we will be so lucky that it does not return this time at all.” The pain was incredible and for the first time since he’d met her, he could see the _human_ side of her leaking through as she turned from the bars, making her way to take a seat at her new comfortable looking chair. As she slid down into it, she turned to face him again, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“I did _everything_ it asked. Without question. Michael … _Michael questioned all the damn time_. He argued and defied and … but I did as I was told. The good little soldier. The good _Right Hand_.” She shook her head as she wiped at her nose and the moisture that was forming within it as he saw the tears starting. “And _I_ was chosen to suffer. I was _felled_ … I was forsaken. I should have realized that God was _Left Handed_.”

“I’ve found that _fathers_ can be as infuriating to their sons as _the reverse_.” He wasn’t sure _why_ he was offering any consoling words to her, but as she looked up, he could clearly see the tears that had started to well in her eyes and he _needed_ to get her back on track with releasing information. “Sometimes that disappointment is justified, but _occasionally_ … “ He paused as she watched her face lighten. “What you have _chosen_ to assume about them turns out to be quite wrong.”

A flicker of hope danced across her equally pale face with his comforting words and she stood quickly, wiping her cheeks with a passive smile. Good, now they could continue. “And … The Earth _creates_.”

“ _Creates_? Creates what exactly?”

“Perhaps _creates_ is a bad word. How about _harvests_?” Quintus remembered Hathų’s words earlier that day about how the garden was made to _cultivate souls_ and he squinted at Oz.

“Harvest _what_ from _where_?”

“It pulls power from the well of souls and presents them to us for consumption.” Her words were carefully planned and she stared at him with a raise eyebrow, knowing she would pique his interest.

“Consumption?” He gulped at the thought of that word. Consuming souls? What that what she had intended to say? He pushed with great concern. “What do you mean? You … Heaven … _consumes_ the souls?”

“Hmmm … consume is a poor word choice as well. My apologies. How about _power_. Perhaps _charge_?”

Quintus squinted with scrutiny rich in his eyes. “Are you are implying that Heaven is _powered_ by the souls that reside here?”

“Or perhaps you are just _inferring_ that from my words, cursed one.” She shrugged, obviously pleased with her non-answer and without answering his question fully, she asked her own. “Tell me … how did you come to learn of _The Five_?”

“ _The Lumen_ taught us _many_ things.” He confessed simply.

“Oh did it now?” Ozryel purred with intrigue. “Did you unlock its hidden secrets, _clever boy_?”

“The Professor did more so than I in that regard.” He deflected the compliment and used the question to ask something that he’d been curious about for months now. “But tell me … why did the _Master_ even desire it? We found nothing that would have been of use for him hidden in its pages. Did he simply wish _us_ not to possess it?”

Ozryel raised her eyebrow and looked confused for a moment, before grinning madly, as she always did. “If you read it, then _surely_ that is obvious? It is how _The Seventh_ found the place that I was _felled_ and the ritual to restore the lost divinity.” Quintus didn’t remember anything like that in the _Lumen_ and though his face gave away _nothing_ , his silence belied too much to her. “Ah … _then you did_ **_not_** _unlock_ **_all_** _of its hidden secrets after all,_ dangerous one.”

This was the nickname he liked the most so far, and he was picking up on her own manipulation techniques in the use of her names to him. Quintus hated riddles, so he asked very plainly. “What other secrets were there? What is it we missed?” Although, before she could answer, a familiar voice spoke from the side, just a ways down the hallway.

“ ** _Quintus?_** ” It was the calm voice of the Traveller, but there was a hint of concern laced in it and as both prisoners turned to face him. Quintus spied the book he carried in his right hand and he understood suddenly where Ozryel was getting all of the _things_ in her cell. _“What are you doing back here?”_

“Getting into trouble, it seems.” Ozryel laughed out loud as Raphael swiftly approached Quintus’ cell, staring at his bruised forehead through the bars.

“Did Michael … _strike you_?” Raphael point at his temple and his tone was ripe with annoyance. “What did you do to warrant such _childish_ behavior from my brother?” He pushed and Quintus smiled, shrugging innocently, still quite proud of himself over his defiance.

“I broke the rules.” Quintus said, his smile only growing larger as Raphael grinned slightly at Quintus’ uncharacteristically positive mood.

“And which rule is this?”

“I _visited_ Earth.”

If Raphael had been facing Ozryel, then he would have seen her smile fade away as she stared at Quintus while her mouth fell agape. Shaking her head slightly as she rushed into his mind.

“Wait … You did _what_? Oh no, stupid boy. Tell me you didn’t visit _her–_ ”

“There is _no such rule._ That is _preposterous_. And for _that_ he _struck_ you and put her in here?” Raphael sighed heavily, waving his hand at the bar as a blue spark arced across his cheek and hand. The bars vanished and Quintus found himself unsure if he should actually leave the cell or not. _Michael_ was the one who placed him here, was it he not? Did Raphael really have the authority to just release him like this?

“Don’t worry, Quintus. I’ll speak with Michael. This is unacceptable. You still have loved ones on Earth and I have seen how much you _long_ for them. You should be allowed to visit as much as you wish.” Raphael waved a hand down the hallway and smiled warmly at him. “You are free to go.”

He hesitated. “I was told Celestial Beings aren’t allowed to visit.” Quintus explained, still standing in the cell and Raphael shook his head.

“I will have words with him. There has never been a special case like you before. I know you long for those you left behind and there is no reason to torment you with their absence.” He waved his arm for Quintus to leave the cell again and the dhampir did so slowly, unsure if he _really_ wanted to provoke _The Governor_ further. Besides, the conversation with Ozryel was actually getting somewhere interesting …

“Quintus, it is important that _you do not visit her again_. **_Do not._** Michael is not just a mean fool and his rule wasn’t for _your punishment_ but rather for _her protection_.”

“Thank you.” Quintus said as he bowed his head to the violet-eyed archangel. As he turned to take his leave, he smirked to Ozryel. “Until next time, _crazy one_.” He gave _her_ a nickname and she smirked at it. As he walked down the hallway, he felt her intrude into his mind one last time, even while she spoke to Raphael concurrently.

“My dear boy, **_all_** visits are logged and catalogued, and _you … you are being watched._ Don’t you understand … you bring her unwanted attention. _No one can_ **_see_** _her._ ”

Quintus’ mood crumbled into concern as he absorbed Ozryel’s words and he caught one last sentence from Raphael as he rounded the corner to leave the detention center.

“I am unsure why Michael is showing him _so much_ animosity. _I_ **_will_** _have words with our brother._ ” It was rare to hear such frustration in the mocha-skinned man’s voice.

_Perhaps he regretted his actions after all …_

* * *

  

>   _And I never meant to cause you trouble_
> 
> _And and I never meant to do you wrong_
> 
> _And ah well if I ever caused you trouble_
> 
> _Oh no I never meant to do you harm_

Hathų sat _very_ patiently at her table, spinning the cup of warm liquid in her hands as she breathed deeply. She _knew_ he’d come eventually and now she just had to wait. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours. She patted the head of the dog that also waited patiently next to her and she sighed heavily when the beast got up and ran to the door moments before the handle turned and Michael entered, his face both tired and sad.

There were no words spoken as he walked over and took his seat, petting the large animal on the head and smiling at it. This was only the second time he had been _home_ since she told him to leave. The last being a day earlier when he came to request her to _direct_ Quintus to his past love.

When neither spoke, the dog got up and approached the door, scratching at it to be released and Michael’s words to it were harsh. “No, Thunder! Come!”

Hathų sighed. “He does not like being locked in here.”

“He has to remain here until _eyes_ have unfocused on the ripples that were caused.” Michael said calmly. The dog had always hated to be confined, but even the minds of spirit of animals were not immune to the investigative crawling of the _Traveler_ , and _this_ animal knew secrets that needed to be hidden well.

“Does Raphael still search for answers?” She questioned. There had been months of quiet, but the purple-eyed angel was still curious. He take an interest in Quintus unlike Michael had ever seen from his little brother.

“Very much so.” Michael sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. “It is unlike him to be so … _aggressive_ about things. I thought he would have given up by now.”

“I’m sorry about Quintus, I didn’t know that he would–” She started to apologize and he shook his head, placing his hand over his face and touching his scar while he interrupted her.

“It’s not your fault. That was my idea.”

“I told you it was a _bad idea_.” She said plainly, reminding him of their previous argument over the plan. “The heart cannot be controlled in such a way …”

“Yes. I know you did. I should have listened. I just thought …” He trailed off as he stared at the rune covered walls of their sanctuary. They burned with golden light only in _his_ presence, enabling them to live in privacy.

“You thought you _knew_ best.” She stated and took a drink of her angelica infusion. The smell of it so close to her nose made her miss Michael deeply, even though he now sat mere feet from her.

“No … It wasn’t that. I thought I _knew_ him, Hathų. I was _sure_ I did.” His hand fell to the table again as he tapped it with his thumb while he pondered what had happened. “I thought there was _nothing_ in the world that he cared about more …”

“I am not sure why that is so. You have complained so often. He has always continued to surprise you … _constantly._ ”

“No. It’s not _that_. It’s not that I _underestimated_ **_him_** … I overestimated _his love_ … for _her_ … for **_his wife_**.” Michael’s sigh was profound and he shook his head at the confusion of it all. “He pined for _her_ for nearly two thousand years. I watched him do it. She was _always_ his reason, she was …”

“No.” She reached out and grabbed his tapping hand, halting the nervous action. For the first time in months, she touched him and he stared at her dark hand as it stroked the top of his spotted one. “You _underestimated_ his love for _her … for our child_. Do you not understand it yet?”

He looked up into her and his face contorted with frustration. “Understand _what_ exactly?” He was desperate to know, desperate to comprehend how this might be fixed. How he might be able to stop this … _determination_.

“You of _all_ people should understand their pain.” She squeezed his hand in her soft grip. “You are one of the only beings who truly can.”

“I don’t understand your meaning, Hathų.” He was so tired of the worry that Quintus being here had inflicted on them and their relationship. “Please … Just be straight.”

“I saw it in his eyes when we were speaking today, just as I have seen it in _your eyes_ so very many times.” She smiled. “Don’t you see?” She paused slightly. “They are both _Hayyoth_ , Michael. It is _The Ache_.” Hayyoth were born in pairs and _the Ache_ to which she referred was the pain that Michael felt when he had lost his _Other_. When he had lost Ozryel.

“No.” He dismissed her accusation sharply. “They were both _born alone_. They have no _Ache_. They have no _Other–_ ”

“My love.” Her soft grip turned firm. “You and your brothers already know that being born _alone_ doesn’t prevent _that pain, does it_?” There had been one other who had felt it and his pain had nearly destroyed all of creation.

“Then there is _nothing_ I can do to sway him.” The sigh was even more dramatic than the last one as he placed his hand back up to his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger before his fingers found their meandering way to his scar again and he thought of Ozryel. “He will cause _all of our_ downfalls.”

“We should tell him _the truth_ then.” She had said this to him yesterday and he denied her yet again.

“No. I know that _bast–_ ” He halted the insult as he remembered what Raphael had revealed about the dhampir during the case. “I know that _son of a bit–_ ” He halted again as he remembered Honoria. He quite liked _Honoria_. “I know that _little shit_. I don’t want him to have _any leverage_ over me … _or you_.” He looked at her longingly now as he flipped his hand over and gripped hers tightly. “I will not put _our fate_ … or the fate of our _entire line_ at risk so foolishly.”

“Then what will you do?” She questioned and he pulled his hand back, removing a small crystal from his pocket and setting it on the table as he stared at it.

“What is that?” She furrowed her nose and he smiled.

“It is the record of his visit.” Michael tapped it with his index finger before picking it up. He considered for a moment before squeezing it tightly in his grip as golden lightning sparked into it and the crystal turned to ash in his hand. He opened his palm and blew it away into the air.

“But …” She looked shocked at first … “Won’t someone notice it is missing?”

“Perhaps. But missing is still better than them _knowing_.” He was mostly worried about Raphael being _overly curious_ but he shrugged as he looked at her. “But, I cannot worry about both brothers at the same time and he’s not the one I need to appease right now.”

“Gabriel?” She questioned. She had been out of the loop for too long and she regretted their fight more than ever.

“Yes.” He frowned significantly. “He wishes to find the child who sparked. I will have to …” It was hard for him to even utter the words that escaped next. Disgust washed over him as he considered it the only option. “I will have to provide him with a nephilim to … _destroy_.”

Hathų shook her head at even the consideration of it. “Michael, no. A child? No. _No._ ”

“It is either _our child_ or another. What would you prefer?”

Both sat in silence as the gravity of the situation settled in and the dog returned from the door, nudging the archangel on the leg to provoke a gentle petting. He smiled as he stroked the animal’s head with his free hand while he gripped his wife’s hand even tighter.

“I should go now.” But he hesitated and she returned the firmness of the grasp, not letting him go.

“No. Please, don’t go again.” She was so relieved in this moment. “ _Stay._ I am sorry.”

**_They had missed each other so very much._ **


	29. Commission Art - The Brothers - Michael and Ozryel

[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/159833594618)

> [Ozyrel](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBGeQXbtRnNL%2F%3Ftaken-by%3Dcarloseqo&t=YTllZGNiMTVkZDRkYmUwNWIyOTQ0YTA0YTQ2ZmNkNjUxNTdkNmI4MCxIQmQyZzNJYg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159833594618%2Fozyrel-was-the-first-to-spark-as-he-opened-his&m=1) was the first to **spark** as he opened his eyes fully as the Great Spirit picked him up in its right hand and brought him to its lap.  It pulled him snugly to its bosom, pleased and amazed with its wondrous creation. Thus, he became **The Right Hand**.  His eyes burned a deep red, his feathers clear, nearly translucent, and his skin a pure white, marbelesque and almost striped as it showed the veins that lurked just under his skin.
> 
> [Michael](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBF3wI0YxnKr%2F%3Ftaken-by%3Dcarloseqo&t=NWU4YmU4NTYyNTk0NTlkYjkxYjVlMTNlZGExNzFjZGI5ZThhOWYxZSxIQmQyZzNJYg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159833594618%2Fozyrel-was-the-first-to-spark-as-he-opened-his&m=1) was next.  The Great Spirit picked him up in its left hand, bringing him next to his older brother.  Thus, he became **The Left Hand**.  His eyes burned with a deep green, his feathers a metallic gold, and his skin beautifully spotted.
> 
> After they had grown too big to sit, they stood on either side of the Great Spirit, always together, working in unison and clarity, maintaining each other’s strengths and defeating their weaknesses.  If one would falter, the other would bolster.  If one would stumble, the other would reinforce.  If one would doubt, the other would ensure.
> 
> There were never two Angels as close as these.  Standing as one, they ruled over the Kingdom together.  None would speak to the Great Spirit directly, they were its conduit to all and no decision would ever be made by just one, maintaining a balance to prevent corruption.
> 
> [– A Savage Inconvenience, Interlude 10 - The Freedom to Fall](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=ZTFkYTg0YTM5YzIxNDMzODRkYjczMjEwNmRiMTEwMTZhZGZjNzliMyxIQmQyZzNJYg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159833594618%2Fozyrel-was-the-first-to-spark-as-he-opened-his&m=1)

##  _**Adorable commission by[@lunie-junk](https://lunie-junk.tumblr.com/)** _


	30. 4.3 - Knowledge

> _Now and then I think of when we were together_
> 
> _Like when you said you felt so happy you could die_
> 
> _Told myself that you were right for me_
> 
> _But felt so lonely in your company_
> 
> _But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember_

Goddamn, he was an _asshole_ , but she should have expected that, right? History _knew_ him as such. Even now as she ran as fast as she thought she could, trailing her prey by less than a block at full sprint, he was still shouting at her to _do better_.

“MOVE YOUR ASS, AURORA! Is this seriously what you call running?!?”

Quintus had trained with _infinite_ patience and understanding. If she failed to learn something right, he would show her and explain it in as many ways as necessary for her to grasp it. Explaining it from her point of view, his point of view, the _assailant’s_ point of view. She _missed_ that, but on some level, she understood that EL was a different _beast_ altogether.

“I AM!” She bit back as her feet thundered across the wet ground. Her boots hitting large puddles of resting water on the broken pavement and sending water flying through his corporeal apparition each time it appeared before her again.

No. EL wasn’t a _teacher_. He didn’t _teach_ her to be better. He _demanded_ it. He _expected_ it. In all honesty, she knew that, deep down inside, he was likely full of _infinitely more_ patience than Quintus was even possible of, but he also seemed to know her better. He didn’t accept complaints about weakness or mutterings of doubt and she was learning _much_ faster with him than she had with her dhampir.

He knew that she was smart and quite capable of learning, picking up anything she needed at a drop of a hat, but he _also_ knew that she was more defiant than anyone. Time was of the essence, especially at this moment, and all he had to do was tell her she _couldn’t_ do something to provoke her into proving him wrong. He’d been watching her for a long time, and he _never_ underestimated her. On some level, it was nice that someone _finally understood_ that she had no upper limits, but on another level, _he was a fucking asshole._

“Pick it up, **_halfling_**!!! This is pathetic! He’s NOT faster than _we_ are!” He screamed at her as he stood on the sidewalk ten feet ahead of her _again._ As she passed him in her run, she glared with the most hateful look she could muster. And as soon as he was out of her view, she would see him fifty feet ahead again, standing and shouting, seeming to teleport ahead of her.

“If you lose him, it’ll be even harder to find him next time!” As she flew passed him he was ahead of her _again_ , standing on the sidewalk, as he pointed down an alley. “He’s seen you now! He’ll never stop running!”

She _knew_ this already. They’d been on his slippery trail for weeks now. **_Pit stop_** _in Philadelphia_ , her ass. As she attempted to turn into the alley, she was unprepared for the momentum of the shift in direction from her current inhuman speed and coupled with the water on the ground, she slid as her foot slid out from under her. Her movement forward didn’t stop and she was now sliding across the pavement on her thigh as if she were coming into home plate. As she hit the dumpster, she sent it flying across the alley and into the building on the other side.

 _Fuck my life._ She breathed out deeply as she tried to pull herself back up to her shaky feet.

“OH MY **_GOD_**.” EL shook his head as he brought his hand to his forehead, expressing great disappointment. “What the fuck was that?! That was ridiculous! Don’t tell me that I need to teach you how to _run_ too?”

_Oh fuck my life._

She was on her feet again and he was still berating her. “Are you done yet? Are you giving up already?” He asked and as she stared back at him, she spat at his annoyance.

“You know what?” Goddamn, she hit the dumpster with her shoulder and it hurt just a bit now. As she rubbed it for a moment, she sneered at him. “ _Fuck you._ You can just _go to hell_.”

“ _Oh, that’s a cute one._ ” He laughed loudly at her insult and she cracked her neck as she rolled her shoulder in a clockwise fashion, attempting to rid it of the throbbing pain. “I’m kinda already there, aren’t I?”

She might have retorted, but the sound of someone scurrying up the fire escape above them caught both of their attentions and as she looked up, their prey stopped their scrambling for just an instant, allowing their eyes to meet _again_ and the _Shiny Man’s_ face swam with terror.

 _I’m coming for you,_ **_motherfucker_**. She mused to herself as she stared up and a glorious but wicked grin graced her overly spotted face. As she smiled, his eyes widened further with fear and he started his rushed climb again.

“Come on.” He was clicking his fingers at her. “ _Move your ass, Aurora._ ” EL motivated yet again and she complied without further hesitation, jumping higher than she ever had before,she grabbed the bottom of the ladder and started her ascension to her terrified prey.

As she climbed, she quietly rejoiced at the possibility of finally leaving this wretched, dying city and getting to Rome. EL had claimed _a pit stop_ , but once they were on the private jet that Ferraro had sent for her, he disclosed to her what, _or rather who_ , they were going for …

 

* * *

  

> _Two Weeks Earlier_
> 
> _A private airstrip on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico_

She had pulled her hood conspicuously over her head and she kept her face down as they approached the small plane. Ferraro might be an _insufferable bastard_ , but damn that man was punctual. The plane was already waiting for her by the time she’d made her way to the private airstrip. It seemed that jetting Quintus around all of these years meant he was quite familiar with making _discrete_ travel arrangements.

She didn’t speak very much, only confirming her name, as she walked up the small staircase into the belly of the fancy but small jet. As she sat, a ridiculously attractive middle-aged stewardess asked her if she needed anything before take off and she shook her head. When the woman requested her coat, Dawn complied begrudgingly and the tall woman gasped slightly when she saw her newly cut hair, or the lack thereof.

A part of Dawn was embarrassed by her reaction, but the remaining part of her enjoyed it. She wasn’t overly _pretty_ and at this point in time, she was so _fucking tired_ pretending that she was, or pretending that she _had_ to be. At least now, she didn’t even have to worry about the facade of _it_.

“Yeah … you shouldn’t have done that.” EL shook his head from the seat across from her and she smiled, waiting until the woman was in the next compartment before speaking candidly with him.

“Whatever. I really don’t care. What does it even matter?” She felt free of so many things right now. She was … _enlightened_.

“It’ll matter. Trust me.” He said as he sighed. “I had to learn a long time ago, you catch more bees with _honey_ than _vinegar_.”

Squinting at him, she giggled slightly. “I think you mean _flies_.”

“Well … _flies too_.” He leaned forward and gave her a little wink. “But … I know how much you like _bees_.” A chill ran down her spine as she understood his reference carried an underlying meaning. He was using it as a way to let her know how well _he assumed_ he knew her. She, in fact, had _always_ loved bees, even when she was a child.

Brushing off his words, she buckled her seatbelt as she heard the engines begin their low whining. “So … What’s in _Philadelphia_?” She had asked earlier, but he’d put off the explanation and now she wanted an answer.

“Something that you _lost_ a while ago.” He looked out the window and she could read the excitement on his elegant face. “Something we’ll _need_ now.” She waited for him to explain further, but his expression turned serious as he stared down to the ground, cocking his head to the right, listening intently and becoming immediately distracted by something external to her perceptions.

“What is it?” She asked as she could hear _nothing_ out of the ordinary, but the stewardess was back.

“What is what, ma’am?” She asked with a thick European accent of some kind and Dawn apologized profusely, embarrassed about having been caught talking to herself again.

“Oh no, sorry sorry. I was just thinking out loud.” She smiled fakely and the woman nodded, “Will you be dining on your flight today?” The woman offered her a menu to look over and Dawn accepted it, mulling over her choices.

Other than the bottles of wine, she hadn’t really eaten _anything_ except part of the dinner that Gus had convinced her to consume. She wasn’t hungry, per usual now, but it was probably smart to _eat something_. Beginning to point at the pasta option, EL chuckled, interrupting her quickly.

“Are you even hungry?” He asked. “You really need to _stop_ eating so much. Or at all.” He waved at her pudgy little midsection as he shook his head in disappointment. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Dawn stared at him for a moment in confused silence as she wished to ask him, but not in front of the overly perfect, slender woman. Instead, she dismissed her politely. “Actually, can I look it over a minute first?”

“Very good, ma’am.” The woman left again as she felt the plane begin to move, driving its way across the tarmac to begin the flight.

“What do you mean?” She asked immediately. “What haven’t I _figured out yet_?”

“You don’t need to eat as much anymore.” He said in a matter of factly voice. “I’m not sure if you even need to eat _at all anymore_ , but definitely not everyday. That’s why you keep getting … ummm … _bigger_.” He smiled pleasantly at the word. “Just stop. Your body doesn’t know what to do with all the calories, so it’s just storing them.”

Dawn frowned massively at the revelation. She didn’t have to _eat_ as much anymore? Wait, what _the fuck_? Remembering the last eight months and how she’d had to force herself to eat _and_ drink, it actually made sense. She looked down at her rolls and squinted, poking her stomach. “Well … _shit_. But … _why not?_ How can I function without _food_?”

“Food is just energy and now … you’re getting most of that from _him_.” EL’s face was so smug. “You share his _divinity_ now.”

 _Him. Her grandfather._ “Michael?” She queried and he nodded. “But, Quintus had to … _eat_ …”

Shrugging, he crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knee. “Like I said … I don’t know if you need to or not, or how often. There hasn’t been anything like _you_ before, Aurora. I just know it’s been waaaaaay too often.” His eyes floated down to her midsection again and she crossed her arms over it, feeling increasingly embarrassed. “I suggest not eating until you actually _feel_ hungry.” She watched him as he stared down to the ground _again_ and cocked his head to the left this time, listening intently at nothing.

“I apologize, but I need to go for a while.” Did he _ever_ apologize? For _anything?_ She raised a brow at him and he looked uncomfortable for a moment, staring off at a random spot on the ground. Finally, he looked up and his face was happy again. “It’s a short flight. Get some rest. We’ll have to do quite a bit once we land.”

“Where are you going?” She queried, half worried and half relieved that she would actually get some time to herself.

“I’m needed back …” He paused, as uttering the next word seemed to annoy him. “ _Home_.”

“Home?” She gulped as she thought about what _that_ meant, and she stuttered as she qualified further. “You mean … _Hell_?”

He only smiled at the question and repeated his previous statement . “Get some rest.” He stood and pointed to the direction that the stewardess had disappeared into. “And, at least pretend to be _rich_. Stop being _so nice_ to _the help_. They’ll think they can take advantage of you.”

“But … “ Squinting up to him, she smirked with burning defiance. “I thought you said honey _over_ vinegar.”

His glare was meant to convey frustration, but she could tell he was obviously more amused than annoyed because he let out a tiny chuckle before he was suddenly gone.

Staring down at the menu, she sighed heavily to herself. _She didn’t need to eat_. What sucked about that was that she actually used to _really like eating_.

_Damnit._

* * *

As Lucifer stepped back from Earth, opening his eyes and breathing out deeply from his cross-legged seated position on the ground. As he looked up, he found [Shaitan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satan) standing, waiting for his return with folded arms. The fallen Djinn had been scratching for him to return _for hours_ and finally had overstepped his boundaries, calling out to him directly in his state of controlled meditation.

“I told you _not to bother_ me while I’m out.” The raven-haired man spat at the horned entity which took several steps back upon seeing his increasingly annoyed state. “I’ll return when I feel like it.”

“You’ve been gone for _too long_ this time.” Time was funny in _Hell_ and several minutes on Earth could equate to _years_ there, in the right places. “There is growing unrest because of your absence. The lower levels are stirring with … concern.”

“Unrest? Or is it dissent?” He scoffed. “Who is it this time?” He stood and stretched his arms out above his head in an overly dramatic manner. Shaitan hesitated in answering and Lucifer sighed. “Is it [Samyaza](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samyaza) again? Or [Kokabiel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kokabiel)?” The demon _always_ hated when Lucifer was forced to … _silence_ another of his _fallen_ brethren. “Who is it Shaitan? I don’t have time to play your games today.”

“There is no need for names. I would ask that you just visit the levels to show your presence.” The djinn shifted nervously. “They just need to _see_ that you are–”

“Do not overstep your bounds.”

“ _My Lord_.” Shaitan had _always_ called him that title with great disdain. “While it may not seem that long to you while you are there, the lower levels have felt your absence far great–”

Lucifer interrupted. “I know how _Hell_ works. Don’t talk to me like I’m unfamiliar with the workings of _my own kingdom_. I asked a question. Will you really make me ask twice?” Shaitan closed his eyes and the archangel’s eyes sparked with red fury. “ ** _Who is it?_** ” He sneered the question. He _hated_ having to ask _anything_ twice.

“Your infatuation with this _creature_ has affected their faith in yo–”

Lucifer interrupted _again_. “Faith?! Did you just say _FAITH?_ Never use that word to describe what you and _your fallen brethren_ feel towards _me_. We both know you’re here only out of necessity, _Djinn._ ” As his anger reached a new level, red electricity started to spark across his cheek and the demon took a step back at the sight of it. “I gave you _sanctuary_ here. I _allow_ you to exist. Or have you forgotten?”

“No.” Shaitan shook his head carefully. “We have _not_ forgotten. You make it _very_ difficult to _forget_ , do you not?”

Lucifer chuckled. “You are more than _welcome_ to leave anytime you wish …” Cocking his head to the left and then to the right, the archangel’s eyes grew wide with delight. “Oh wait … You can’t. No one can. _That’s right_ … ”

“ _Forgive my words._ I did not mean any disrespec–”

He scoffed at the djinn’s attempt at a meandering apology. “Oh please. All you _ever_ mean _is_ disrespect. Don’t make me regret the mercy I’ve shown your kind. I asked _not to be disturbed_ and yet … here you are .. _disturbing_.” Shaitan shifted back a foot as the red lightning arced again. Lucifer took a _very deep_ breath in, closing his eyes as he did so and the red energy abated. “We all have the same goal, Shaitan.” He opened his eyes and the demon nodded in agreement. “The nephilim is the key. She is _my key_. And once I’m back on Earth, I can rip that _fucking_ wall down that _my brother_ built around us.”

“You will forgive me but …” There was a brief hesitation. “You said the same with the last half-breed.” The horned man said in almost a whisper. He knew Shaitan wasn’t stupid, but he seemed to want to pick a fight today. It was unwise.

“Yes, well … he was … _difficult_. I couldn’t touch him directly, couldn’t I?” Lucifer cocked his head to the right as he tried to read why Shaitan would also be so _difficult_ himself today. “Besides, he proved useful in the end. I can _reach_ her … again. He opened the way. I don’t have to rely on … _others_.” He paused at finishing the sentence, as he always had a hard time deciding what to call that _abomination_. That … _cursed shard of his former brother_.

“Your brother?” Shaitan offered and Lucifer scoffed immediately.

“ _Don’t_ ever call that _thing_ Ozryel. Whatever the fuck it was, it wasn’t even a pale shadow of my eldest brother.” If it had carried even an _ounce_ of his brother’s intelligence, then the World would already be a burning pile of _ash_ right now, and Lucifer would have been sitting on it’s crumbling throne … with his _other_ by his side. The _Seventh’s_ plan was fraught with bad design and poor decisions from the very beginning. It was as if a five year old had orchestrated it all. Even how it had chosen to treat _his nephilim_ was … _unacceptable_. “Besides, it doesn’t matter … like I said, I can reach her now. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then may I ask why are you continuing to toy with her?” Shaitan said brazenly.

> _What if this whole crusade’s_
> 
> _A charade_
> 
> _And behind it all there’s a price to be paid_
> 
> _For the blood_
> 
> _On which we dine_
> 
> _Justified in the name of the holy and the divine_

Lucifer’s interest suddenly piqued as he looked at the djinn wide-eyed. “Have you been _watching_ us?” He felt Shaitan scratching and he was enraged as he realized the demon had actually been _looking_ through him.

“I …” Shaitan shifted as he stuttered, realizing his curiosity had been exposed. “You were not responding and …”

“My _mind_ is not something you will wish to venture into … _ever again_.” The red sparked again and the djinn took another big step back. “Are we clear?”

“How long to do you think you can keep the _prophet_ away from her mind before they begin to suspect something, _Lord_?  There is **_no need_** for this risk.  Why not just push her to the same end that was originally planned–”

“End?” Lucifer wasn’t known for his patience with the _fallen djinn or grigori_. Interlopers, _all of them_. They had fallen millennia after he, and none of them had stood with him when he had revolted against the order of Heaven the _first time_. “The same _end_?” He asked, his voice seething with growing annoyance. “Because, my dear _Satan_.” He used the title to provoke, as Shaitan _hated_ being called that name. “You catch more flies with _honey_ than _vinegar_.”

“You are helping her though, you are telling her _too much–_ ”

“Because … dear little _demon._ ” Lucifer halted Shaitan’s words mid-sentence. “The _best_ lies are always rooted in _truth_.” Did he really have the time to dally here and did he _really_ need to explain himself further to this _creature_? “Besides, as the _seventh_ learned the hard way with the _fifth_ invictus and then later with her, the _sixth_. Hayyoth cannot simple be **_forced_** _to fall_.”

He turned from the demon to approach the door, assuming the conversation was finally concluded, but Shaitan only pressed further. “If they cannot fall, _My Lord_ , then what’s the point of this? Should you not be _here_ instead?”

“I didn’t say we _can’t_ fall, you dumb shit.” He turned, as he put his hands out dramatically, waving at his own body. “I’m proof _that_ statement’s pretty damn wrong.”

“I don’t follow, _Lord_. I–”

“I said **_force_**. That useless _shard_ couldn’t _force_ his own boy to fall and it would have _never_ been successful in driving _her_ to the same boring end. _No_.” The red electricity sparked across his cheek again slowly, arcing down his cheek as it spread to his neck and collarbone. “You have to _make_ the choice. It is the _freedom to fall_.”

“I believe Ozryel might _disagree_ with you on that point.” The horned man laughed at his words and when Lucifer’s face fell completely serious which caused the demon’s own smile to fade instantly.

“Oh … trust me, Shaitan. Ozryel _chose_ his fate. Quite readily, in fact, and without a moment of hesitation. I _made_ him decide between himself and _our brother_. In the end, he very deliberately fell.” Lucifer waved off the fallen Djinn with growing disdain. “But please, explain to me why am I explaining myself to you again?”

“It has not just been since you’ve been _reconnected_ to her, _Lucifer_.” When had he grown the audacity to use his given name? “You’ve been absent nearly her _entire_ life. You’ve continued to watch her even when she was–”

“Make your point carefully, Fallen.” The red sparks arced down his arms from his neck and across his hands now and Shaitan gulped timidly as he continued. “And I would suggest quickly … before my patience with you completely withers.”

“Each year is _millennia_ to the lower levels.” Shaitan’s voice cracked with nervous urgency as he stared into the terrifying rainbow eyes.

“And never forget that I seek to _free_ us … _all_.” Lucifer said calmly. “Is there no greater goal than that?”

“ _My Lord_ , they simply question your intentions with her–” His sentence was cut short as the archangel closed the meager distance the djinn had created between them, grabbing his jaw firmly as he pushed the red electricity viciously into the djinn’s body and the demon screamed out in agony from it, his body jolting with painful jerks as he succumbed to the pain. When he released his grip, Shaitan’s legs buckled as he crumpled forward, hitting his knees to the ground with a loud thump. Lucifer burned with glee as he stood towering above _the most powerful of the_ __[Shaytan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil_\(Islam\))_ Djinn_ , on his knees again.

“And you, _Satan_?” Lucifer looked down upon him from above, the red still burning fiercely across _all_ of his visible skin. “Do **_you_** question _my intentions_ as well?”

“ _No_ …” The red-skinned demon coughed the single word and he gasped for air as the wicked feeling of the intruding energy finally started to dissipate and it left his body shaking. There was _nothing_ in existence more brutal than the excruciating sting of a Hayyoth’s divinity. “No … I do not.”

“Then let me do what I’ve promised to do without further interruptions. If you can’t keep the peace here during my absences, then I will find another who can.” He knelt at him, tilting his chin up so that the djinn could see that the red fury had entirely abated. “Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Shaitan rasped as he nodded weakly.

“Now …” Standing, Lucifer pulled his coat down to remove the wrinkles from it, and he tugged at each long sleeve to accomplish the same task. “Who do I need to … “ Punish. Silence. _Burn._ “… _Visit_?”

The demon cleared his throat as he struggled to his feet finally. “[Asbeel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asbeel).”

Clasping a hand on the horned beings shoulder, Lucifer beamed with happiness as he chortled. “See … How much easier would this have been if you had just started with that, _old friend._ ”

 

* * *

  

> _Two Weeks Later_
> 
> _Nearly Deserted Downtown Philadelphia_

As she pulled herself up to the fire escape steps, she could already hear him hitting the roof above and running. She only had the final straight up of the last floor to go before she looked down suddenly and crippling vertigo gripped her immediately, causing her to halt her ascension and grab the metal of the ladder, pulling herself snugly against it in terror.

_Oh fuck. We’re high now._

“What in _the hell_ are you doing?!” EL screamed from above and as she looked directly up, she could see him leaning over the lip of the roof, waving at her. “Come on! You’re gaining on him! Dude! He’s getting away!” He pointed off in the direction behind the building, screaming in a frantic voice.

She tried to push herself to climb again, but she felt her hands shaking and as she looked down, the pit of her stomach fell again.

_Fucking heights._

“Are you kidding me?!?” She heard him from above, but she was gripped with an immoveable fear as she clung to the metal even tighter and she closed her eyes. Suddenly, his voice was much closer, mere inches from her. It was more relaxed than angry now. “Aurora. _Look at me._ ” He said calmly.

Slowly her eyes opened and she stared at him face to face. She wasn’t sure how it was possible. Was he fucking _hovering_ or something!? She wasn’t about to look down to verify and she closed her eyes again tightly.

His voice was the most patient she’d heard it since he’d dropped the fake Ellie facade. “Open your eyes, Dawn.”

“I can’t.” She stuttered. “I can’t do _this_. It’s _too_ high. I can’t–”

“You’ve been _higher_. Don’t you remember?” He coaxed her carefully, reminding her of the past. “I watched you two make that impressive jump. I was there. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.” She said simply. “But …”

“But what?” EL sighed.

“I wasn’t alone.” She bit back the tears that fought to escape.

“And you aren’t alone now … You don’t have to be _afraid_. _You aren’t going to fall._ ”

She felt his hand on her shoulder and she opened one eye first, finding he was smiling genuinely at her. As she opened the next, she still couldn’t move an inch yet. “You don’t know that. I could fall …”

“ _Even if you did._ It won’t kill you. I promise.” EL looked down and shrugged simply. “Not from _this_ height, at least. You are tougher than you realize.” Was that supposed to _ease_ her fear!? That statement was having quite the opposite effect actually and she held the metal even firmer, her black leather gloves squeaking with her tightening grip.

“Why are we here, Aurora?” He asked patiently and she looked at him with furrowed brows. “What do you want?”

“I …” Taking a deep breath in, she sighed as she understood what he was asking her and _why_. “ _Him_.”

“Use it … to _encourage_ yourself. Think about what you want and know that unless you do this now, it’s unlikely that you’ll _ever_ have it again. That you’ll _never_ have _him_ again.” She nodded simply as her body started to relax finally and he smiled madly as he looked up to the roof and her gaze followed.

“Good.” His tone immediately changed as he pointed up. “Now … _MOVE YOUR_ **_ASS_**!”

As she breached the lip of the roof, she saw her prey already four buildings over, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as he went. When she started to sprint, the _Shiny Man_ turned and saw her in mad pursuit, and he picked up his pace as much as he _could_. EL was right … _she was faster than he was_. When she came to the end of her building, she didn’t have time to hesitate or halt from her own run, and the momentum of her body flung her across the twenty foot gap with ease. 

When her boots hit the next building’s roof, she cringed as she assumed the impact would throw her to the ground and she honestly expected something to break within her. When nothing did, and she slid to a standing position, she could see EL on the _next_ rooftop, calling to her.

“Good!” She knew his next words before he had to even scream them at her, as she had his voice already repeating them over and over again in her mind as she eyes locked onto the _fleeing strigoi_. “Now do it again!”

**_Move … your … ass …  
_ **

****

* * *

  

> _Two Weeks Earlier_
> 
> _Touch Down in Philadelphia_

She was actually tired, for the first time in months and when she woke up, EL was back from _home_. She didn’t think she wanted to really know why, so she didn’t push the subject at all.

As she left the plane, there was already a nice car waiting and a very large, armed man driving it who was instructed to take her wherever she wished to go and when she turned to EL, hoping for a discrete answer as to where they needed to go, he just shrugged simply.

“Sorry, my intel is a bit … _one-sided_.” She crawled into the vehicle and the big man asked for a destination and EL shrugged _again_.

“Can you take me to a hotel for now?” The driver nodded.

She stared at her companion for a moment before pulling her phone out and holding it up to her ear and he giggled at her cleverness.

“You don’t know where to go?”

“Well … I know _he’s_ here somewhere. I just don’t know where … yet. The last … _update_ … I got was from a couple of days ago.”

“Who’s here?” She pressed, as she asked fakely into the phone.

“Your _Shiny Man_ , Aurora.” He watched carefully as her eyes grew wide. Her brows furrowed deeply as her heart began to race and he smiled. “He has something we _need_.”

“Where …” She started to ask but past memories flooded into her, clouding her ability to speak clearly. She closed her eyes tightly and it wasn’t until she felt his hand on hers that she opened them again. _Breathe_. She commanded herself sharply. _Breathe_. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed quite a few people here lately. The last soul we got was a few days ago.”

“We?” Her mind still swam with emotion and she found herself incapable of complex sentences as her back had actually started to _itch_ with the memory of that _bastard’s gaunt face_. “Last one you … got?”

“Dark souls.” He looked out the window for a brief moment, surveying the broken city before turning back to her. “He’s sent a few _our_ way lately.”

“I don’t understand. Can’t you …” _Breathe_. “Can’t you just _go and find him_?”

EL’s smile was grand and he shook his head. “No. I’m not _omniscient,_ silly. I can’t see into Earth, not directly. I only get hearsay by those who are sent our way.”

“You’re here now.” She pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s because I’m _tethered_ to you. You’re my eyes.”

“Tethered? Why?” There was still so much he hadn’t explained to her and her frustration over that fact seeped into her voice. “How is that possible?”

“Because … _we’re family_ , Aurora.” There was an almost palpable silence in the air as she stared into his bewitching eyes and he looked genuinely happy at uttering that statement. When her gaze became too intense, he turned to look out the window but he assured her. “He’s here. We’ll find him. We’ll get what we need and you’ll have your _revenge_. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

 _Her revenge?_ The thought of it rocked her slightly. When she had the opportunity for it in the past, she’d chosen Quintus’ life over it. Would she really get the opportunity at it again? Was this _man_ providing it to her after all this time?

When it seemed like the conversation was finished, she put the phone down and stared out the other window. The city was wrecked, but still somewhat inhabited. Its general proximity to New York likely drove people away over fear of the fallout.

For the first time in days, her internal dialog struck up as a way to cope with the news of the _Shiny Man_.

“Why is he even still alive?”

“Good question, huh? Why didn’t he die in the … explosion? With his _Master_?”

“The last time we saw him … Quintus had relieved him of his stinger.”

“Hehehehehe. That _motherfucker_.”

EL turned from the window, annoyance covering his face. “ _Please stop that. It’s very distracting._ ”

She looked down at the phone and considered putting it up to her face to answer him, but he spoke again quickly. “You don’t need to do _that_ anymore.”

“To …” She whispered over to him, hoping the driver couldn’t hear her. “To do what anymore?”

“Talk to yourself.” He said. “I’m back now. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

“Can you … “ She stared at him accusingly. “Can you read my mind?”

EL smiled innocently. “Only the surface of it. Only when you _shout_ it at me and when you _do that_ … that’s shouting. I mean, I guess it makes sense. You do it _because_ of me, but–”

“I don’t do it because of you.” She scoffed and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“ _Oh really_? Tell me … When did you start that … _little habit_. When precisely?”

She didn’t really know and as she thought back, a chill crawled up her spine. He’d given her back every memory that Michael had taken and now she realized she had started soon after that night when _her voice_ had been stolen. “I was … talking to myself because …”

“Because you became disconnected. Silenced.” She stared in quiet awe as his words made sense. “You should feel proud … most _go mad_ from it. You found another way to … _cope_. When you lost _my voice_ , you replaced it with your own.”

The _implication_ of his explanation was hard to miss and she asked immediately. “Mad?” Revelation sank across her face as she looked down to her wrist and where the mark _had_ been. “My father was mad …”

EL nodded. “And _his_ father, and _his_ father before him, and so on and so forth. Why did you think that was?” Did she venture a guess? She sat in silence as she waited for him to disclose more. “They weren’t _born_ mad … none of them. He _made_ them that way. I watched him _burn_ the divinity out of each and every child, Aurora.”

She had _never_ gotten to meet her father. He had been lost to the madness a year after she was born. She always assumed it would eventually be _her_ end and she had spent her _entire_ life expecting it. It would be her _fate_ , her birthright, her … _legacy_. _“But_ **_why_**?”

“As I’ve already said. You’re forbidden. His indiscretion had to be hidden … obfuscated from … **_others_**.”

“No, I mean … _why not just kill us?_ ” She shook her head. “If our _existence_ was such a terrible problem, why not just _end it_ before it spread?”

EL sighed. “My brother _is_ a cruel man. Both _Hands_ had to be. That was their duty. But, he is not without mercy or _emotion_ or _love_.” She saw sorrow in his face now as he stared back out the window before continuing to speak. “It was always said that Michael was the _emotional_ one out of all of us. He has always been morally conflicted about following orders, especially when it came at the price of someone he loved.”

Dawn scoffed at the statement. “You think he _loves_ us? That he _loves_ me?”

“I _know_ it, in fact.” EL looked back out the window as he sighed. “In his own, convoluted, twisted, backwards way, he loves _all_ of us.” There was a peaceful tone in his voice and she understood something she had missed before. _Longing_.

“You _love_ him too, don’t you?” She asked.

“Michael has _always_ been my favorite brother.” He turned back to her with a sideways grin. “He was the _only_ one that fought for me when I fell, Aurora. I’ve always _missed_ him the most.”

 

* * *

  

> _Two Weeks Later_
> 
> _Downtown Philadelphia Rooftops_

She was gaining on him quickly and as they were coming to the end of the high buildings, she watched the _Shiny Man_ back up, sprinting as fast as he could before jumping off with incredible speed, launching himself towards a building that she assumed was _way too far away_. Her eyes grew wide as she fully expected him to simply splatter against the bricks and slide down the side, but miraculously he barely grabbed the edge of the roof and began to scramble, pulling himself up its side.

 _Shit_. There was _no way_ she could make _that_ jump and she resolved that she would need to move the hunt back to the ground. As she looked around for a nearby ladder, she spied it on the far east side and took only a single step towards it before EL halted her, standing in front of her path.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time for that. He’s gonna get away!” He pointed, instructing her in the other direction.

She scrunched her nose at him, laughing at the suggestion. “I can’t make that. You’re crazy.” She could have walked through him, but she didn’t. That would have been _weird_ and as she started to step around his figure and he grabbed her arm forcefully.

“Yes, you can.” He assured her. “You can make _much farther_ than that, in fact.”

Pulling her arm back sharply, she pointed at the distance. “NO I CAN’T. We’ll find him another way.” As she stepped, his voice grew calm again. _Damnit_. She preferred when he was being _an asshole_.

“Remind me _again_.” He said smoothly. “Why are we here, Aurora?”

As she spun, she spat at him fiercely. “I’m not here to _die_ , if that’s what you are asking.” It wasn’t fear that was keeping her from trying this, it was _logic_. Didn’t he understand that? There was _no way_.

“You can though.” He tried again. “You _can_ make that jump. You just don’t realize what you are capable of yet.”

“Then it’s not possible. Right now, at _this_ very instant.” She shrugged. “If I can’t do it yet, then I can’t, there’s no way–”

> _I’m a demon_
> 
> _And I’m fiending for the fear that’s breathing_
> 
> _Why you feel that terror_
> 
> _Shaking in your bones_
> 
> _I don’t need your luck_
> 
> _Told you, I can make my own_
> 
> _Welcome to the feast_
> 
> _I unleash_
> 
> _I’m a mother fucking beast_

EL smiled as he interrupted her swiftly, offering his hand for her to take. “Then … let _me_ do it _for you_.” 

“What?” Dawn was taken back suddenly. “What do you mean? Do it _for me_?”

“Oh please. You _know_ what I mean.” EL said patiently. “Just like Hathų did with you. Let me do it.”

She remembered that day when she had stepped back and Hathų had taken her body, speaking to the animal braves in their native tongue because she had been unable to do so quickly. “No …” She hesitated as she stared at his outstretched hand. “I can do it … I can try …” She _knew_ she couldn’t though and she stared at the distance again.

“Can you? Really?” He asked. “Decide, Aurora. But decide quickly.” He pointed in the direction of the man who was now three buildings away. “Because he’s getting away.”

_Ah crap._

When she took his hand, it wasn’t like it had been with the native woman. When he stepped _into_ her, she saw everything painted with a hue of red. She felt everything he was doing, and she could _feel_ the very edge of his mind humming within as he looked down at her hands with her eyes, gripping her fists tightly for a moment.

 ** _Yes. This will do nicely._** She heard him muse.

 ** _Come on! Move your ass!_** She commanded _him_ this time and she felt her body smile. **_He’s getting away, remember?!_**

 ** _Yes, ma’am_**.

What happened next shocked her to the point of brief silence. He stared down at her hands again, opening them and she felt a _pull_ from somewhere _within_ her body as _golden_ energy began to spark across her fingers. The pain, however crippling it felt to _her_ , didn’t seem to affect him as he turned her body to the side of the roof and began to step up to the lip.

 _Wait!_ She almost screamed … didn’t they need to back up? There is _nooooo_ way she could just _JUMP_ it, but as she felt her legs flex, the energy crackled across her skin and they were airborne, vaulting not just to the other building, but _completely across_ it and landing in the middle of the next with a _thunderous_ thud.

 ** _Oh my good god!_** She screamed internally during the jump and tried to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. The only thing that rattled in her head was EL’s crazed laughter.

**_Yes!!!_ **

The _Shiny Man_ was only one building away now and the thunder that had erupted from her _lightning_ , caused him to turn around briefly as he tried to flee _faster_. This time, EL didn’t jump again, but he started to _run_ and she felt her body go from zero to _faster …_ instantly.

 

* * *

 

Thomas urged himself _not_ to look back. Every time he did, it was only a distraction from his flight. He knew once he came to the end of this roof, he would just jump down. No matter the height, or how much the impact might break him, this was his only shot. There was no way he could outrun her. And after what he had just seen, he knew _death_ would be better than allowing her to capture him. When he was a mere two feet from the edge, he felt the strike against his skull from behind.

His body crumpled at the force of it and his body slide across the ground, coming to a halt as it hit the lip of the building’s edge. He could have stood up and tried to fight, but he remembered the last time he’d been face to face with a nephilim. Trying to fight had proved … _useless_. Instead, he chose to curl himself up into a ball on the ground as he begged for reprieve.

“Please. _PLEASE_! I can be useful to you! PLEASE! I SWEAR!”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, you can.” Her voice was chillingly void of emotion and he felt her grab his shirt, pulling him so that he was facing her. It was in this single moment that he saw the rainbow of colors spread throughout her irises. These were not the eyes he remembered, and his body quaked with fear as he recalled his _Master_ describing _The First Fallen_ in such a way.

**_Oh Gott._ **

“My Dear …” He uttered with a trembling voice. “I like your new haircut.” He offered a timid smile before she struck him with a closed fist against his jaw, sending his body to the ground with extreme force and he was intimately reminded of the last time he’d been struck the same way by the last _angel_.

_She hits just like her–_

“ ** _Hello Thomas_**.” Another strike landed on his other jaw as he attempted to sit back up and before she lifted him with a fistful of his shirt to face her. “It is _quite_ a pleasure to _finally_ meet you. I’ve heard so _very much …_ ”

“ _My Lord_.” He uttered as he saw a mischievous grin fall upon her face. “Please. How may I be of service to _you_?”

“We’re actually hoping we can _all_ be useful to _each other_.” Goosebumps ran across his arms as he repeated the word to himself. **_We?_**

 ** _Oh mein Gott_**.

“How so, _My Lord?_ ” He pleaded with fake eagerness as she released her grip on him and he remained on his knees before her, looking up with terror a moment before the myriad of colors faded to her usual deep green.

“Because, I’m hoping we both want the same thing.” Her voice was her normal tone now, laced with emotional defiance and he sighed in relief, though even if _The Beast_ wasn’t in control of her now, Thomas knew that _he_ lurked underneath her skin somehow … _somewhere_.

“And what is it that we both want, _Fräulein_?”

“We both want someone out of Heaven.” Thomas blinked at the statement in confusion at first but as it began to sink in, he smiled briefly at its consideration. _His … Master?_ Was that … even possible?

She returned his grin as she knelt down to him, grabbing his shirt again.

##  _**“** But first … where’d you put the **Lumen?”**_


	31. 4.4 - Knowledge

Quintus walked out of the stockade and into the _Great Hall_. He had not been in this beautiful place since Raphael had taken him through on his first _real_ outing since he arrived. As he pushed his human facade back on, no one took notice of him and he hesitated for a moment to proceed. Raphael had set him free without consulting Michael and he seemed to no longer have any _shadows_.

All in all, Puriel and Dukiel had proved to be quite useless against his will power and he shrugged, deciding that if he was to be followed again, he was sure they would seek _him_ out. At the very least, he didn’t wish to make it so easy on them and he smirked to himself. As he walked down the massive spiraled staircase, he felt the scratching in the very back of his mind again as Ancharia called out to him.

He shoved her desire to see him away, as he’d done so many times before and he felt _no guilt_ about it. She wasn’t exactly as he remembered and he wasn’t ready to revisit her _quite yet_. At _that_ moment, he thought about _his real mother_ , Honoria. They hadn’t _called_ out to him at all since he’d left them at the courthouse that day and he sighed with a simple nod.

 _He knew it was finally time_ to seek them out, as he had put it off far too long. But first, he would find the prophet again. At first, he felt like he should find her to apologize for leaving so abruptly, but given the circumstances that had caused his sudden flight, all guilt lingering over his actions faded away. She had tried to manipulate him, after all, but in the end had done a _very poor job_ of it. It was obvious that deception was not her forte as she didn’t put an ounce of effort into researching her intended tactic beforehand. _Sloppy_.

Regardless, Ozryel’s parting words concerned him _yet again_ and he needed to understand if his actions would have any lasting consequences on his _Poet’s_ fate. As he exited the Citadel completely, he looked around, unsure where to begin. He had no idea where the prophet lived nor where the afterlife of her people was located.

As he found himself pondering how he might track her, he felt a feeling wash over him. It was not unlike the itch of Ancharia calling to him, although this was a _push_ instead of a _pull_. Walking down the street, at first he didn’t understand where he was going until he realized he was actually _steering_ himself to Hathų.

 

* * *

 

Raphael waited patiently at the desk while the short _cherub_ searched through the archives in the back. As the pudgy little angelic woman came back, she smiled at him.

“No, as I said before, I am sorry. There is no record of _that_ visit.” Sitting down quickly, she spun her desk chair back around and sat down, shrugging merrily as she picked up her book and began to open it again.

“I’m so sorry, but … “ He hesitated as he could feel her jovial nature begin to fade. “[Zophiel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jophiel), _that’s just not possible_.” Raphael chortled. He didn’t wish to be rude, so he cheerfully asked again. “I don’t wish to be a bother, but can you check for me one more time? Perhaps it was _not yesterday?_ Can you check all dates since … the end of the siege?” He flashed her his most sincere smile and she blushed slightly before scrunching her face up, seemingly disappointed in his lack of confidence in her ability as _Watchman of God._

“For you, _Traveler_ … of course, but I’ve already looked _twice_.” She reminded him as she stood up and shuffled to the back. Raphael waited patiently behind the reception desk, tapping his middle finger on the table to pass the time. After a few minutes, she came back into view, empty handed and he frowned. “Nope. There were no visits by the _Ishim_ … for **_any dates_**.”

“And no one has been by?” Raphael raised an eyebrow.

The implication was that she might have _missed_ someone in her office and she squinted at him with growing dissatisfaction. “No. I would know, _Traveler_. Perhaps your information is … _bad_?”

Nodding in hesitant acceptance, Raphael turned and left the office, unsure of what this really meant. He’d questioned the many people who had seen Quintus enter the booth. Had he not used the booth at all? Perhaps he had overestimated the Born’s intelligence and he had been unable to figure out how to work it before Michael had forcibly removed him? That made no sense, did it? Why would Michael have punished him in such a way? Simply for _misbehaving_? Perhaps, his older brother could be quite emotional, after all.

Raphael stopped for a moment and turned around, heading back into the office, smiling at the annoyed cherub again. “Hello again, Zophiel.”

“Yes?” Clearing her throat to show it was apparent that her patience with him was growing thin, she smiled fakely at him. “What can I do for you now, _Traveler_?”

He smirked as he blinked at her affectionately. “I was hoping that you could find some other records for me?”

Sighing heavily, she stood up and asked plainly. “For who and what date?”

Where to start really? He fished back through his vivid memories until he remembered the man’s face, the _only_ person he’d seen Quintus speak with recently. He’d watched the boy closely since his release, but in all of his wanderings, he had mostly spoken with people who had died _long_ ago. Sertorius, Decimus …

“May I see any visits by a _Professor Abraham Setrakian_? He died _very recently_. During the siege in fact.” He asked and she began to make her trip to the back records room again before she turned.

“Any date in particular?”

“ _All of them. Please._ ” This obviously displeased her greatly, but she made _no_ complaints, only returning a few minutes later empty handed, shaking her round head to the archangel. “Nope. No visits at all.”

He sighed dramatically, making a fist and gently hammering it on her desk in frustration while giving the cherub a tiny pout. “Can you check _one more_ name for me?” Raphael bit his lower lip gingerly and then he grinned again showing as much teeth and innocence as he could muster to the record keeper. “ _Please_?”

“Of course, _Traveler_.” She was becoming less and less cheerful and he looked down, seeing that she simply wished to get back to her book, which was sitting idly face down on her desk. “What’s the name?”

“Can you try _Miriam Setrakian_?”

He would start there. Everyone that _she_ visited, and everyone that _they_ had visited and so and so forth. If Quintus was hiding something, Raphael needed to know what it was, he just needed to find the right _view_ into it.

As he waited for the cherub to return, he made a profound decision. For the first time since the night Ozyrel fell and he watched his older brother cut to pieces before him, Raphael’s electricity sparked across his face, neck and hands, and the light blue began to deepen in color, turning into a rich vibrant purple. As he pulled the thick and most divine power from his Hayyoth well, he began to delicately reopen the parts of the Nexus that he had locked down that tragic night.

Unfortunately, he would need to start digging deeper. It was dangerous _and_ unwise for Quintus to hide anything from _him_. But he was not entirely surprised, _the boy_ had _always_ been difficult, hadn’t he? Opening the doors he shut so long ago was a risk though. While he might be able to uncover the secrets he sought, he could be exposing _his own_ for _all to see_.

_Tread carefully, Raphael. Patience. It would be unwise, after all this time, to act rashly._

Zophiel waddled back over, trying to balance a giant box in her hands. As he stepped forward to grab the box, he saw the crystals within, filled to its brim and he smiled. _Finally something to work with_.

“Thank you so much!” He was pleased and when he attempted to turn and take his leave, she called out to him.

“Oh, that’s not the only one. There’s more.” She chuckled with satisfaction. “ _A lot more._ ”

“How many boxes are there?” His brows furrowed.

She laughed at him and he felt like he was the butt of a joke suddenly. “That’s just the _first year_ , dear.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow now. “Wait … How many _years_ are there?”

She just smiled quietly as she started to head to the back for the next box, shouting back to him when she was completely out of site. “Well, she died in 1967. It looks like she visited her husband _a lot_.”

_Oh fuck._

_Patience indeed._

He walked beyond the urban sprawl and into the outskirts and still, he kept walking. Spirits and people became more parse and finally he found himself walking through a dense forest as he pushed himself further and further towards the prophet.

The terrain was not entirely unlike the countryside back in Italy, but this was very clearly the North American landscape. He walked for some time, absorbing and enjoying the life that seemed to bounce and buzz around him before he heard her voice off in the far distance. She was laughing and talking to someone and he picked up a youthful male voice along with it though he couldn’t make out their words. As he cleared the final tree line, he found himself in an absolutely breathtaking meadow.

There was a simple stream that ran down the center of it and he was immediately reminded of _his pond_. Everything was so familiar in this instant and when he stepped forward, goosebumps immediately rushed his arms as he looked around and realized the entire area was flooded with dragonflies.

He knew he wasn’t alive anymore, but in this place, he felt like he was again. Everything about it was electrified with life and when he smiled at the sensation, the breeze shifted towards him and swept through the area. The army of flying warriors were immediately sent directly towards him and he had that same feeling of _something_ watching him again. He was _convinced_ that he might see another stag breech the tree line and drink from the water, just as it had done that fateful day.

The change of wind and the sudden influx of insects carried with it a young boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, who came bounding towards the dhampir in giggling pursuit of his winged prey. Quintus had released his human appearance once he reached the forest and he suddenly felt as if he _should not have_ as he came face to face with the gangly child. But the look on the boy’s face wasn’t fear nor was it shock, and an eerily familiar feeling rushed over Quintus as the boy _smiled_ at him.

His light brown hair was incredibly long, the length carrying it at least halfway down the his long torso. It was parted down the center and tied at the base of his skull. Overall, he was _quite_ tall for his age, only lacking a few inches to match Quintus’ own height and his eyes were a dull , yet somehow striking gray. His face was slender and long, and his jaw was overly square. His skin was flawless and light tan in color. As the boy cocked his head to the right, he spoke _something_ to him with the intonation of a question and his eyes grew wide.

Hathų screamed words in their direction in that same native tongue the boy had just used. The last time Quintus had heard _this_ language was from the mouth of the Black King. It was Onondagan. She turned around to face the direction of the child, beaming widely, her smile disappeared as her eyes fell upon Quintus.

“Quintus …” She gasped lowly as she completely halted her step, her eyes growing the widest he’d _ever_ seen them. He only knew one other person who had _eyes_ capable of becoming _that big_. “What … What … ” She stuttered. She paused. Her heart raced. She gripped her fists tightly. She took a deep breath. “What _on Earth_ are you doing _here_!?”

Quintus smiled. She was a terrible liar _indeed_ and her nervousness belied _too much_ to him in this important instant. “On _Earth_ , princess?” He questioned antagonistically.

She was hiding something.

 

* * *

 

He waited patiently at the tree line right where she told him to _stay_. He watched as she spoke to the boy in their shared language for a moment, though the boy paid her no attention. Quintus questioned the boy’s sanity in this moment as he seemed to disregard Hathų’s existence entirely, his focus was unrelenting on the flying creatures that bounded about and he pushed her out of his way as he ran back to the water, jumping into the stream and splashing about in it.

She stood and stared at the boy for a moment before she returned to Quintus, pulling her leather dress up so that she could step over the higher plants. She was _clearly_ unhappy with his presence there and he smiled at her again as she approached him.

Suddenly, the boy seemed to noticed that they existed _and_ that they were leaving. Popping his head up out of the weeds, he waved to Quintus only and screamed at him in a language with which the dhampir was _quite_ familiar while he pointed at the dragonflies all around him. “[Nolite ergo solliciti esse, hominem deformem! Non solum sive! Et ait illi tu es vigilantes!](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Do%20not%20worry%2C%20ugly%20man!%20%20You%20aren't%20alone%20either!%20%20They%20said%20they%20are%20watching%20you%20too!)”

 

Cocking his head to the right, Quintus stared at the tall child and immediately asked, “He speaks _Lat–_?”

“How did you find me?” Ignoring his question completely, she asked gruffly as she stomped up to him and Quintus only shrugged innocently. Considering the manipulation she had attempted on _him,_ he was quite enjoying causing her such discomfort.

“I do not know, really. I simply wished to see you and I eventually found myself here.”

“I thought you were in …” She squinted at him, unsure of what to say next as she raised an eyebrow and Quintus offered her a hand to help her step up into the tree line.

Begrudgingly, she accepted his grip and he finished her sentence for her. “Prison?”

“Yes.” She said. “ _That._ ”

“Indeed. I _was_.”

“And Michael has _already_ released you?” She began to walk ahead and he followed closely, increasingly pleased with himself. “I was under the impression you would be there for quite some time.”

“Raphael saw it fit to release me.” He said simply and Hathų turned, shock encompassing her dark face again.

“Raphael cannot do that.!” She spat and Quintus shrugged innocently again. “He has no _authority_ to do that–”

“I assure you, I told him the very same, but he released me nonetheless.”

Hathų scrunched her nose, waving an accusatory index finger towards him as she turned. “You should be careful not to anger _Michael_. He is …” She trailed off and Quintus stopped walking, looking down at her pointing finger.

“He is _what_ exactly?” He pressed as annoyance leaked into his rattling voice.

“Unforgiving.” She said plainly.

“And because of _that_ … You wish me to _fear_ him?” He smirked with a bitter laugh. “I fear _no one_ , princess.” He passed her swiftly and began to walk ahead and it was her turn to hurriedly catch up to _him_ from behind.

“Then you are a _fool_.” Her insult was pointless to him, but it stung nonetheless and he swung around from his stroll at such a speed that Hathų jumped with fright.

Stepping forward, he left only inches between them as he stared down to her menacingly. “Why should I fear? I believe his _exact_ words were … **_irrevocably innocent_**. He cannot change his mind now even if he wished.”

“You think _oblivion_ is the _only_ punishment that you can be threatened with, Invictus?” There was a fire in her voice that he had not heard before and she spoke with such growing disdain for him. She was _not_ angry that he left the cell without Michael’s permission. No, she was _angry_ that he had found her … _here_ , in this strange place. He paused as he looked back towards the direction of the meadow.

“Who is the boy?”

“He is none of your concern.” She walked ahead past him and Quintus only chuckled.

“Very well. Perhaps I will just ask _him_ then.” Turned to return to the child, he felt Hathų’s hand on his arm, gently tugging him to turn back to her. “That is … if he even knows who _he is_ himself.”

“Please.” As he looked at her now, the rage had abated and now she only expressed concern. “Do not bother him. _Please_. He is … _unwell_.” Was it _concern_? Or was it _shame_?

“Who is he?” Quintus asked again and this time he saw her body relax as she succumbed completely to his request.

“He is my son.” It was _shame._ He could see it clearly now. There seemed to be some amount of shame in this disclosure for her and she pulled her hand back from his arm, fiddling with her fingers as she stared down and away from his questioning stare.

He remembered she _had_ said she had a son, but this boy was far too … _pale_? However, people _here_ can assume _any_ form they wish, can they not? “Are you certain? He does not … _look like you_.” He pointed out.

Her nervousness spread to her stance as she shuffled her feet and began to kick the ground beneath her. “His father was _not_ an Iroquois.”

Quintus looked back, staring through the trees in the direction of the boy as only the very top of the youth’s head was visible now, bobbing up and down as he frolicked about the greenery. “He is …” Should he even say it? He shrugged dramatically as he realized he did not care if it would be upsetting or not. “ _Quite mad._ ”

Taking offense to his words immediately, she looked up as her brows furrowed deeply. “ _He is not mad!_ ” Her defensiveness was quite obviously that _of a mother_. “He is … “

“Is he … Autistic?” He asked. Was this what she was ashamed of?

“No. **_No_**. It is nothing like _that_. He is …” She hesitated again as he could see her considering the right word to use. “He is … _sick_.” 

“ _Sick_? Even _here_?” The concept seemed to elude Quintus as he furrowed his nose at the sad prophet. “How can an illness follow one beyond the grave?”

“Some illnesses can.” She wrapped her arm through his as she pulled him along affectionately and he complied, allowing her to guide him away.

“But how is that possible? There is no longer a Qliphoth to house–”

Hathų interrupted softly. “Some illnesses can affect the very _soul_ itself, Quintus.” Her tone told him that she was bordering on the edge of intense emotion and he nodded, deciding to drop the subject _for now_ and he allowed her to usher him back to the inner parts of Heaven.

“So, is this the land of your people?” He asked inquisitively, looking around at the deserted nature as they passed through it.

“No. It is not.” She said calmly, offering nothing more and he was motivated to press further. She normally _loved_ to teach him things about this place.

“Then what is this place?” He asked and her grip on his arm tightened. “I have not seen it before.”

“I am sure you have not seen _many places in Heaven yet_.” She giggled, seeming to think about some inside joke, but he pressed on with his previous questioning. He would not be deterred.

“If it is not the land of your people, then how is it your son is here?” He asked again.

“He …” That telling pause again. “He made it …” She said gently. “For _himself_.”

“He _made_ it?” Quintus was intrigued by this thought. “I thought only _The Shapers_ can create new parts of Heaven?” Apparently he had misunderstood something and she shook her head.

“No. Not so. _The Shapers_ are very good at it. It is why they were created. It takes considerable practice and most souls are not possible of such incredible …” That pause again, as she considered whether to speak the next word or not. “Creativity. My son’s mind is very … _unique_.”

“Is this why he knows _Latin?_ ” Quintus asked and his question seemed to confuse Hathų a bit as she glanced back and scrunched her nose.

“No … I am unsure where he could have learned that.” She shrugged it off. “Perhaps when he was alive …”

“You are _unsure_?” Confused by her confusion, he inquired further. “He is quite young, would you not know if he learned it–”

“No. Do not let his appearance fool you, Quintus.” She frowned delicately as she spoke. “He lived a _very, very long_ and hard life. He was very old when he finally died. How he looks _now_ is simply how he chooses to look.”

“He wishes to be a child instead of a man?”

“Yes.” She sighed as she nodded. “I think that _this_ time of his life, he was at his happiest.”

“I see.” He internalized her statement and accepted it. He would have pried further, but he also wished to rebuild his previous friendly rapport with her. He would get nothing useful from her if she felt the need to be defensive towards him. “So, prophet. Where _is_ the land of _your people_ then?”

“ _My_ people …” Her voice trailed a bit. Was this _more_ sadness? Had he managed to step into _another_ touchy subject? “… have _mostly_ chosen to return to _Earth_.”

“Returned? To be reborn?” She had shown him the line to enter the chamber of rebirth, but she had said it was at the cost of _everything_ that one was. An entire reset, of sorts.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “When it was realized that _The Great Spirit_ was no longer _here_ , it was assumed that it returned to _Earth_ and my people opted to go in search of it _there_ rather than stay _here_.”

“And yet _you_ are here. You chose to stay?”

“It was my duty to see to the next _Ishim_ and … “ She glanced back towards the meadow. “And … there are _many reasons_ for me to stay here. I will not leave him.”

Quintus paused their stroll and looked down upon her expressive brown eyes and stared at her lovely eyes. He realized he quite enjoyed being around Hathų, _even_ after her attempted manipulation and as he stared at her overly thick lashes again, he knew it was because she reminded him of _Dawn_. “It seems you lead a fairly _lonely_ life here, princess.”

Her smile was simple and he could hear a hint of something deceptive hidden behind her next words. “I make due, General. Do not worry for me, I make due _very well._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> #### The Traveler
> 
> ##### Amazing Commission by [@needlesslycryptic](https://tmblr.co/m7WPf5-rfdnWn8efhFpbYPQ)
> 
> Notice the Purple Divinity. ಠ◡ಠ


	32. 4.5 - Knowledge

He knocked once and waited, leaning up against the frame as he placed his head close to the wood surface of the door, listening to the movements ensuing within. He could have just put himself directly within the apartment, but that would have been pretty rude and he didn’t want to _interrupt_ what they had been doing when he first looked in on them. Considering what he was about to ask of his old friend, he needed to approach this _delicately_ , to say the very least.

If it hadn’t been for his preternatural hearing, he wouldn’t have heard the hushed whispers inside the apartment’s bedroom and he wouldn’t have heard the shuffling of two pairs of hurried feet across the concrete floor. He _most_ definitely wouldn’t have heard someone open the closet and step within. As he tapped his spotted fingers on the door, he patiently waited for the woman to crack the entrance open, leaving the chain on as she squinted at him through the sliver of an opening.

He could see the salt and pepper of her long raven black hair covering half of her dark-skinned face as she looked at him with her dark brown, investigative eyes.

“Yes? Can I help you?” She asked and Michael smiled at her. He had already heard her cocking the gun as she walked towards the door and he’d even heard her gently push the nuzzle of the barrel quietly against the wood on the other side a second before she opened the door to greet him.

“Hi, Barb.” He smirked at her, trying his hardest to be pleasant. “I’m here to see _Frank_.” That was the _name_ his old friend was going by right now and she looked at him accusingly, with growing concern.

“Sorry.” She lied. “Frank’s not here right now. What can I do ya for?”

“Hmmm.” Michael shifted his stance, staring down to the older woman as he tilted his head to the left. “How about Barqan then? Is _he_ here?” When her eyes widened, he placed a hand on the frame, squeezing it, the wood creaked and began to buckle under his grip. His hand was not far from the chain and her eyes fluttered to it, understanding his threat easily. He could just push it through, but there was no need for _any violence_. These were _friends_.

“That is … if you can coax him out of the closet.” He chuckled lowly and then tapped the spot on the door, exactly where she held the gun on the other side as he grinned wider. “And I’d _really_ prefer it if you didn’t try to _shoot_ me. That wouldn’t end very well for you, _child_.”

This statement shocked her and she paused for a brief moment as she sized him up before he heard her lower the weapon on the other side, conceding to his request as his words sunk in. “Alright then. Who should I say is _calling_?”

Michael grinned even wider, showing her his overdeveloped canines and he raised an eyebrow, answering with a name that caused the women to hold her breath for a moment as her mouth dropped agape.

**_“Tell him it’s Hinon_.“**

* * *

 

Dutch’s phone chirped and as she fumbled it out of her pocket, she looked at the text message on the screen, even though from the chime alone, she _already_ knew what it would say. As she leapt up from the dinner table, Fet furrowed his brows as he watched his wife bolt from the room in a full sprint.

"Dutch?!?” He called, swinging around to see that she was completely gone and her meal only half eaten. “What is it?!?” He screamed out to her, receiving no response. Assuming it to be some lady issue, he went back to shoveling the cheesy taco into his mouth before she reappeared at the door, her face painted with awe.

“Come on, love! Come! Have a look!” She waved at him aggressively to follow her and he begrudgingly left his plate as he wadded up his napkin, dropping it onto the table next to his plate.

“But da food’s gonna get cold! And … I love Taco Tuesday.” He complained as he turned to face her, but the large grin on her face won the argument and she pulled him down the hallway and into her office, pushing him in front of her to sit down in her desk chair.

“You see that! SEE!” Pointing frantically to the map on the screen, she nodded to herself as she gripped his large shoulder in her hand. “I knew it! I bloody KNEW IT!”

“Yup. Look at dat.” Fet shrugged. “It’s a circle.”

“No … um … actually, it’s an ellipse … but, check it out …” Reaching over him, she jiggled the mouse, maximizing a window behind the digital map and he stared, confused at the bouncing lines across the screen as she clicked on a ‘play’ icon.

“Ok.” He stared at the lines in silence for a few seconds. “Uh … _Neat_?”

“Ugh. Don’t you recognize it?!” She spun the chair around so that he was facing her and his wide eyes answered her question without words. “It’s _her_ , love. _That’s Dawn._ ”

Fet’s mouth fell open as he twisted back around and clicked on the map again. “Are you sure? I mean, dat’s–”

“It’s the exact same signal. Same peaks, same content, same _fucking_ frequencies.” She clapped her hands loudly, very pleased with her own findings. “Hot damn. It’s the _same damn signal_. It’s just … um …” She clicked back to the waterfall graph and her smile faded a little bit. “It’s just … well … ten times _stronger_ than it was before, but … nonetheless … I’m _positive_ it was her.”

“Was?” Fet asked, squinting at the graph. “What do you mean _was_?”

“Well … I’ve been continuously scanning for it for a while. It was _never_ constant, but something big happened and it popped up.” She slapped him on the shoulder as she leaned over, tapping the screen on the white ellipse. “It’s her. I’m sure of it. But … ” Dutch cleared her throat carefully and Fet turned to look at his concerned wife’s face.

“But what?” He pressed.

“Well …” She sighed. “ _This_ particular signal only occurred when …” There was a pause as she considered her words carefully. “When she was near the _Master_ , love.”

Turning back to the screen, Fet cleared his own throat carefully as the reality of what she was trying to imply sunk in. “But … what does dat even mean? You sayin’ da _Master_ ’s still alive? No, I don’t believ–”

“No. I don’t think he could have survived the hell that Q wrought down on him on that day but …” She bit her lip as she took a sharp breath in. “ _Do you remember what Q said?_ That last morning?” She waited for Fet to remember and answer, and when he didn’t immediately, she spoke quickly, concern mounting in her tone. “That there were _other Ancients_ coming … More like _his father_?” As the words escaped her lips, goosebumps riddled their arms and she heard Fet breathe out dramatically as he recalled and recited Q’s words _exactly_.

“Yeah … _Except far more powerful and far more ruthless …_ ”

“Exactly.” They both stared in silence at the screen, struggling to internalize what it might actually mean.

“We shouldn’t jump ta any conclusions, yeah?” He shook his head, denying her words. “One thing at a time, k?” Dutch nodded meekly. “So, right now … _Where is she_?” He asked as he attempted to move the mouse to zoom out and get a better idea of where the map was centered.

“ _Downtown Philadelphia._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Giving herself up to EL was very different than surrendering to Hathų. When the native woman had stepped forward, she had _only_ taken control of her voice and her arms. It was _not intrusive_ , but rather timid and careful. If she would have described it succinctly using a single word, it had been _polite_.

Hathų had kept her own mind distant from Dawn and because of that she had retained control. When EL stepped forward, it was as if their minds had _interlaced_ and he was in absolute control of her. As disturbing as it was, it felt like putting on an old glove and she realized that _everything_ he had said to her, about always being around, about speaking with her, about being _Mrs. Weaver_ … was **_truth_**.

But, because of this _mental interlacing_ , it worked _both_ directions. She could immediately read his most open thoughts clearly and the obvious intentions that rippled along his conscious mind as he began to pummel the Nazi savagely. His intention was **_to kill him_**.

 

> _What are you doing?!?_ She had asked and he had ignored her, just hitting him again instead.

No. This wasn’t the plan … was it? He was going to just _kill_ him?! What about the _Lumen_? What about _Heaven?!_

“ ** _Hello Thomas_**.” He purred through her delicate vocal cords and another strike landed on the Shiny Man’s jaw sending him crumpling to the ground as his bone cracked under the force of their shared might. She could hear a menacing and low vibration carried along with her voice as he controlled it. It was almost an electrical crackle.

 

> _Stop._

She commanded and she tried to reach out for control.

 

> _Don’t do that_.

She demanded and he ignored again, reaching down for the man and she felt the thought arc cross the archangel’s mind. He was going to rip the strigoi’s head completely off. She tried to push EL out of the way but he remained in place. **_Solid_**.

“We’re actually hoping we can _all_ be useful to _each other_.”

“How so, _My Lord?_ ” The Shiny Man had asked desperately and she felt her own desperation climaxing. He would be dead in seconds and suddenly, instead of pushing EL away, she forced herself _into_ him farther, burrowing beyond just the _surface_ of his mind. It was an uncomfortable thing and she felt as if it was a vicious violation, but she heard whispers of voices echoing everywhere. Some were his voice but most were _others_ and then entire memories started to leak through.

Someone else, she had never heard before, calm and gentle. Delicate and soothing.

 

> _“You don’t need to do this, Brother. I can still help you. Please, little one … _“ The voice pled, laced with more need and sadness than she had _ever_ heard before. Even after all of her own nights of sorrow and grief, _this_ man’s melancholy surpassed all that she’d _ever_ heard. “_ You aren’t alone. You’ve_ **_never_** _been alone.”_

_Those words … those_ **_fucking_** _words. How often had she heard_ **_those words_** _?_

Underneath her soul, she felt EL tense at the memory as it reverberated through their shared subconscious. Something about _this_ instant caused him discomfort and she felt him shove the recollection away and as it faded quickly, she reached out for the very next instance lingering in his mind. Another voice came forward, its tone was heavy, angry, frantic, and riddled with its own special agony.

 

> _“I won’t do it! Do not make me do this! BROTHER!”_

Another light and feminine tone screamed back and the volume of it was deafening and she felt EL cringe again at the resurfacing of another memory.

 

> _“There is no choice!”_ It begged in the darkness … _she begged._ _“The Nexus must be preserved … at any cost …”_

A second longer and the Shiny Man would be missing his head. She could _sense_ her arms beginning to flex as she reached for the Nazi’s temple and she pushed further one more time as she felt EL’s discomfort increase substantially. She was intruding into him the same as he did to her and the next words that leaked out were **_his_**.

 

> _“She wasn’t made for_ **_you_** , _you little shit._ ” He hissed with an anger so loud it flooded everything around her. “ ** _She was made for me._** ”

“How so, _My Lord?_ ” The Nazi asked, staring up as EL stepped back instantly, thrusting her completely out of his mind as quickly as he could and she was back in full control.

 

> _“Well,_ **_that_** _was rude_.” The archangel said from the side, standing beside the broken strigoi as he shook his head at her. “I wasn’t going to hurt him _… much._ ”

 

* * *

 

Barb opened the door and he stepped through, resting his staff on the wall next to the exit. It made him nervous to have it so close when he needed to discuss more _sensitive_ matters. Raphael’s exact control over the item had always been _confusing_.

Though his purple-eyed younger brother claimed he’d given up all claim of it, Michael would often still _feel_ _The Traveler’s_ divinity surging through the thing each and every time he used it. Where Michael’s divinity was golden and smelled of angelica, Raphael’s had a distinctive blue hue and it carried the scent _and_ taste of eucalyptus.

Cringing at the taste left in his mouth from traveling _just this far_ with it, he opted to leave it there as he entered the living area, taking a seat on the couch as he listened to the Iroquoian woman talking to her _Djinn_ , coaxing him out of his hiding place.

 _“Hinon? Don’t be ridiculous, woman. There is no way he would be–”_ As Barqan rounded the corner of the bedroom, locking eyes with the archangel, his sentence fell short. “Michael.” The Black King stopped in his tracks as Barb came up behind him and he waved her off. “Leave us. Take a walk, _please_.” He asked of the woman and though she seemed nervous about it.

“I need a smoke anyways. It was nice to meet you, _Thunderer_.” She nodded towards the archangel as she complied without argument, grabbing her coat. Before she made it out, she turned back to look at Michael carefully before she left. “You know. I always thought you’d be taller.”

“What is it?” Barqan queried. “Why are you here? What has happened?”

“I come with a request, _old friend_.” Michael leaned forward. “I …” His words trailed off as his eyes floated down to the ground, attempting to discern and isolate the feeling that had just begun to _well_ within the pit of his stomach as nausea swept across him. It had been a number of years since he’d felt _anything_ like this and his skin flushed with color as he felt something … _pulling from him._

Though it was not nearly as intense, it was the _same_ overall sensation, just as it had been _that night_ nearly thirty years ago, when he’d felt the agony of Dawn’s divinity being _sucked_ away from her … while he _pulled_ it from her.

Barqan tilted his head to the right and looked at the strange expression gracing Michael’s frozen face. It was one he’d _never_ seen on _any_ archangel’s face before and he immediately pressed. “What is wrong?”

The Governor had no words as he flinched at the gravity of the feeling. He felt as if he was being _torn_ in half, nearly incapable of taking a full breath before the vertigo of the feeling ceased all at once. Taking a deep breath in, he looked up into the worried Djinn’s face and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“That was _most definitely_ not nothing, Michael.” Barqan told him.

“Regardless … I am here to discuss something …” He looked back towards the staff and considered checking on his progeny, but when the Black King pressed again, the archangel decided to keep to the task at hand.

“Michael, what was tha–”

“I need a child from your fallen brethren.” Quickly and succinctly, he demanded as he locked eyes with the horrified Djinn.

“What?” Barqan coughed. “What do you mean _you need a child_?” The Black King gulped. “For what purpose?”

“I’m sorry, old friend. But, there _must_ be a reckoning.” He said simply. “Gabriel demands the right to extinguish the … _newly sparked abomination_.”

“Newly sparked Abomination? No, that is not possible. None of our children have _sparked_. We prevent that.” Barqan’s eyes grew wide. “Wait … _it was your child_ , wasn’t it? The little woman from–”

“It makes no difference _who’s_ child it was, Black King.” Michael sighed dramatically. “This is sadly not up for debate–”

Barqan interrupted. “And what … kind of reckoning?! Extinguish?! Why do you–”

Michael halted his companion’s desperate argument, repeating his last sentence again with more force. “This is _not_ up for debate. Either you provide a child to me, or I will _find_ one. Now that I know they are here, do you think you can stop me?”

Barqan stared at him in silent horror.

 

* * *

 

 

EL trailed behind both of them closely. Thomas walked ahead and she kept no less than five feet between them as he guided her through Downtown Philadelphia quickly, away from the deserted commercial real estate and into the industrial area. While he _could_ try to run again, the archangel was certain he wouldn’t. From all the stories that he’d heard from hell. From all the people that he’d _sent_ EL’s way, he knew _this_ man had always been a coward and it was _very_ clear that he wouldn’t get far.

“You hid it out here?” She questioned and he nodded his head.

“Do you think I should have kept it in my hotel room safe, little one?” EL _knew_ how much she hated Thomas calling her that and he could feel as her body tensed with growing annoyance, but she said nothing, as usual. She had always been _too quiet,_ in his opinion. If it was him, he would have _demanded_ respect from this _pathetic creature_ through pain.

If he was in a better mood, he might have even urged her to _force the bastard_ not to use the _nickname_ anymore, but he walked silently, considering everything that had just happened very carefully.

He _had_ control and for the first time since he fell, he was _here_ , in physical form … on Earth. Through her body, he felt humanity and life all around him again. Through her body, he felt _connected_ again. Through her body, he felt _whole_. He could have tried to hold on, fought her for command over the powerful shell, but he pulled back for _three reasons_ and he mulled these over while they walked, because all three were all equally concerning to him.

 ** _First_**.

If he had held on, he would have lost her trust entirely and _this_ frightened him. Not that it would happen, but that he somehow _cared_ how she would feel about it. Satan’s previous statements resonated in his mind now and he sneered at the thought of the demon’s words having volition.

He _knew_ what his goal was, right? Yes. Of course he did … the goal was to get _out_ of his self-imposed prison. But if that was the truth, had he not just had the opportunity? No, he told himself, there was no way of knowing if she could have ousted him or not given enough motivation. No, he urged himself, he needed to _play it safe_. He had no idea how much power she could actually draw upon and he needed her to relinquish control to him _indefinitely_.

 ** _Second_**.

He drew himself back after he heard those words ricochet within his mind. She had pulled memories out of him, and as painful as those were to revisit, he had shrugged it off. But the next words that she played in his inquisitive mind concerned him the most. Yes, it was _his voice_ , but he was quite certain he’d _never_ uttered _those words_ before.

 

> _“She wasn’t made for_ **_you_** , _you little shit_. _She was made_ **_for me_**.”

The day she was born, he _knew_ she was quite different than all of her predecessors. Beyond just her disease, he _knew_ she was different in a _very, very_ important way. She was _Demiarc_ , as all of her forefathers had been. But she was _also_ a _prophet_. _She_ could also see the future and he knew he’d never uttered those words before and now he also _knew_ that one day he would.

“This way, my dear.” Thomas ushered them into an empty factory.

**_And, most importantly, third._ **

While he was at the helm, he _felt_ the _Nexus_ again … all around him. Surging and chittering and humming and … he was _home_. It was intoxicating and she hadn’t learned how to hear it quite yet.

At the same time, this confused him because he _knew_ his brother had closed it off from _Earth_ as well as _Hell_ as much as he could and in that fragile and tender moment when he was reaching down to rip the Nazi’s head off, he felt the subtlest of changes begin. He felt that fucking _purple bastard_ opening up again and he ripped himself back as quickly as he could, nearly stumbling all the way back into Hell. This would complicate things greatly and he spoke for the first time in several minutes.

“We need to hurry up.” He rushed. Something was _changing_ and it was now more important than ever to get to the _Lumen_.

She was obviously displeased with him but the nervousness in his voice was clear and rather than afford him _any_ kind of attention, she questioned Thomas instead. “How much further?”

“We are almost there, my dear.” He assured her in his thick german accent. “Patience, mein kleiner stern.”

 

* * *

 

She noticed Fet standing idly at the door while she threw clothes into her bag. When he made no movement, she eventually swung around to see _what the hell he was doing_ and she saw the _guiltiest_ look she’d ever seen on her husband’s face to date.

“What is it, love?” She swung back around and went for her underwear drawer next. “We don’t have time for this. You should be packing already. We don’t know how long she’ll be there.” She looked down at her folded undies and grabbed a handful without counting, shrugging in her mind. _Yup, I’m sure that’ll be enough_.

“Uh …Dutch?” He hesitated from the door again and she turned to face him, his hands fiddling with a stack of papers as he gave her the most _fake_ smile as puppy-like innocent washed over him. “I gotta confession ta make.”

The seriousness of the moment sunk in and she turned to face him fully, stopping all movement. Terrible scenarios raced through her mind as her subconscious lurched forward, grasping at straws over what he might suddenly confess to her. Her heart sank with regret.

“What?” This was the _only_ word that she could manage and he shuffled forward carefully, waving the papers towards her but she found herself unable to move. “What … what is _that_?”

“Uh …” He looked down and the guilt spread even further. “I kept dis from you. I …” He sighed heavily. “I kept dis _from her too_. At first, I just … I thought it was crazy, ya know?”

“What are they, Vasily?” She rarely used his first name and he finally walked over and shoved the papers into her hands. As she looked down, she recognized the scribbles on the pages as the Professor’s handwriting. “These are the Professor’s notes?”

“Yeah.” He stroked his beard nervously. “Dey were in Q’s bag. I … I kept them from you. I’m sorry.”

Dutch smiled as relief washed over her. She was very nearly certain he was about to confess some love between him and the maid, but this was _fine_. This was _no big deal_ , right? “No worries, eh? It’s just Abe’s old notes, yeah? It doesn’t matter.”

“Uh …” Fet struggled again as he looked down at the worn papers. “Yeah, but … you should read dem.”

“Why bother?” Her eyebrows raised significantly. “It’s just pointless shit from the _Lumen_ , right? There wasn’t a _damn thing_ in that _bloody book_ that helped us out in the end.”

“But da Professor’s notes …” He pointed again at the pages she wrestled within her grasp. “He believed it. And he was usually right …”

“Believed what, love?” My god, this was like pulling teeth. The big man usually wasn’t this hesitant with anything. He was normally _extremely_ straightforward. “Come on, we _really_ gotta get going.”

“How familiar are you with da Bible?”

 

* * *

 

The area was deserted and it reminded her distinctly of _her_ factory, having been left in a rush as well. She could smell _death_ emanating from all around them and as he led her into the bowels of the building, it was only getting stronger. Eventually, the smell of the decaying flesh overwhelmed his repugnant stench of ammonia that had almost made her gag blocks earlier.

“Don’t try anything with me.” She warned and he giggled, dismissing her threatening tone.

“But why would I try _a thing_? I find _your offer most enticing_.” They came to a door and he produced a key from a chain around his neck. As the lock clicked, he opened it wide to reveal a staircase within. Stepping back, he waved a hand downwards, offering her entrance first but she stared at him with squinted eyes.

“You first.” She spat.

“Very well. Here.” He handed her the key on the chain. “Please lock the door behind you.” At first she hesitated as old fear began to brew within her chest, her heart beginning to race as she remembered all those cold nights in the German’s “company”. It wasn’t until she heard EL’s voice from behind that she snapped back into reality.

 

> “He can’t hurt you anymore.” He assured her. “Even without my help, you’re more than he can manage now.” His voice was calming. “You’re more than _most_ can manage.”

Shuffling down the steps ahead of her, she heard Thomas call out from below and she finally complied, stepping through and pulling the door shut, locking it and putting the chain around her own neck before proceeding downwards. At least this way, he wasn’t going to be able to run or lock her in.

As she breached the room below, she could see that he had been living there for quite some time and it was not entirely unlike her own safe room, in _her factory_.

He was messing with the bricks in the far wall, pulling them out and stacking them into a careful pile on the ground. Working quickly, he edged them out one at a time and she stood behind him, waiting and watching.

“Why didn’t you die with _it_?” She finally asked as she crossed her arms over her breasts. “How did you survive the bomb?”

“I could ask you the same.” He chuckled as he turned around, seeing that his _joke_ was ill-timed, he went back to dislodging the stones from the wall. “It was very fortuitous. I was …” He paused briefly. “Away at the time …”

“I thought you _never_ left your precious _Master’s_ side …” She might have pressed the issue further as it was obvious Thomas was keeping something to himself, but EL walked into view, passing her on the right as he looked into the hole that the Shiny Man was creating in the thick wall.

“It was not my choice to be away.” He stated as he worked diligently.

 

> “He tasted you.” EL sneered towards the minion as he explained, never moving his eyes from the dark vacant space as he was eager to see what was within. “He was _forsaken_ by his _Master._ Your blood freed him from _its control_.” The archangel chuckled, as this gave him some degree of pleasure. “ _Quite simply …_ **_He fell from strigoi grace._** ”

“What do you mean? He isn’t like the others anymore?” She asked, finally acknowledging EL again and Thomas spun around, seemingly confused for a moment as he assumed she was speaking to him.

“How could you know that …” He questioned, but his words trailed off as she answered with a simple raised eyebrow. “He has told you this, hasn’t he?” Thomas looked around the room quickly, becoming nervous before returning to his act of tearing down the wall. “ _He is here_ , isn’t he?”

 

> “Tell him to hurry.” EL pressed again. She had never seen him so nervous. “You should have let me _kill him_. This would have been much _faster if–_ ”

“Faster?!” She questioned swiftly, interrupting his sentence mid-flow as her arms dramatically fell to her sides with anger and she stepped forward toward the archangel. “ _Kill him?!_ How would _that_ have helped _anything_?! I’m not physic! We would have _never_ found this place!”

Thomas spun around, concerned by the content of her words, but he returned to the task at hand without uttering anything in reply while the single-sided argument ensued behind him.

EL smiled wickedly and she felt the goosebump rise across her spotted flesh as he stepped forward to her, closing all gap between them while he looked down, tilting her chin up towards him so that she could see directly into his rainbow irises.

 

> “You still need to learn to _trust_ me. Think about it carefully, Aurora.” She _hated_ when he talked down to her. “If that monstrosity died.” He purred. “Where exactly do you think his soul would _go_?”

As the clever realization spread across her face, her furrowed brows relaxed fully and her mouth opened slightly causing his smile to widen further.

 

> “I could have ripped the answer out of his soul with my bare hands.” She tried to step back, but his grip flew to her shoulders, holding her in place as he continued. “And I would have been able to _pay him back_ for every … single … ounce of blood he whipped out of you.”

“I would offer you to join me, but there really isn’t much room, my dear.” Thomas chortled as he crawled and wiggled his way into the hole that he had made in the wall, just big enough for a body. “I will be back. One moment, please.”

Staring up into his rainbow eyes, she shook her head. “You should have told me your plan.”

 

> “I didn’t think–”

“And here it is!” Thomas screamed from behind the wall, shoving a burlap sack out and waving it at her dramatically to retrieve it from his grasp. “Please.”

As she took the sack, she stood back and allowed the strigoi to crawl out while she pulled the material away to undercover the silver book within. It was _just_ as she remembered it. The look, the smell, _and_ the feeling. Even now, in her hands, she could _feel_ the vibrations that pulsed through it. All those times, the Professor sitting on the table, with it cracked open and Quintus sitting next to him as they peered within and she had kept her distance. She began to crack open the book and EL spoke abruptly.

 

> “There’s no time for that yet. Get to the roof.” He rushed again. “ _Now_.”

“What?” She looked up as Thomas finished pulling himself out of the wall, standing beside her as he brushed the debris from his suit. “No time for what?”

EL cocked his head to the right in annoyance and sighed, tapping his watchless right wrist to express the need for growing urgency.

 _Fuck it. Fine_. She wasn’t sure what _exactly_ the point was. It wasn’t daytime, and there was _no way_ she could see the Sun Pages right now. That was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? Something was hidden in the text which was somehow important to EL. He’d been less than forthcoming with the specifics.

As she demanded roof access, she allowed Thomas to lead the way and as soon as they hit the rooftop, she could see the archangel standing near the far ledge with his back to her, looking out at the distant horizon as the moon loomed close to it.

 

> “ _Here_.” He patted the roof side and she set the Lumen down on the lip of the building, collapsing onto her knees in front of it. “Come on. Open it. The first third are the _Sun Pages_.”

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry all the sudden.” She questioned as the book creaked open and Thomas watched silently from behind. “There isn’t any _sun_.”

 

> “I know … We’ve only got minutes left. The back third. _Hurry_.”

He rushed, pointing to the pages and as she turned the book to somewhere in the last third of it, she watched with wide eyes as the page within started to illuminate with silver arabic letterings, completely overcoming the inked words, as the light from the moon absorbed into it.

“What is that?!” Thomas asked from behind, peering over her shoulder and she looked up at EL, who was now smiling.

 

 

> “ _The Moon Pages_. The story of the _Fallen Djinn._ ” He waved his hand over the book quickly, urging her to flick the page to the next. “Next.” She flicked. “Next.” She flicked again. “Keep going.”

When he saw the page he wanted, he nodded and laughed, looking back to the horizon quickly before pointing to a symbol in the middle of it. Most of the other pages had been covered with lengthy text, but this one was just riddled with ten symbols and a chill ran over her skin as the swirls and delicate curves of them reminded her of her own _mark_.

 

> “That one.” He pointed down to her boot. “Your knife. Get it. Quickly.”

“My knife?” She questioned as she retrieved the bowie knife from its leather cradle, hidden in the ankle holster underneath her pant leg. “What the fuck for?”

EL turned to Thomas, who was still staring down wide-eyed at the discovery and he smiled.

 

> _“I guess he’ll be useful after all.”_

Standing, she turned to face Thomas with the knife drawn in her hand and the German’s eyes only grew larger as he took a step back, interpreting her action as possibly hostile. “I already told you I’m not going to _kill him_.” She said towards the angel and she heard EL laugh. He was clearly in a better mood now.

 

> “No, _silly bean_. Give him the knife. You need carve _that_ into your skin. _And hurry_. The text will gone when the moon sets. And we can’t wait another day.”

“Wait _what_?” Dawn gasped as she turned to her raven-haired companion. “Into my … _my skin?_ ”

 

> “Yup. Unfortunately, it’s only temporary. You’ll heal _very_ quickly. We’ll have to get you a more … _permanent solution_ , but for now …” He pointed to the knife. “Hurry.”

“Why?” She questioned. “Why all the rush now?”

 

> “Because … _they can see you_.”

“What is it?” Looking down at the symbol, she was desperate to know, but EL grew frustrated at the hesitation as he tried to rush her along. “What does it do?”

 

> “It is **_Obfuscation_**. It will keep you _hidden_ from _all_ prying eyes. Please. I promise _all answers to_ **_any questions_** , but right now, my Golden Dawn. Time’s short.”

“Ok.” She thrust the knife’s handle toward Thomas as she lifted up her sleeve, exposing the top of her arm to him. “Cut it into me.” As she turned back to the book, pointed.

“Cut it _into you?_ ” Thomas gulped at the command, “Are you certain, _Fräulein_?”

“Yes. Do it.” She sighed at his hesitation. “You didn’t have a problem with hurting me before.” As he brought the knife up, she closed her eyes and the metal cut into her skin. _Fuck, she hated knives_. She felt herself flinch at the sensation but she calmed her body as she heard her _dhampir’s_ voice cut through and dull the increasing pain:

 

> **_“I was drawn to the warrior that you so obviously are.”_ **

 

* * *

 

“No. You cannot ask this of me.” Barqan stood and walked to the window as anger overcame him. “Why did you not just _burn_ the divinity from her when she was born like all the others?!” Barqan spat. “How could you have allowed her to _spark_ to begin with?!”

“If you wish to blame anyone, then blame the _Prince of Snakes_ , of whom you are so very fond.” Michael sneered.

“It is unlike you, Golden One to deflect _blame_? It is unlike you to be so cowar–”

“Careful, _Djinn_. Don’t assume that _mine and my children_ haven’t suffered and don’t _continue to_ suffer … _everyday_.” Michael stood slowly as he warned. “I don’t do this out of cowardice _or love_. I’m offering you this choice out of _practicality_.”

Barqan laughed as he spun to face the golden-haired angel. “ _Practicality, brother_? Is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night?” Michael smirked at the statement, as they both knew neither of them slept.

“If we do not provide one to my brother … if _my progeny_ is found out, then I _fall_. If _I fall_ , Black King …” He watched as Barqan’s defensive stance began to relax. “Then there will be _no one_ protecting your kind here.”

“They have survived for millenia without your great protection, _My Governor._ ” The Djinn returned to the couch and Michael could already see that _practicality_ was prevailing in the Black King’s mind, even if his words had yet to convey it fully.

“Perhaps so.” Michael agreed. “But if I _fall_ , there’s no doubt in my mind that _The Traveler_ and _The Messenger_ will rip all of the secrets from my mind.” Michael looked down on the seated man as the Black King put his hand up to his head in defeat. “And with the _Staff and Trumpet_ back in their employ, there’s no where on Earth _or_ Heaven for you and your kind to hide.”

Barqan stared quietly at the table as he considered this most _impossible_ decision, sighing as sadness overcame him. “You cannot ask me to do this …” He looked up into the powerful green irises as tears welled up in his black eyes. “After what I told you about _Sathariel_ … how can you ask this of me?”

“It’s because of _Sathariel_ that I know I must.” Michael said coldly before he turned and started to walk back towards the door to retrieve the staff. “Chose, Barqan. _A single child or_ **_all of your children_**.”

As he reached for the silver instrument, preparing himself to for the journey back to Heaven, he reached out to check on Dawn, knowing there was only a single person in existence who could possibly have made him feel as he did on the couch. Extending himself, Michael gasped, loud enough for Barqan to take note, looking up from his sadness.

“What is it now?” He stood as he saw another surprised look encompass Michael’s face.

“I …” The archangel trailed off as he reach out again and still, it was the same result. _Nothing_.

“What is it, Michael?!” Barqan stammered again and the Governor looked up, finally meeting his friends eyes as his desperation was beginning to boil.

“I can’t see her … Barqan. I can’t … ” Michael was nearly at a loss for breath as he choked the words out. **_“She’s … gone.”_**

**_Oh fuck._ **


	33. 4.6 - Knowledge

He felt her pulling at his mind again, tugging gently as she called out to him. _This time_ he relented to her invitation. Leaving the nervous prophet behind, he went in search of _Ancharia_ , the woman he had _once_ called _Mother_. Much like the way he had discovered the Iroquois in her _secret_ place, he allowed the power that surrounded and surged through him to be his guide to who he wanted to find. Simply _willing_ the desire, he was led in one direction and then another.

He assumed he had seen most of Heaven, but as he walked, he realized that was a foolish assumption indeed. There were likely no limits to the stretches of this place, even though it had boundaries, the contents within seemed to give away to more and more space.

Eventually he came upon a sprawling urban area that seemed more or less modern, though he knew it was at least a few decades behind the current time on Earth. Masking himself with his human facade, he walked the concrete sidewalk and watched the people around him. They were _different_ here. They were far more _lively_ and … at first it was hard for him to put his finger on it, but as he got closer to the source of the pull, he realized the people here were much less _peaceful_ , or rather, much less _restrained_.

> _Whisper in tongues_
> 
> _Hit me with your hands_
> 
> _Double knot my throat, mother_
> 
> _In words I lose_
> 
> _Don’t be mad_
> 
> _Advocating every second, every minute_
> 
> _To my mind it’s so sweet_
> 
> _And I wish you could see it_
> 
> _I’ll be home soon_

They screamed, they laughed, they _kissed_. They even fondled each other in the streets and he was reminded of cities that he’d visited in the past that were filled with similar debauchery, specifically the seedy nightlife of Rome. That dark and often whispered societal underground to which he was both guest as well as slave to.

The farther he walked into the center of _whatever_ this place was, the darker the sky grew until it was finally as black as night. He breathed a sigh of relief as he’d been in months and months of nothing but daylight and a distant part of him had longed to be a creature of dark again.

As the buildings became taller and taller, the music became louder and the density of people all around him became thicker. Turning down one of the busier streets, he was reminded of the Southern United States that he had visited in the earlier 20th century at the behest of the _Ancients_.

Specifically, this street was like the city of New Orleans and _very specifically_ Market Street. As he looked around, he slowly realized that this was actually _exactly_ what that was, although it was a bit more modern than the last time he had been privy to see it.

People were packed solid in the street and the festivities were in full swing. Pushing himself through the dense crowd, the people were far too preoccupied with their own joy that they never took note of him wedging himself between them and forcefully navigating through the crowd. He felt like he was almost at his destination when a familiar chill ran along his spine and he looked up quickly, into the top balcony of the three story building to his right.

He found familiar amber eyes glaring down at him. The gargantuan angel was seated at a small table with a handful of other figures. He had been laughing loudly until his eyes locked with Quintus’, and his smile faded instantly. Standing quickly, he approached the railing, grabbing it with tight fists as he continued to staring down at the dhampir with eyes of flame, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed.

Quintus froze, trying to determine whether he should proceed, but _both_ men shifted their attention to the mocha hand that calmly graced the massive archangel’s shoulder and as Gabriel turned to face his shorter purple-eyed sibling, Raphael locked onto Quintus’ eyes, simply nodding to him and smiling warmly, attempting to make the dhampir feel perfectly welcome.

It was far too loud for him to decipher what exactly was uttered between the two brothers, but Gabriel furrowed his nose menacingly before growling in his direction and finally returning to his seat at the table. Raphael smiled one last time before rejoining his brother at the table. Breathing heavily, Quintus continued on with his journey.

Soon, he found himself almost two blocks away from the brothers as he entered a bright, neon lit building, which he could only assume was a _brothel_ of some kind. He doubted his assumption for a moment. _A brothel in Heaven?_ He shrugged as he remembered:

> _“Everyone is entitled to their own version of Paradise.”_

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he reached for the handle of the entrance, doubting where he was going. _Why would Ancharia be_ **_here_** _of all places?_

His inner compass directed him inside and he complied. As he walked in he found people lining the hallways and the insides were a maze of corridors and rooms. A right here, a left there, he passed room after room and heard _various noises_ abound from within them. While he was all too familiar with this type of establishment, he was again shocked to see something so _seedy_ in _Heaven_ of all places. He felt the tug bring him to a closed door at the end of a long hallway lit with dark green light.

Dropping his human guise and listening for a moment at the door, he heard voices within and when he raised his hand to knock the door suddenly flew open. He found himself standing face to face staring down at an overly attractive man … _no_ … boy … no, _more likely man_. Hmm. Perhaps both? There was a brief look of surprise on the handsome face, but the man-boy smiled and stepped out and to the side, waving Quintus within.

“Pardon me. She is all yours.” _All his?_ He cringed at _that_ thought. She was … _his mother_. Now he regretted surrendering to her call, but he had come this far and as he stepped in, he cringed again when the reality of the situation fully sank in.

It was a darkly lit bedroom, and the woman seated at the make-up desk across the room, even if he could not see her young and striking face yet through the mirror as she stared down at her array of hair utensils, he _knew_ it was Ancharia. The tattoo on her back was completely visible through the all too-sheer robe pulled loosely around her young and slender body.

He remembered this mark inked on her withered and old skin from all those many years ago and he recollected the explanation she had given him when he inquired about it all that time ago. But now that explanation seemed _too_ simple.

> _“It was_ **_required_** _by my employer at the time._ ”

Though the mark was sharper and far more distinct now that it was on this vibrant and taut skin, it was still in the exact same location it had been before, stretching from shoulder blade to blade. The mark itself, nearly rectangular, reminded Quintus of those he saw in the _Lumen_ , but he knew it was not one that he’d seen on the Sun Pages. This, he would have remembered. Now that it was far more detailed, he could see the swirls and geometric shapes more clearly.

At the very center of this beautiful and looping shape, a serpent, arched in a perfect circle consuming its own tail. He didn’t remember seeing distinctive colors in it before, but now he could make out hues of amber, chartreuse, violet, and cyan fade out from the scales of the snake.

> _[Ouroboros](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FOuroboros&t=ZjQ5MjNmY2YwNzdiOWZmZTM2ZDk1ZDU5NDdmMjQ4ZTVhNGQ2ZTU2NCxGZEtQZUNieA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160394078603%2F46-knowledge&m=1)_.

Raphael’s words rattled around in his mind. The archangel had spoken them to Quintus in the carriage to the trial:

> **_“We’re all serpents here, Quintus.”_ **

_Indeed_. Everyone was a _snake_ , it seemed. Full of secrets and conspiracy. And yet something else seemed out of place suddenly, or else … something actually seemed _in place_. He felt the puzzle that drove his confusion shifting but he still didn’t grasp the gravity of it yet, but he filed away all of the details for use later.

“While I am quite flattered, I will not be taking anyone else for the time being, I am sorry.” She said as she picked up one of the silver brushes, finally looking through the mirror and seeing that it was him. “Quintus!” Jumping up, she turned quickly as she rushed to embrace him. Her obvious nudity through the sheer fabric caused him to wince at the contact and she pulled away, feeling his immediate discomfort. “I was not expecting you. I do _apologize_. Please make yourself comfortable while I put on something more …” She looked down at her body sheepishly. “ _Appropriate_.”

As she shuffled off into an adjoining room, most likely a closet of some kind, he looked around for a place to sit. He didn’t wish to sit on the _bed_ and the only other chair available was the one at her dresser, so he opted to just stand instead, his back entirely erect as he clasp his hands behind him in his standard soldierly fashion.

When she didn’t return immediately, he found himself fidgeting slightly with nervousness and he walked to the dresser, starting to poke at the hair instruments on its surface. Pulling back the chair, he considered sitting down but instead picked up a sheer scarf which hung lazily off the back of it. He stretched it out with his hands to regard the embroidered pattern on the outside of it stitched in metallic bronze thread.

It was a symbol language of some kind but it was one with which he was _unfamiliar_. As his eyes traced the glyphs stitched into the fabric, the symbols circled another _ouroboros_ and he heard her respond from behind as she finally exited the wardrobe, clothed properly now.

“Still so very curious, aren’t you?” The suddenness of her voice caused him to drop the scarf back onto its original resting place on the chair as he turned to her, smiling fakely. “You _always_ were. That’s what made you such a good student, Quintus. That’s what made you _the best_ student.”

Stepping back from her, he took his soldier’s stance again, but this time clasping his hands in front as he looked at her _thicker_ attire, appreciating the discretion that it was affording the … _awkward reunion_. He watched her step forward and pick up the scarf as she smiled at him. “ _The_ Order of the __[Argaman](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FArgaman&t=ZjMyYzIwNmVmMzU3OWUwZThkZGRlNzhmNDMzNWJkYTYzNDk0YzMzNixGZEtQZUNieA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160394078603%2F46-knowledge&m=1)_ Sun_.” She explained.

“I do not recognize _that_ language.” He stated plainly, flicking his eyes down to the material before he brought them back up to lock onto her gaze sternly.

“Nor should you. This language died _far before_ your time, my boy.” It was an odd sensation to hear her speak now as her words and speech were remarkably familiar to him and incredibly calming. In this perfect moment, he remembered _missing_ her again. The time he had spent with her were _some_ of the happiest moments of his life and he had pushed them so far away when she had died. It was difficult for him to be reminded that he had ever been _that_ innocent.

“Yet, you are _not that much_ older than I.” He pointed out. In relation to both of their overall ages, the difference was _unimpressive_ , was it not?

“Oh my boy.” She seemed amused by his statement. “I am _far older_ than you have ever realized.”

There was an air of arrogance about her and how she was addressing him. Though she _had_ released him from his chains, taught him language and knowledge, encouraged freedom of thought and gave him purpose, the Quintus that _she_ had known had been _before_ the _Master_ had fundamentally changed him. The child she knew was _before_ he was a general. _Before_ he was a husband or a _father_. _Before_ he was a _lover_ and before he was _loved deeply_ in return. And … before he was the _saviour_ of mankind.

While he did feel some amount of gratitude towards her, she was _not_ solely responsible for who he had become and as such, he kept his distance from her eager affection. Reading his rigid stance, Ancharia spoke frankly. “I am surprised to see you, honestly. I have been calling you for _months_ now.”

“Yes.” He replied simply as he shrugged it off. “I have felt it.”

“Then …” She squinted at him, seeming to be unprepared, or perhaps unappreciative, of his careful nature. “What brings you now then?”

Quintus found himself smirking slightly as his hands dropped to his sides. “I seek answers, **_mother_**.” The last word was meant to sound _somewhat_ affectionate, but its ultimate execution was far more of a sneer and he found her considering him carefully. He needed to shelf his emotions better if he wished to remain in control. Ancharia had _always_ been good at manipulation.

“So be it.” She gestured to the bed in an attempt to get him to take a seat and he waved off her offer. “Please. At least make yourself comfortable then.”

“I prefer to stand.” He did _not_ wish to sit on that bed and he remembered Ancharia as _always_ being his superior, but now, as he felt the tension rising, he knew this was no longer the case. He realized, this had _never_ been the case. “So, _this is what you do now?_ ” He relaxed as he began to walk around the room, turning on his more _judgemental_ side.

“ _This_ is what I’ve _always_ done, Quintus.” She shrugged. “You simply knew me when I was much … _older_.”

Turning his back, he regarded the various paintings on the walls while he spoke to her. This particular art was another snake, but this one was also part man. He stared at its yellow eyes for a moment before he asked for clarification. “You were always a lady of the night?” He asked disappointingly.

“You think me a _whore_?” She scoffed. “ _Hardly_ , my child.” She turned away from his snide words, picking up her brush as she began to comb through her thick and perfectly wavy auburn hair. “I … am a _Priestess of Argaman_.”

The emphasis she placed on that title was supposed to mean something, but he wasn’t sure what. “Should this title mean something to me?” He walked to the next piece. It was a gryphon.

“I was born a _crystal child_.” She continued to brush her hair as she explained matter of factly. “Adoption into the Order was necessary for one _such as me_ to survive.”

“And …” He turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “This **_Order_** required you to sell your body?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I do _not_ deal in trading flesh for _coin_ , nor have I _ever_ , Quintus. I deal in _pleasure_. I deal in …” As her eyes matched his through the reflection, she smiled. “ _Intimacy_.”

 _That word_. Did she understand its meaning to him? No. _Not possible_. Stay focused.

“Intimacy?” He snidely balked at the word. “And …” He waved a hand towards the bed as she laughed at his scrutiny. “You chose to define _this_ as _intimacy_?”

“Of course not. This is _pleasure_.” Putting the comb down, she began to make a careful braid in her hair as she watched him through the mirror. “ ** _Intimacy_** is what I provided to _you_ , my child. Was it not?”

 _Hmmm_. That was … _uncomfortably true_. He walked to the next piece and looked at the six-winged serpent rising out of intense blue flames on the canvas, studying it carefully before speaking again. “But you are beyond life now … why conform to such … obligations?” He pushed, still finding her unpleasant and she giggled at him.

“So judgemental, aren’t you?” She finished the braid and began to pull back her bangs, clipping them into place with intricate and beautiful metal barrettes. “This is the _afterlife_ … this is _bliss_. _Paradise_ … “

He scoffed loudly at her statement and she ignored him, continuing with her words. “And as such … I chose to _enjoy_ myself any and every way that I see fit. Perhaps you should try the same? You might learn how not to be so … _uptight_.”

“I should try the same?” He moved on to the fireplace mantle, peering down at all the tiny things it was covered in. They were of varying sizes, but they were all the same type of spiny shells, ranging from the size of his fingertip to the size of his entire fist. Picking one up, he examined it closely, recognizing it immediately. It was from a type of rock snail he had seen _many times_ in Italy. “Are you referring to _intimacy_ or _pleasure_ , **_mother_**?”

“Either … “ She shrugged. “Or _perhaps even both_?” She waved a hand towards the closed door and the hallway beyond it. “There are others here who would be honored to share pleasures with something as _unique_ as you.”

Her _suggestion_ rubbed him the wrong way, as he was distinctly reminded of the “ _pleasures_ ” his _uniqueness_ granted him in _Ancient Rome_. “I am not interested in _these things_. It is not why I have come _here_.”

“No. I did not suppose so. But I am hoping that you have come here to do more than _judge_ how I … and _many, many others_ … chose to spend our eternity in _Paradise_?” He was finally hitting a nerve and he turned from the shells though he kept one in his palm as he spun the small shell in his fingers.

“No. It is not.” He confirmed.

“Then be frank with me.” She began to powder her face with makeup. “And be quick about it, my next company will be here soon.”

 _Next company_. Quintus found himself twitch suddenly and the shock of the gesture was hard to mask. He hadn’t twitched in quite some time and Ancharia snickered at it.

“Come, Quintus.” She spun from her makeup station to face him fully. “I will speak no more of _pleasures_ , if you will just be _frank_ with me. Stop attempting these _childish_ mind games with me. I am the one who taught them _to you_.”

 _Very well_. She might not be his equal, but she was still incredibly intelligent at the very least. She had always been. “Why did you seek me out?” He asked.

“Pardon?” Was her confusion honest? Did she not understand his questions? Unlikely. “Because I wished to speak with you again. To see how you are adjusting to life here.”

“No.” He sighed dramatically at her misunderstanding of his question. “I mean when you found me that day … caged and alone. When you _found_ me as a child.” Finally, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed as he regarded her strikingly beautiful face.

“Ah. That.” She said as she finished with powder, setting it back down on the surface of the table.

There was a moment of silence as she stared at him and he looked down at the shell in his fingers, rolling it around and without warning, all of his questions flooded out at once. “You spoke of a _prophecy_. Tell me of it. How did you come by it? _Who_ sent you to find me? Was it this _Order_? And how _did_ you find me? The _Master_ called you _Huntress_ in the cave. Did he _know_ you before _that_ time? If you are older than I assume, how old are you and how is that even possible? What is the meaning of the Ouroboros? Is the purpose of my existence finally over? Am I to have no further importance?”

“Oh my.” She smiled, cocking her head to the right as she regarded him fully. “Always _so curious_ , aren’t you? How long have you been holding all of this in, my boy?”

Unamused by her lack of concise answer, he simply stared at her while he continued to roll the small shell between his fingers. He found the act incredibly calming as he realized he used to do the exact same with Tasa’s locket when he was restless. The shell that he had unconsciously picked up was _exactly_ the same size as the locket as well.

“Very well. Which one should I start with?” He continued to express his lack of amusement and she sighed again, standing from the dresser and taking a seat next to him on the soft mattress. “There was a prophecy many, _many_ millennia before either you _or_ I were born. It was from _this_ prophecy that the _Order of Argaman_ arose.” She paused and he nodded once, accepting her information.

  
  


“Proceed.” He encouraged. “What was _this_ prophecy specifically?”

“I have told it to you _many_ times, have I not? The Ancients, I am certain, had also conveyed it to you. That there would be an unnatural union with a daughter of _man_ and that the resulting child would be a unique being _destined for greatness_. It would bear the mark of their maker but _not_ be bound by the same limitations and that _this_ creature would lead to their undoing.”

He had heard it somewhat different from the Ancients, and while the overall meanings were similar, the words Ancharia uttered were far more abstract and … _encompassing_ of _other_ possibilities. Of … _other unique beings he knew_.

“And where did this prophecy originate?” He asked.

“It is not entirely certain, as it was around before many of the celestial beings were even born.” She shrugged. “It is speculated that the first prophet who witnessed it was [Lilith](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FLilith&t=ZDM0YTI4YzY2ODRlYjA5YTNiYzI0NDM3Y2ZiYTlkMzQ4MDZjY2JlNyxGZEtQZUNieA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160394078603%2F46-knowledge&m=1) herself. Other’s say it was the _Wheel within the Wheel_.”

“Wheel within the Wheel?” He asked for clarification of the odd name indeed.

“[Sandalphon](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSandalphon&t=MWI5NjBkY2IxYTk3YzA4ZDgyNWVlYzhlZjYwMDJiN2Q5MDE3MTM2YyxGZEtQZUNieA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160394078603%2F46-knowledge&m=1).” She said. “The Tall One. But … it matters not. Regardless of where it _started_ , many lines of prophets recanted the same vision for centuries afterwards.”

“Go on.” He encouraged.

“As far as _how_ we found you … that is simple and quite obvious. There had been whispers of your birth for years. The _Master_ was in search of a _child_ and then hushed tales of humans drained of blood during daylight hours spread across the lands. It is how we came across your _possible existence_.”

“Fair enough.”

“He called me _Huntress_ … “ She paused briefly. “The _Master_ knew me, yes. In my younger years, I worked for him. I worked for _them_.”

“Them?” He gripped the shell in his fist as he looked at her carefully. “The Ancients?”

“In a way … _yes_. I was trained as a Sun Hunter long before I was _your mother_.”

“A … _Sun Hunter_?” He smiled. “I thought you said you were _born_ into this **_Order_**?”

  
  


“I said the only way to survive was _the Order_ , but … do not assume that the two are _mutually exclusive_ , Quintus. The Order had been watching the Ancients for some time. It was necessary to keep an _eye_ on them. The best way to observe them was from within.”

“They _sent_ you to accomplish that task?” He squinted at her carefully as he smiled further. “You are saying you were a double agent?”

“A spy. Indeed.” She was pleased with his intuition. “When it was disclosed that the _Seventh_ had misstepped, I discretely exited _their_ employ. We _needed_ to find you before _they_ did. It took _years_ … We were vigilant and patient.”

She seemed to be finished and he pressed with the still unanswered bits. “And your age?”

“My boy, you are old enough to know it is _quite rude_ to ask a woman’s age, yes?”

Unamused, he stared at her, trying to gauge if she actually thought he would be deterred by the remark and when it was obvious he would not, she cleared her throat. “Will you not allow me _some_ amount of privacy?”

 _No. Not today._ “How it is possible?” He demanded.

“I am sure you know this answer. Hunters have been extending their lives _for years_ , have they not?”

“You are implying the use of _The White_?” Even so, using the _white_ would only extend a lifespan by decades, _not_ by whatever she had implied earlier. _How much older was she_?

“The White … “ She repeated. “ _Divine Blood itself_.” She chuckled. “In a way … _yes_.”

It was a non-answer and reading her clear defiance at the prodding, he opted to move on. “Ouroboros.”

“Should I give you a history lesson?” She quipped.

“I know of the symbol, but why is it of importance to you?”

“It is the Infinite Cycle. The endlessness between life and death.” She said simply. “It is our reminder …”

“A reminder? Of what?”

“Of why the Order exists. Of why we chose to do what we do.”

“To continue the cycle?” He asked and she looked up sharply into his eyes with growing fire.

“No.” Her word was forceful. “Actually quite the opposite in fact, my boy.”

“I do not follow.” Tilting his head to the right, he matched the fierceness of her gaze. “You wish to _end the cycle_ of life and death? You will forgive me but … that sounds as if you wish for the apocalypse, _mother_.”

  
  


“No.” Another forceful word. “You misunderstand again. We don’t seek to _end_ life _or_ death. We fight to destroy the cycle of it all. We fight …” She stood now as he heard passion rise timidly in her voice. “We fight for _change_. The serpent …” She waved to one of the paintings on her wall and she smirked. “The serpent is forever consuming his own tail … not allowed to cease. Never allowed to _evolve_. If the serpent is allowed to keep _eating itself_ , there will be no room left for the rest of us.”

“And … We are _all serpents here, yes?_ ” He said and her eyes grew wide.

“Indeed.” She looked at him peacefully again. “And I can sense that _you desire change_ as well. I can tell you are unhappy here, Quintus.”

“Perhaps I am not.” He admitted, rubbing the shell with his fingers again as he stared down to it. “Unfortunately, neither one of us have the power nor influence to enact change on a system such as _this_.”

“Have you learned nothing of your accomplishments yet? Never underestimate what you are capable of, Quintus **_Densus_**.” As he looked up, he found her beaming at him and he was reminded of how good she was at encouraging him and he bit back the smile that nearly escaped. He wished to at least give the impression of retaining control over the conversation. Of being _unaffected_ by her words.

  
  


“And, as for your final questions … _Is the purpose of you existence finally over_?” She walked to him, taking his hands in hers as she pulled him to his feet. “Personally, I doubt that _very much_. And finally … _Are you of no further importance_? What does your heart tell you?”

 _His heart?_ What a strange question to ask, as his _heart_ reminded him, in every single agonizing waking instant in this place that _his purpose_ was still on _Earth_.

“My heart …” He hesitated. “Has a history of getting me into _trouble_.”

“Yes.” She touched his chest with the palm of her right hand. “The most passionate ones have that tendency. But … do not _shy away from what drives you, Quintus_. Your defiance has always been as important as your strength.”

Defiance? He looked down at her hand as he unconsciously put the shell into his pocket, right where he had kept the locket, before placing his hand over hers and she smiled at the gesture.

“I am told to just _accept_ things as they are.” He said lowly, closing his eyes with disappointment. “I am told there is _nothing_ I can do now.”

“I would be _quite disappointed_ in you if you succumbed to that mentality.” She tapped the skin over his rib cage as she stared up into his saddened eyes. “You would truly be a poor _agent of change_ if you just … gave in … so _easily_.”

As she reached up to touch his face, he found himself grabbing her hand before it could make contact with his skin. _No_. Whatever intimacy they had shared before, too much time had passed and he was not comfortable with this action. Dropping his hold on her fingers, he turned and began to walk towards the door.

All of his questions were answered and he did not wish to stay in this place any longer. He could _hear_ and even _smell_ everything that was occurring in the rooms around them. Now he wished to just return to the more quiet parts of the realm. Making no movement and giving no argument to stop him, she silently watched him until he reached for the handle.

“You are welcome to return at any time, Quintus. I am here if you need someone to speak with …” He turned to look at her a final time as she whispered. “Or, to confide in. We are more alike than you realize.”

“Thank you for the answers. They are appreciated.” She nodded and as he walked through the door he heard her chortle one last thing from behind.

“And … please tell **_Sempronius_** he is also welcome to visit me _anytime_.” There was a giggle in her voice and Quintus cringed.

 _Ha!_ He laughed to himself. _THAT was_ **_never_** _going to happen._

* * *

 

He had be gone for hours and Hathų sat at her kitchen table, spinning her cup anxiously as she normally did when she waited from him to return from Earth. The dog, _Thunder_ , approached the door and scratched seconds before her husband entered the safe place. As he did, the normally hidden glyphs on the walls burned with golden intensity before fading back into obscurity.

They could speak freely now.

The look on his face was one she had never seen, but she spoke before he could. “There was a … _problem_.” She said lowly.

“Great.” Michael stopped and sighed. “What is it now?”

“He …” She spun the cup again and again. “He found the _meadow_. He found … _Michael_.”

“What?!” Michael coughed as he lunged forward to the table. “How’s that possible?! It’s _sealed_!!”

“I don’t know … he said …” Spinning the cup again, she explained. “He claimed that he just _walked_ there.”

“Only _Hayyoth_ can …” His voice trailed off as the reality of the situation sank in and he remembered his own words at the trial. It was impossible to know what he would be capable of. He’d underestimated the half breed’s power. “… find that place …” Michael melted with defeat into the chair, his hands coming up to his forehead as he closed his eyes as tightly as he could.

“It is my fault.” She choked. “ _This_ is my fault. He was … looking for me.” She blamed herself. “I thought it was alright to visit him … Quintus was in his cell … I _thought_ it would be alright … I thought–”

“Who allowed him out?” Michael asked, but from the tone of the question, he already knew the answer. “Raphael?” She nodded and he sighed again, placing his hand palm down on the table as his wife nervously spun her cup around again _and_ again.

“I should not have gone there. I should not have–”

Reaching out and grabbing her hand tightly, Michael smiled meekly. “Enough blame. Enough. It’s not your fault. It’s alright. I think it’ll be fine. He doesn’t know what I look like. I doubt he can make any connection out of it.” He cringed internally at this, as he knew the boy was not a fool.

“Your visage isn’t private, Michael.”

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, there are more pressing matters right now.”

“How did your … _visit_ go?” She gulped as she mentioned it. Going to see Barqan had ravaged his soul and she could _see it_. It was either the _child_ or something else was lingering behind his anxiety. “Will he comply?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded sadly. “He will.”

“This is a dangerous game you play …” She offered and he waved a hand towards her, attempting to dismiss her words.

“I’m aware. But … I _know_ my brother, I _know–_ ”

“Just as you _knew_ Quintus? And just as you _knew_ Lu–”

“Don’t utter that name.” He stared at her intently. Even though they were safe to speak in this place, he didn’t even wish to _hear_ the name. “So, you doubt me now? After _all_ of these years, you’re now starting to _doubt_ me as well?” He asked, less in anger and more in growing worry.

“No … It is not that … it is just …” She reached for his hand and he allowed her to take it, interlacing their fingers. “People change, Michael. You cannot always know what someone will do.”

“Ha!” He laughed loudly. “No. Trust me. Gabriel will _never_ change. He’s _incapable_ of it.” He scoffed and Hathų glared at her husband with the disappointed eyes that only a wife can wield against her husband. “ _I still have faith in my brother_.”

“And you will risk the child’s existence on _that_?” Hathų was less worried about the life of a random Djinn child than she was about the lingering effects that such an act would have on Michael’s soul.

> _We float on the breeze_
> 
> _We are held to a ransom_
> 
> _We are bones on the riffs_
> 
> _Waiting for the waves, the waves_

“Risk this child’s life? For _you?_ ” He pushed her mug aside and found her other free hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “For _our son_?” Reaching across the table with both of their hands interlaced, he smiled warmly to her for the first time in months. “For _Dawn_?” Hathų could read his intentions and she had missed them. “For all those _who existed between them_?” Since the _Seventh_ had started its siege on the Earth, Michael had been preoccupied and distant. She felt her _need_ for him begin to smoulder within. “ _Yes_.” He pulled her up to her feet as he stood, never releasing her hands as he walked them passed the edge of the table. “I would risk _many_ things for all of you.”

“And if you are wrong about him?” She pressed as he bent to kiss her. His lips were soft but there was something behind his action that concerned her. His body trembled slightly. He was keeping something from her.

Pulling back from his mouth, she touched the scar across his cheek, “What is wrong?”

“Many things.” He said, looking down and losing himself into her brown expressive irises. “ _So many things are wrong … but …_ **_right now_** _…_ ” Reaching down, he picked her up with enough sudden force that she gasped, slipping his grip under her left arm and cradling her legs with his right. “If everything must crumble, I want to remember _why_ …”

“ _Why_ what?” She asked as he kissed her again.

“I want to remember why it was all worth it.”

There were no further words spoken as he carried her into the next room. She could _feel_ something was _terribly wrong_ and she had no doubts he would tell her, but right now, she allowed them to lose themselves.

 

* * *

 

The moment the door shut behind Quintus, Ancharia watched as the walls around her burned with white glyphs and a dark figure stepped forward from the shadows of the corner. Its voice echoing _only_ in the depths of her mind.

“You provided answers, but sought none yourself.” It complained. “You were supposed to press him …”

“He is not ready to share with me yet.” She turned and smiled, bowing her head to the entity slightly. “He will. I am sure of it. I know my own son.”

“ _He is_ **_not_** _your son,_ **_Priestess_**.” It countered calmly but firmly. “Nor is he the same boy you once knew.”

“Yes, he is the same boy. I can see it still.” She sighed. “And just as we did with him before, trust must be built and earned. You gave me this task once before, and I was _quite_ successful at it, was I not?”

“And how long do you think this will take? It has already taken him _months_ to answer your calls just this _once_.”

“Such impatience is quite _unlike_ you, Argaman” She raised a brow and the figure shifted, gliding across the ground like an apparition as it inched closer to her. “You have _never_ had doubts in my abilities before …”

“There are ripples. Something is off.” It said and she watched silently as the shadow began to fade. Its voice was a distant whisper now and the instant before it vanished entirely, it ordered her rudely. “ _Work faster._ ”

  
  



	34. Interlude 4 - Between the Emotion and the Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you do not remember the first chapter of A Savage Inconvenience, please go back and read it again [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/24122757).

### Interlude 4 - Between the Emotion and the Response

> _Bring all your things and we will build a pyre_
> 
> _Find resurrection in the flames_
> 
> _And in the fury of alarm bells_
> 
> _We shalt begin_
> 
> _We shalt begin again_

When he woke, the first thought to cross his mind _was_ that he was incapable of moving. As his eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light that flooded in caused him to wince and his body gave a slight jolt. It was with this sudden movement that he realized he was utterly restrained and the recollection of this exact moment overwhelmed him. Just as before, in the _very beginning_ of their journey together, his hands and legs were bound and something wrapped around and around his head and mouth.

Commission by [@weillschmidtdoodles](http://weillschmidtdoodles.tumblr.com)

They had been in the cabin and he fell asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around her small body, holding her firmly against his chest. They were talking but as her breathing deepened he felt the instant she fell asleep against him. He had fought the fatigue for minutes, wishing to stay awake as long as possible as he breathed her in and felt her heart _thundering_ beneath her chest, but the rhythm of her heartbeat slowly eased him into joining her in peaceful slumber …

 _What was this?_ His heart raced while he blinked several times and his eyes adjusted slowly to the brightness. As the small room around him slowly bounced into sharp focus, he quickly realized that it was _indeed_ the same place in which he had woken before and he was restrained _again_ with the sticky yet tough silvery material, cleverly binding him to the metal bed frame.

 _Oh gods._ His mind leapt at the thought that _it might have_ **_all_** _been a dream_ , but as he looked around and he slowly realized everything was _exactly_ as it had been he remembered _this_ was the actual dream.

It was the very same small room, concrete walled and a solid metal door with the makeshift metal latch supports on either side. They had been pieced together with metal fittings and drilled into the concrete with massive lag bolts. He smiled under his Duct Tape gag as he _knew_ this was done by her.

Looking down to the ground, he could see the dust from drilling into the concrete still graced the floor in tiny piles and the cordless drill itself still sat on the floor idly to the right of the frame. _Such a clever little engineer._ He hadn’t had time to full appreciate the ingenuity behind it _or_ the hallway of lights at the time, but he remembered everything with absolute precision now and he _loved it_ , grinning wider under his tape.

The metal crossbar was resting vertically, leaned against the wall just to the right of the door itself. He remembered her beating his weakened form into submission with a brutal swing to his right temple and he chuckled at the recollection. So dirty … and tiny … and _fierce_. He could say with absolutely certainty that he had _never_ been downed by one as … unassuming as she was.

He noted the bedding that had been bunched up behind the entrance again. She had slept on the floor, worried about an ambush. So prepared and so very _alone_. She had survived for _months_ here, in this cold, damp place, _all alone_ … _all by herself._ Until he found her … or rather, until _she_ found _him_.

He knew _this_ point in time was already months after she had fled from the _Master’s_ prison when he had unknowingly given her the opportunity of escape after he had taken the head of his father’s vessel. When she had told him the story of her flight, sitting on the kitchen counter of that repugnant condo while he cleaned her face of its cuts and gashes …

> “How did you escape?” He queried and she had looked down, rubbing her hands together. He thought this was just a nervous action at first, and he placed his free hand on hers to halt it.
> 
> “I … I got out of the shackles and I–”
> 
> Remembering clearly bothered her but he desired answers and he pressed, interrupting her. “How did you free yourself?”
> 
> “Does it matter?” She stared up into his ice blue eyes with a pleading look and he refused to relent.
> 
> “Every detail may matter.” He pushed and rubbed the alcohol-soaked cloth across the delicate but scuffed skin just beneath her eye while she winced at the sting of it. Admittedly, he actually didn’t _have_ to know this detail, but he wished to know it nevertheless. Whatever she had been through, he _needed_ to know the extent of it. He _needed_ to know what had been done to her.
> 
> “My thumb … I …” She hesitated as she rubbed it, stuttering and he had continued cleaning with his right hand but grabbed her nervous hands with his left again, halting their anxious movements. “ _I broke it._ ”
> 
> He wondered in this moment, thinking back on their time in the condo. The rocket came, yes, but he used every ounce of his willpower to not kiss her at that very instant …

_Defiant. Intelligent. Fierce._ There were _many more words_ that came to mind to describe how he defined her, but those three words floated to the surface above all the others that lingered beneath. _Defiant … and_ **_Unconquerable_**.

 ** _Damnation._** Of all the places for them to be dreaming, why did it have to be _this instant_? He repeated that word in his mind several times … _them. Them._ **_Them!_**

 _But … Where was she?!_ He was alone in this cold little room and he so hated being restrained.

He tugged at the tape slightly before finally breathing a sigh of relief as he heard her soft and distant footsteps trespass into his ears, just as they had done before.

_She was returning._

* * *

She was running but she didn’t remember why and she felt rushed as her little legs beat heavily against the pavement below while she panted deep breaths. _Fucking cardio._ The sun was going down and she _desperately needed_ to get somewhere before it did.

_Where the hell was she going again?_

All she knew was the direction in which she ran and that she was carrying something metal, large, and cumbersome in her hands as she sprinted and once she turned the corner of the sidewalk, she stared up with wide eyes at the building before her. As it came sharply into focus, she smiled as she realized it was _her factory_. No longer _burnt_ down and right in front of her. As if lightning struck, she suddenly remembered this instant. Stopping dead in her tracks, she looked down at the metal box and remembered there was a furry animal inside.

_Oh god. Nope. Nope. Not again._

Kneeling, she opened the side to release it and watched happily as the animal bounded away in the direction of the _sunset_. Some guilt over the creature’s eventual fate had been weighing on her heart, but the shame melted away as she beamed, watching it jump to freedom as her eyes floated up to the horizon.

_Oh shit. The sunset. Oh shit …_

_Oh … crap._ She giggled as she remembered where she was going.

_Quintus!_

Into the building, she hurried. Rounding the corner to the basement stairs, she skipped down them as quickly as she could manage. Around the bend and into the locker rooms, then through the showers and still beyond.

As she approached her expertly hidden doorway, she sighed with relief. Almost there. Reaching into the box on the right, she gripped the handle behind it.

Once through the door, she smiled. The lights, strung up across the hallway, were still running. Her pride over her invention swelled as she pulled the door shut behind her and flicked the generator off as she passed. She supposed she didn’t _need_ to, but she did so not because it was necessary, but because it was still ingrained habit.

Gripping the doorknob as she took a deep breath, she held it within as she opened it slowly. She had no idea why she was _nervous_ , but experiencing all of this again was invigorating and she found herself still smiling madly as she was met with his steely white eyes staring eagerly back at her.

The first time, she had found him awake and _quite_ angry, but now she watched his eyes blink dramatically in relief as he saw her and his chest heaved a release of relieved breath. When she walked fully into the room, she paused for a moment as she stared at her Duct Tape handy work wrapped all around his formidable body. The hesitation was too long for him and he clenched his fist, rattling the bed by jerking his body slightly to gain her wandering attention.

“Oh!” She covered her mouth as she giggled slightly. “Yeah.” Visiting the tiny table in the corner that housed her tools, she grabbed the pair of scissors and turned back to him. As she crossed _half_ the distance between them, she paused again, watching him carefully and his brows furrowed in concern as he glared back.

 

* * *

> _Don’t care what they say_
> 
> _I will have my way_
> 
> _Cause it ain’t wrong loving you_
> 
> _At the end of the day_
> 
> _You won’t push me away_
> 
> _No, it ain’t wrong loving you_

She was standing completely still and her expressive eyes were transfixed somewhere on his sternum or maybe it was his shirt. He waited patiently for a number of seconds as he watched her mulling over something carefully in her mind. As she spun the scissors in her grip, she bit her lower lip and Quintus tilted his head to the right inquisitively watching her.

It was the lip bite when his patience ran out, and he clenched his body, rattling the metal bed frame loudly. It was with this movement that he realized he was _not_ weak at all, least not like he had been _that_ day he woke up as her captor the first time.

His action jolted her back from wherever her mind had wandered, but he could see the tiniest of ideas sparkling within her lovely eyes. Perhaps he should have been concerned about her obvious reluctance to free him, but he relaxed instead. This wasn’t real, but even if it was, he had _nothing_ to fear from the tiny _Poet_ , did he?

She approached again, but slower this time and with the faintest of grins beginning to grace her face. He understood at once what was frolicking across her impressive mind. _She thought she was back in control_ and she was _basking_ in it.

_Oh …  
_

_Hmmmm._

_Damnation._

He was hoping she would cut his arm free as she had done that day when all of this had occurred but she didn’t. Instead, she attempted to reach over the railing with the scissors to at least cut his mouth free, but the side rails proved to make the task difficult. There was another moment of silent consideration as she decided she would need to _get closer_ to cut his mouth free.

Opting to crawl onto the bed to get closer, he grinned under his gag as she let the massive coat that covered her small body drop to the ground before she climbed over the railing completely onto him as she straddled his hips, sitting down comfortably. All things considering, though he didn’t appreciate being restrained, this was not an entirely unpleasant situation and he was glad the tape was hiding his childish smile.

He crunched his abdominals up slightly which allowed him to lean forward, providing her easier access to the tape and she brought the metal instruments up slowly, opening them up before she sat back down onto him and relaxed the scissors in her grip, letting them fall to his chest. She wasn’t going to cut him free _yet_ and again she stared down at his shirt, unable to look him in the eyes.

“I watched you sleep.” She whispered a hushed confession down at that same spot on his shirt she had been transfixed on earlier and he raised an eyebrow in anticipation of what _else_ she might admit. He relaxed further as her eyes grew wider.

_Hmmmmm._

She was embarrassed but in all honesty, if he _could_ speak right now, he could alleviate any lingering shame that this act had caused her as he would admit to doing _exactly the same_. He would admit to watching her sleep many more times than she could have possibly _watched_ him.

When she had been sleeping downstairs on the couch and he would sneak down, excusing his actions as simply _needing to check on the perimeter_. Even upstairs in _his_ donated bed on _some_ occasions, cracking the door open to steal just a peek under the guise of making sure she wasn’t _walking in her sleep_. And then there had been _every night for weeks_ when she was in the makeshift hospital tent and he would crawl through the window, sit for hours and just _wait_.

“I just …” He could read the growing humiliation on her face as she continued to expose her secrets to him. “I watched you _breath … for hours_. I watched you.”

He would have told her everything, but he couldn’t and he was nearly glad that he could not. He wanted to hear this because it actually made him feel _less_ guilted by his _own_ actions. Hearing her disclose what she _felt_ as though she should be ashamed to admit, he felt washed clean of his own self doubts.

When it seemed like she might be finished, he tensed slightly under her control and she looked up from her deep thoughts, finally locking eyes with him as he grunted lowly, pulling on his restrained arms with clenched fists softly to let her know he wished to be free _still_ , but it was doubtful she had _forgotten_ that fact.

He might have longed to be released, _but more importantly_ , he wished her to free him by her choice and he could see her considering it with her expressive eyes. Assuming she was in control, her eyes traced slowly from his irises down to his tape covered mouth and then across his swirls to that same spot on his sternum and then back up again as he raised his eyebrow to her, cocking his head to the left playfully and then to the right.

“Well … “ Bringing the scissors up again, she teased the tip of them gingerly on his chest. “The last time I let you go …” She placed a palm on his sternum as she leaned forward, bending down to bring her face close to his. “You made me _regret_ it.”

 _Indeed_. He had, but what she didn’t fully grasp yet was that he made himself _regret_ as well …

That terrible decision and agonizing moment was one that he himself regretted more than _any_ he had ever done. Kneading all of his sins over in his mind, he decided he would do _all_ those terrible things again. Every wrong in his long life if he could just take that one moment back. That point in time in which he had violated her against her will in this cold room when he had pushed himself into her flesh and taken from her. All of those terrible things in his long two thousand years, he would do again, _repeatedly_ , just to take back this _one_.

**_Without hesitation._ **

He would burn Rome down again. He would take Ancharia’s life _again_ and Decimus’ head. Abraham’s. Bruk’s. … … … Tasa’s. Burning that tiny town to the North of Constantinople while _all_ of its inhabitants screamed. The tragedy of Liviana. The suicide of the Priestess.

All of those years, all of those friends … _His_ friends. _His_ … family. If he had to pick a single moment to undo, it was **_this_** moment. Because if he hadn’t been such a _bastard_ , he might have had _months_ with her instead of _hours_ before his end.

Was this a _foolish_ thought? He scoffed at it immediately. Did he really think that she would have wanted him back _then_? He was a monster. However, in this precious instance, as she confessed her initial actions and thoughts about him, it was even more bittersweet than he could have imagined. _It wasn’t a foolish thought at all, was it? It would have happened. Oh gods._ When had he started to _want_ this? He had wasted _months_ …

He wished more _at this moment_ than ever before to rip through the silvery constraints that he was certain would tear under his full strength, but her meandering eyes drove him to resist as he allowed her to retain perceived control of the situation.

_Patience Quintus._

“I took off your shoes …” She smiled a little bit while she brought the scissors up to her lips and pressed the tip of the sharp point against her thin lower lip. The plump flesh folded against the metal and he rattled lowly as he watched it. “ _I took off a sock …_ ” Her eyes grew wider. “I didn’t know what you were, so I counted your toes … carefully.”

 _His toes? Hmmm. Alright_. He didn’t count her toes, but then again, he was certain she was _human_. That assumption proved somewhat false now but–

He mumbled something intelligible under the tape and she stared down at his mouth while he mumbled it _again_. She was quite curious and he could tell that his unheard words had piqued her interest.

When it was obvious she was finally going to release his mouth, at least as she lifted the scissors, he leaned forward again, but the task itself proved dangerous. He flinched at the sharpness as she tried to wedge the blade underneath the tape and the skin of his face. She’d wrapped it quite tight after all.

He remembered how he had to remove the tape carefully the first time and she repeated that action now, finding the end of the piece as she began to pull it off in one solid piece, around and around and _around_ his head. She likely used _an entire_ spindle on his face alone and he might have been annoyed at the repetitiveness of the action, but on each circle, her body rocked against him, both in retreating from his face as well as sitting back slightly on his lap and then coming forward and nearly grazing her breasts with his face again.

The first four cycles, he was quite obedient, but on the fifth, he leaned forward just an inch further as he pushed her up and forward with his hips, bringing his face to fully brush against her curves.

Pulling back sharply, she scrunched her nose at him with annoyance while he _giggled loudly_ under the tape. _Giggle_? Did he just _giggle_? Yes. It was quite amusing. He wished to do it again.

“Hey!” Her protest was met with an innocent shrug and puppy eyes. If she could have seen his mouth, she would have seen him smiling devilishly. “Do you want out or not?”

 _That_ was a good question, indeed. He actually wasn’t sure he did as his interest to what she might wish to do with him was increasing as the situation progressed, but he liked his mouth free at the _very_ least. Complying, he sighed heavily and watched her with playful eyes as she pulled the silver tape from him. _Around and around and around_ until he was _finally_ free.

He stretched his jaw and relaxed back onto the bed as he stared up at her while she dropped the mound of tape onto the ground next to the frame.

“What were you saying?” Her still curious mind demanded.

“ _I was saying_ … “ He flexed his jaw and mouth one more time. “At least you did not strip me as Dr. Goodweather felt _compelled_ to do.”

“He … “ She sat back on him as a strange, confused smile graced her spotted face. “He _stripped_ you? Why would he do that?”

“Indeed. That is the exact question I asked him as well.”

“And … What was his answer?” She queried.

“His claim was to verify no further injury.” Quintus scoffed with a tiny snicker. “Although I am quite certain it was more due to _scientific curiosity_.”

“But …” She held in a laugh. “Why did you even _let_ him do that?”

“You think I would have allowed that?” He laughed out loud as he shook his head. “I was _not_ conscious at the time.”

“Oh.” She was very amused by the disclosure. “No. I didn’t strip you, I mean … just your foot. That would have been …” Her words trailed off and he found himself smirking in anticipation of her response.

Bucking slightly under her hips, he bit his lip and offered a word as he raised his eyebrows, “ _Enlightening_?”

“No. I was thinking: _Rude_.” She admitted, but as she felt his hips grind again beneath her, he pushed his stiffness up to her, her expressive eyes grew wide with shocked as she lifted her body off of him, coming to her knees. “Hey!”

Pouting at her flight from his body, he clenched his jaw as he jiggled his restraints again. “Perhaps.” He purred. “But I do not think it would be **_rude_** to consider it _now_.” The thought of such a thing sent a trill through his stringer and he considered breaking the tape again before calming himself.

_Patience, Quintus._

This seemed to be his motto on _this day._

“Yeah, well …” She stared down at him mischievously. “You aren’t in charge right now, are you?”

_Mmmmmm._

“Perhaps _not_.” He relaxed and looked at her carefully, glancing down at the scissors still in her grip as he grinned at her. “And … I wonder … what is it exactly that you wish to do _now_?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he used his constrained arms as leverage thrusting upwards from under her hips again and sending her into the air dramatically as he arched his body beneath her. Almost losing balance from his action, her palms flew to his chest to prepare herself for the ride of this unexpected buck.

“Oh!” She chirped, surprised by his suddenly action and he smiled at her reaction. “Stop that!”

“Is that a command? You wish me to be _obedient?_ ” He purred, staring up to her as he bit his lower lip, increasingly amused at her shocked face as he pumped his hips more gently this time, only sending her body up an inch or two. “Then what is in it for me?”

“In it for you?” She questioned as she regained her composure. “What do you mean?”

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” He rattled as he bounced her gently one more time, enjoying the jiggle it sent rippling through her upper body. “If you wish me to be _compliant_ , then you must offer me something in return. No?”

He waited patiently as she found herself deep in thought over his words. As she brought the tip of the scissors up to her mouth, she pressed the sharp point against her thin lips and she had _no clue_ that the action was causing his desire to further boil.

Growling, he replayed the memories of early as he recollected the feeling of _those_ lips on his tender flesh and his body stirred with unrelenting firmness as she seemed to be lost in careful thought, staring off into a distant spot on the wall above him. As he watched at her, the realization that she had _no idea_ what her very simple action was doing to him only increased his growing passion.

 _Damnation_.

She had no idea how easily she was enticing him and her _innocence_ on this matter only drove him more mad with hardness. Her eyes meandered down slowly finding their way back to his and she smiled deviously. “O.K., and what exactly _do_ you want?”

“ _Mmmmmm_.” He purred deeply and loudly, enough to send the vibration reverberating through his chest and into her body wherever it touched his. “I believe you are quite aware of what I _desire_.” He gripped his fists tightly and the Duct Tape gave a small squeak as he flexed his muscles beneath its sticky surface, tensing his whole body in growing frustration. “It would be unwise to toy with me.”

“It would be just as _unwise_ to _threaten_ me.” She leaned forward, still sporting her devilish grin, bringing the scissors up in an aggressive manner. “You aren’t really in a position to–”

“It is _not_ a threat.” He interrupted, bucking slightly again to make sure she hadn’t forgotten about his readiness and she rode the motion, clearly expecting it and prepared for it this time. _Mmmmmmm_. “It is merely a _warning_ , **_Libellula_** ”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” She asked simply.

Quintus cocked his head to the right and then to the left as he considered his answer. Did he _really_ want to tell her that her eyes reminded him of the day his family was taken from him? Without understanding the full history behind the experience itself, she would likely interpret it poorly. Instead of realizing that it was all about her, he knew she would make it about his family instead. He _knew_ if he told her, she would hate the name and he so _loved_ to call her by it. “It means–”

“Dragonfly.” She interrupted.

“Yes.” He shifted slightly. “How do you know this?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She demanded as she relished the _control_ she thought she had over him. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Your eyes remind me of a _species_ found near my _farm_.” He said simply as he hoped she would not ask further about it.

“You have a _farm_?” She asked immediately, scrunching her delicate nose into an unattractive face. The tone of her voice seeming to not believe his disclosure. “Wait, why do you have a _farm_? What the hell do you grow there?”

“I have **_many_** things.” Deflecting her question quickly, he tried to gain control the conversation’s direction. “Would you prefer I called you by your _other names?_ If so, which one? Your _true_ name _or_ your _new one_ instead?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Does it truly bother you that I have given you such a nickname?”

“No.” She said shyly as she blushed slightly. “I was just wondering.”

“If you wish …” He smiled warmly. “You may call me whatever you wish as well.”

“Oh … I can? How _very_ kind of you.” She seemed to find his _offer_ amusing as she chuckled loudly at it. He was also finding her overly confident demeanour amusing. She was not normally so … _curt_ with him. “But … I’m pretty sure I can call you whatever I want _right now_.”

“ ** _Libellula_** …” He grinned devilishly. “I assure you … _that_ is an offer that I have made to _none other_.”

Furrowing her nose again at the name, she repeated it. “Libellula … I don’t know though. It’s a mouthful.”

“Very well.” Quintus shifted under her again, rocking her slightly and enjoying the bounces that his flirtatious thrusts were sending throughout her curved body. “How about just _Lula_ then?”

She seemed to like this _even less_ and she shook her head dramatically. “ _That_ sounds like a _stripper’s_ name.”

“ _Mmmmmmm_.” He purred and then rattled as he clenched his fists under the tape again. “And so the conversation comes full circle.”

> _Now I yearn to_
> 
> _Follow you and_
> 
> _Everything I do_
> 
> _All those years in_
> 
> _Isolation_
> 
> _Helped me water you_
> 
> _Lead me to a_
> 
> _Place I’m free from_
> 
> _All the wrongs I do_

“How so?” She asked, genuinely confused and a bit intrigued.

“Back to the discussion on _stripping_ now. Are we not, _Lula_?” He grinned playfully.

Tapping the tip of the scissors against the shirt covering his sternum, she spoke softly as she traced the the metal down gently across his shirt-covered skin. “Are you saying you would like me to _strip you_ , General Sertorius?”

“I would like …” His eyes floated down to the scissors and then across to his taped hands, his curiosity piquing. “ _You to do what you wish._ ” He had taken all control away from her in this room and he _enjoyed_ seeing it return now. He relished in the strength that welled in her eyes as much as she was relishing in her own _perceived_ power.

Without words, she traced the tip of the sharp utensil down to the bottom of his shirt and his eyes grew wide as she opened them and began to cut the shirt in half, up the middle very slowly. Clenching his fists, he heard the tape began to give and he coaxed himself to relax as he bent up while she cut, hoping that she might lean far enough forward so that he might taste her lips.

When he was certain she was going to kiss him and their mouths were mere inches apart, she pulled away with a giggle as the cutting apparatus made it to the neck line and his shirt fell to either side of his ribs, exposing his chest to her fully.

The frustration of the teased kiss sent him into a fitful tantrum, as he collapsed onto the bed beneath her, but his grunt turned to a pur as her free hand glided across his now bare skin, brushing across his chest, nipples, and abdominals. _Had he ever loved being touched by something so much in his life?_ He was sure he hadn’t and he closed his eyes with the sensation of it all.

“Careful.” He warned again, opening his eyes as her fingers tantalized the flesh under the very edge of the top of his pants. “You are teasing an _animal_ , dragonfly.”

“But you told me to do what I want …” She licked her lips and he twitched at the site of it. _Damn this woman._ Staring at her mouth where her tongue had just grazed, he decided he would be biting _that_ spot very soon. “You can’t have it both ways. What do you want, General? Me to do what I want? Or me to do what _you_ want?”

“I was hoping …” He smiled. “That those two things might converge.”

He had told her to call him what she wished, but he wasn’t sure he liked it the first time she called him General, but this _second_ time, there was a flutter of butterflies in his stomach over it. She was using it to _bait him_ and it was a dangerous thing. Reminding him of a time when he was at his pinnacle of power _and_ control.

“Very well.” He leaned forward yet again. He wanted her hands. Her lips. Her body. He wanted her _underneath_ him. He wanted her _all around him_ , squeezing him, accepting him. _Every inch of her_. He wanted … “Do what you wish, but consider your actions carefully. Do not think there will be _no repercussions_. It _will_ be my turn at some point.”

“Repercussions?” She giggled as she dropped the scissors over the frame and they clanked heavily onto the ground below. Bending forward, her fingers gently tickled his bare skin as they found their way up to his shoulders, giving her leverage to hover close over his face and lips. When it seemed like she might be close enough for him to kiss, he attempted again and she pulled away, sitting up erect again.

Frustration mounted and he grunted at her refusal again. “Sucks doesn’t it?” She said through a smile-less expression as she glared down at him with utter seriousness.

“What?!” His voice was less than patient and he sneered the question. Was she asking if her _teasing_ sucked or if her lack of _action_ sucked? It _all_ sucked and he was wondering how much longer he could keep up the charade before he would simply take what he wanted.

“When someone refuses to … kiss you back.” The seriousness on her face suddenly made sense and he breathed carefully, falling back to rest on the thin mattress. She was referring to that _wretched_ night when he had refused _her lips_ , pulling away from her in the same manner each time her delicate mouth had sought his.

“Yes. It _is_ quite unpleasant.” He admitted guiltily as the sadness washed over both of them and he could see that the rejection of it _continued_ to sting her heart. “It was a _foolish_ action of a _cowardly_ man.”

“Whatever. _You_ aren’t a coward.” She seemed confused by his words. “I don’t even think you’re _capable_ of being a cow–”

“Believe what you will, _Lula_.” He sighed heavily, interrupting as he closed his eyes in a long blink before smiling at her simply. “Cowardly or _not_ , it is something I deeply regret. From the instant it happened, I have regretted it. Is it not something that you might be able to …” He looked up with pleading eyes. “Forgive?”

“Maybe.” She grinned a tiny bit and he was relieved that her over serious demeanour was beginning to fade. “But you’ll have to work at it, _General_.”

“Without doubt. In fact, if you would _release_ me …” He pulled at the tape as he asked. “I can begin to make it up to you _immediately_. And I assure you, neither of us will _regret_ my generosity in this matter.”

“ _Mmmmm_.” She smiled. “Not so fast.”

 

* * *

 

She leaned forward and actually kissed him. The noises that the act drew from his core sent apprehensive goosebumps across her entire body and the fact that _she_ was the one responsible for him _making_ these sounds only served to further intensify her growing excitement.

He purred, rattled and groaned in an animalistic and inhumanly way as his tongue darted past her lips, finding hers within, and danced with it. As he pushed deeper into her, she was instantly reminded that the length of it wasn’t _human_ and when it split apart inside, she moaned, but didn’t pull away from him.

This was the first time he used it in such a way as to affirm that he was _not fully_ human and he seemed to be quite adept at moving each fold of his tongue separately from the other as they slide across either side of hers and she felt the tip of her tongue brush across the underlying hardness of the stinger hidden within.

The sensation of her soft and moist flesh against his _strigoi anatomy_ seemed to shock even him as he pulled back quickly from the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes tightly and his body twitched dramatically.

“Forgive me.” With his eyes still closed, he apologized with shame. “It was not my intention for you to feel that. Forgive me.”

“We said _no apologies._ ” She snapped at him and her forceful tone caught him off guard. “Don’t _hide_ from me.” She said softly to him, cupping his cheeks between her palms as he opened his defeated eyes finally. “ _I know what you are._ You don’t need to hide from me.” Her eyes floated down from his face down and began to trace the swirls on his neck.

“Yes.” He bit. “I do. I am–”

“ _Lovely_.” Her interruption was absolute.

“I would prefer that you not attempt to _lie_ to me.” He scoffed at her statement dramatically as he breathed out deeply, looking off to the side and avoiding her hungry eyes. “I am well aware of what I am and I have _no_ need for you to try and convince me otherwise.”

“I’m not lying to you.” Pulling back from him, she stared down at his contorted face, confused by his anger and almost insulted at his statements of her being a _liar_. She pouted intensely. “I was trying–”

“I do not need your–” He cut her sentence short with with another angry sneer.

“STOP THAT!” She commanded as she roughly gripped his jaw, forcing his face back to stare deep into her eyes. “Don’t dismiss my words.”

“Then stop ly–”

“That’s not fair at all.” She interrupted him _again,_ but softly this time. “You called _me_ lovely and I didn’t call you a liar.”

“What?” He asked as confusion replaced his anger, his brow furrowing slightly with contention. “This is clearly _not_ the same.”

“I let _you_ call me lovely.” She reiterated. “Even though I think it’s a _lie_.”

“Gah!” His body flexed under her as his frustration began to mount. “It was _not_ a lie. _It is not the same!_ ” He growled fiercely showing his teeth as he clenched his jaw tight with annoyance.

“Why not?!” She demanded, not releasing his face that he fought to pull back from her grip.

“Do not be _ridiculous!_ ” He said menacingly. “ _You are lovely!_ ” Jiggling the metal frame with more force than he had shown before, the bed creaked under their weight. She wasn’t entirely sure it would withstand his burgeoning anger as he bucked under her again as she was _yet again_ reminded of his unabating arousal. “Release me and I will _show_ you **_exactly_** how lovely you are to me.”

“You’re lovely.” She repeated, ignoring his anger. “To me … _you are beautiful._ ” He writhed under her, shaking his head from side to side as if he were a child.

“ _Please_.” He begged as it was obvious her words were nothing short of torture to him. He clenched his jaw and showed his teeth to her as he growled. “Stop.”

“Why do you hate this so much?”

“Because it is a lie. I do not need it. There is _no need_ for your … “ His defensive words trailed off as she saw him reconsidering the word which lingered on his tongue and he decided not to utter whatever it was.

"My what?” She pressed.

“It does not matter.” He said sternly as he pouted dramatically. “Release me now. I am no longer amused by any of this.”

“Tell me. My _what_?” She pressed again and he only stared up into her eyes with quiet defiance. “My love?”

“No.” He shook his head, unwilling to relent what was in his mind. “That is _not_ what I meant. Please release me now.”

Ignoring his request, she pressed again. “My what then?”

“Please. I did not mean …”

His eyes plead with hers for reprieve but she pushed harder, her tone becoming forceful. “ _My what???_ ”

“Manipulation.” He admitted, falling back into the mattress in completely surrender.

“Manipulation?” She scoffed, confused by it. “You think I’m trying to _manipulate_ you? For what purpose?” He had no answer as shame washed over him. “I find you lovely.” She repeated _his words in the cabin_ back to him and he turned his face from her. Grasping his chin, she turned it back as she smiled at him. As she smiled _to him_. As she smiled _because of him_. “Don’t dismiss me or assume I have some hidden agenda. I accepted your words, because I _felt_ you believed them. Was I wrong? Were they lies? Were you _manipulating me?_ ”

“No! Absolutely not.” Quintus rolled his head in a circle as he often did when he was frustrated with everything about him. “They _are_ the truth. _You are lovely._ ”

The seriousness of the situation lightened as she bit her lip again and his attention was focused on the teeth as they gently pressed against the flesh of her lower lip. He watched intently at this gesture and his eyes never moved from her mouth as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

“So strong. So powerful.” She purred and kissed again. “Always in control. Always stoic.” As she rubbed her nose against his, he smiled finally. “Who knew such a simple word could be your weakness …”

“Mmmmmm.” He grunted as he pressed her forehead against his. “I have _many_ weaknesses, dragonfly …”

“ ** _He_** _walks in beauty, like the night …”_ She stared and his eyes grew wide. It was one of her _most favorite_ poems by one of her _most favorite_ poets. She was actually quite a sucker for the romantic shit. And with another kiss, her grip moved down from his chin as her fingers began to brush his swirls so delicately that he twitched violently.

“ ** _Libellula_**.” He gasped a warning.

 _“Of cloudless climes and starry skies …”_ She continued onto the next verse as her hands worked across the most delicate pink flesh of his tender neck and the torture of it was apparent, as he writhed in delectable agony.

“DO NOT.” He advised as he jerked from her unrelenting caress. “STOP.”

 _“And all that’s best of_ **_dark_** _and_ **_bright_** …” She lowered her mouth to the area where her fingers played as she spoke the verse across his neck. Even the feeling of her breath seemed to be misery on this part of his _inhumanly_ sensitive anatomy.

“ _PLEASE_.” He begged and she heard the tape squeaking as his body’s increasing tension.

 _“Meet in_ **_his_** _aspect and_ **_his_** _eyes … ”_ The words danced from her memory as she carefully changed each pronoun to match _him_.

“ _Nnnnnnnnnnggggrllll_ ” The growl was loud and his fists were tight. When her lips touched the swirled skin, the sound that escaped his throat was first a groan, but ended in an animalistic roar that sent a shiver down her spine, but she wasn’t frightened of him and her lips pressed to him again before she spoke the next verse, ending this kiss with a brushing of her slick tongue. This skin was incredibly hot, far warmer than the rest of his body and it was _very soft_ against her mouth, its texture reminding her of that tender uncut skin that surrounded his _member_.

“ _Thus mellowed to that tender light …_ ”

As she pulled back from her torment, she smirked at his fierce and bewildered face. His eyes were wide with what she _assumed_ was anger, but as a mischievous smile began to spread across his mouth, he furrowed his nose at her as if he was a wolf.

“ _Which_ **_heaven_** _to gaudy day denies._ ” As this final verse she uttered rolled off her tongue, she swore she heard the sound of the tape rip _after_ she felt his torso come up erect on the bed and his hands gripped the pony tail in the back of her head. She squeaked a small chirp of surprise over what had just occurred and his devilish smile widened.

“ ** _You were warned._** ” He chortled, pulling her hair back to expose her neck to him and he uttered two more words before he bit. “ ** _My turn._**


	35. 5.1 - Descent

_As they approached the beginning of the final descent_ , Dawn stared out the window and over Italy. She felt a certain sense of excitement over being back. When she had been alone in that factory for all those months, she thought about Rome often but she had resolved that she would _never_ see it again.

Sitting in _that_ cafe and sipping the best espresso she had ever had in her entire life, was a memory so distant that she assumed any change to experience it again was lost forever, but now, as they were told to buckle their seat belts, she stared out across the city with growing awe.

Whatever excitement she felt quickly faded away as she remembered Quintus and how he had spoken to her about it, the passion and love that laced his voice when he had described it to her. How he had confessed that he would have wanted nothing more than to show her it.

“Don’t dwell on that right now.” EL said calmly from the seat across from her, also staring out his window with the same childish awe. He claimed to have _seen_ the city through the minds of the souls that passed through his _gates_ , but he had never seen it first hand and right now he was enjoying it as much as she was. “I preferred it when you were excited.”

“Why do you care what I dwell on?” She snapped and Thomas looked up from across the aisle at her sudden words, trying to gauge if she was talking to him or not.

“Because I feel _everything_ you do.” He admitted as he grinned. “ _Yesterday_ is dead, remember? Focus on tomorrow.”

“I am.” She lied as she sighed and looked out the window again as the plane glided closer and closer to the city below.

“IS IT SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE THIS?” Thomas shrieked again from across the aisle and as she turned to face him, she laughed. He was _still_ scratching at the outside of his biceps and whining about the mark that had been tattooed underneath his shirt. “I DO NOT THINK IT IS SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE THIS!!!” He called out over the jet engines again and EL began to chuckle with Dawn.

“It’s _your_ blood.” The archangel explained to _only_ her. “The divinity in it burns his accursed flesh.”

Dawn glared at The Shiny Man as he continued to rub his right bicep fiercely and she smiled before turned back to look out the window. “ _Good_.” She found his torment quite pleasing, however _this_ wasn’t quite as enjoyable as when Thomas had gotten the mark to begin with. He writhed in agony, screaming like a child as the blood laced ink burned and branded his strigoi flesh. At one point, she even had to hold him down so the tattoo artist could finish up the last of the design.

Before leaving Philadelphia, they managed to find a single tattoo parlor still operating and she was relieved. The symbol that Thomas had cut into her flesh had already started to heal and she didn’t want to have to bear that pain _again_ , especially not from his _fucking_ hands. 

> After the overly muscular artist had finished with the symbol on her, EL had pointed to Eichhorst and said. “Now do him.”
> 
> “Do the same symbol on him.” She commanded and Thomas looked up, confused.
> 
> “Oh no. I don’t require it. I will be fine.” The Nazi had tried but she shook her head at his refusal.
> 
> “You want _Michael_ to be able to find you again?” She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. She swiped quite a bit of cash from Dutch’s room before she fled the island initially. “If he can find _you_ , he can find **_us_**.” She meant to say ‘ _me_ ’, but saying ‘ _us_ ’ was so very natural as she accepted she was _never_ alone. _Never alone_ and _never_ **_mad_**.
> 
> “My dear.” Thomas tried again, whispering so the artist couldn’t hear him. “He will see my blood–”
> 
> “I assume we can count on your discretion?” She interrupted the Nazi’s cowardly argument, turning to the giant man as she flicked five bills out of her stack and the artist’s eyes grew wide. When he said nothing immediately, she raised her eyebrows as she flicked five more out and the man nodded. He would need proper motivation to give a white-blooded man a tattoo.
> 
> “Sure. Whatever you say lady.” The artist said taking the ten bills that she handed over to him. “Discretion, whatever. What’s your dad want then?”
> 
> “Dad?!” Thomas scoffed and Dawn both chuckled _and_ cringed at the thought. “I am _not_ her father!”
> 
> “Same as me … wherever he wants it. Just make it quick.” She said.
> 
> “One more thing …” EL chimed in from behind her. She closed her eyes in frustration as it would be _so much easier_ if he just told her everything up front instead of trickling information to her at _his_ discretion. “Have him add _your blood_ to the ink.”
> 
> The artist stood, making his way into the back room as he began to get his equipment ready and sterilized for the next mark. She spun around to eye EL. “Why the hell do I have to do that?”
> 
> EL smiled. “These are glyphs of divine power. They _only_ work if they are powered by the exalted blood of a Hayyoth.”
> 
> “ _Hayyoth_. Right. Whatever that means again.”
> 
> “Hayyoth are the Four Living Beings, my dear.” Thomas whispered lowly as he begrudgingly took off his outer coat, folding it carefully and laying it gingerly on an empty seat. “The first of the angels. The first four creatures in existence.” He looked around in fear as he immediately corrected himself. “Pardon me, sir … _five_ actually.”
> 
> EL approached Thomas, eyeing him aggressively even though the Nazi couldn’t see it. “Don’t listen to this fool. I’ll tell you everything. _But first_ , focus on **_this_**.”
> 
> As the artist returned, she flicked three more one hundred dollar bills out and handed them to him.
> 
> “What’s this for?”
> 
> “There’s one more thing …” She cringed as she said it. “Do you have any syringes?” She fucking _hated_ needles.

The moment before the plane’s wheels touched the ground, she look down at the mark that now graced her right inner wrist. She requested it be placed there, exactly where her _grandfather_ had branded her before. It seemed like a fitting location and now she found herself rubbing it, just as she had done with the last glyph. It didn’t burn or itch as it did with Thomas, but she still _felt_ it nevertheless. It hummed with a noise similar to the book and she stared down at the symbol, listening to its song as she traced its intricateness with the very tip of her index finger. _This_ symbol was far more complex than her first.

She outlines the nearly rectangular shape before her fingers brushed the beautiful and looping shape in the center of it. A serpent, arched in a perfect circle consuming its own tail.

EL had called it _Ouroboros_.

 ** _The Mark of Obfuscation_**.

 

* * *

 

The overly tall and alluring stewardess exited the plane directly ahead of them, pulling her perfect little rolling suitcase behind she as she walked down the ramp in her ridiculously high heels. She was already tall enough and there was _no need_ to make herself taller, but _this_ woman conformed to her social contract perfectly. So perfectly in fact, that when she stepped onto the tarmac below, a middle-aged, brown-haired man stepped forward and thrust his hand out _to her_.

“Diana, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” She recognized this voice immediately as the overly straightforward and rude man from the phone. “I am _Mister_ Ferraro.”

The woman looked remarkably confused, staring down at his hand for a moment before opting to simple continue walking away without any response. Dawn smiled as she stepped out from behind her.

“Nice to meet you too.” The short woman said with disdain and the dark haired man looked even more confused as he stared _down_ at her as his offered hand retreated back to his side limply.

“Oh … Di–”

“ _Dawn_.” She corrected him as she thrust her hand towards him and his brows furrowed. “I’m going by _Dawn_ now.”

“Oh, umm …” He spun around and looked at the stewardess again before turning back to stare down at the tiny, spiky-haired woman. He was at least a foot taller than her and he rubbed the very clean cut beard on his face before speaking down **_at_** her. “Pardon my confusion. I am sorry. You are not **_at all_** what I was expecting.”

Even from her intentionally brief conversations on the phone with him, she knew he was far from the most _tactful_ man on the planet but this was so very _beyond_ rude. Indeed, she was _not_ what he was expecting and she could have guessed as much, even before she had cut off every inch of her hair. At least it seemed to be growing back incredibly fast and it was now at least a few inches past the buzz she gave herself weeks before.

Once she stopped eating unnecessarily, EL was right, as he usually was, and within a week the extra weight had melted away entirely. She was eating once every other day or so and her body had struck some natural optimal balance. But regardless of her weight loss, she still wasn’t what he had _expected_ someone like _Quintus_ would have _chosen_ because she wasn’t, as she was always made aware, _a beautiful woman_. Not like the gorgeous stewardess that he had _expected_. _That woman_ was a woman that a _millionaire_ would choose, right? The continued disappointed look on Ferraro’s face lit a fire within her and she found herself glaring at him.

“Wow. Humanity is a piece of fucking work, isn’t it? _What an ass_. Oh boy.” She heard EL clap his hands behind her and rub them together as _he felt_ her anger mounting. “This is gonna be _fucking_ good.”

“And what exactly were you expecting, **_Mister_** _Ferraro_?” She asked, her hand still outstretched in an offer for him to shake it and he looked down at it sheepishly, considering the gesture carefully. Did he not even want to consider _touching_ her?

“It is not an insult, ma’am.” He tried. “I just mean, well … _realistically_ , I was _expecting_ someone …”

His sentence trailed off as he finally reached out to grip her hand. Many words danced across her mind, mulling over how he might have wanted to finish the sentence but when their skin touched, she gasped as she _heard_ the words leak from his quiet mind and bubble over into _hers_. Words that he would _never_ utter out loud, but somehow, when they touched, she was privy to them.

 _Tall. Slender. Posh. Attractive. Sexy. Elegant. … Beautiful_.

She scowled at this man as she looked him up and down in his tailored suit. Her eyes glanced over every superficial aspect of him and she began to _judge_ him. His manicured hands and salon styled hair and well trimmed beard. His fancy watch and his unnecessary tie and his thousand dollar shoes.

She found herself starting to grin as she started to feel sorry for him and how ridiculously blind he was. She was so very much more than just a face or a body or a _trophy_. She was a mind of unimaginable creativity. She was a soul of unfathomable willpower. She was the embodiment of defiance itself.  And god-fucking-damnit, she was so fucking sick and tired of men, who were so obviously beneath her in _every respect_ judging **_her_**.  When her smirk turned devilish, he tried to pull his hand back and she tightened her grip.

She wasn’t a violent person, not at all, but she _knew_ at this point in time, she needed to squash whatever doubts this man had in her. Unfortunately, she would need him and just like he feared Quintus, he would _need_ to fear her as well. In this moment, he doubted who she claimed to be.

As she justified the pain she was about to inflict on him, she told herself that was why. _That_ and also … _she fucking hated men like him._

“Tall? Slender?” She started to repeat the words from his mind as her grip tightened even further and his eyes grew wide with confusion while she continued. “Attractive? Posh?”

“Ma’am, I did not mean to impl–” He tried to pull his hand back, but … she was so much stronger than he was, much to _his_ surprise.

“Sexy? Elegant?” She hesitated on saying the last one, as it hurt the worst. He said _realistically_ , and she felt stung by that. Was it so unrealistic that someone of such incredible perceived power and wealth as Quintus could ever … _would ever_ … desire someone like her? “ ** _Beautiful_**?” She sneered the last question as she began to tighten his hand to the point of causing pain. “Or how about Plastic? Fake? Hollow?”

“Pardon me. I did not mean to imply–”

“No. None of _those words_ are right, _are they_?” She wouldn’t break him, but she needed to scare him at the very least. EL snickered from behind as the man’s face began to contort with misery and he came down to a single knee, surrendering to the strength of her angelic grip.

“I am sorry.” He huffed with shock, now staring _up_ into her _lovely yet terrifying fucking_ eyes.

“I’ve got a word for you. _How about …”_ She smirked as she leaned forward and she could smell the perspiration beading up across his forehead. “ ** _Special? Or … different. Unique._** ” When she had uttered the last one, something seemed to snap open inside of her, but she knew it wasn’t really a _snap_ per se. It was more like a kindling and she felt something dance across the whites of her eyes, but she had no idea what it was. If she could have seen through Antonio’s eyes, she would have seen the faintest glint of green lightning flash across them.

Releasing her grip, he stumbled up and back before regaining his composure at once and straightening his suit carefully. 

“ _Very good_.” He shook his hand carefully, massaging it with care. “ _Forgive my absurdity_.”

“Are you sure we’re _good_ , **_Mister_** _Ferraro_?” She asked and Antonio creaked his neck to the right as he nodded and his heart rate began to slow back to its normal rate as he continued to rub his hand one more time. “Please. It is _just_ Antonio.”

“Now … take _us_ home.” She waved to Thomas who walked down the ramp conspicuously behind her, with his daylight attire covering all of his skin, tugging their luggage as he came.

As they piled into a massive black SUV with overly tinted windows, they began their journey across the city and she stared out, still in awe and sadness of being in Rome. Her entire body shook, almost vibrating, from whatever had just occurred and she clenched her fists in an attempt to regain control of her composure as she breathed in and out slowly.

“He’s wrong, you know.” EL said simply as he leaned back into the seat beside her.

“Wrong about what?” She asked towards Thomas but the _Shiny Man_ already knew she wasn’t talking to him. He was getting used to her _half conversations_ and he ignored the question as he continued to rub his arm.

“ _You are_ **_beautiful_**.” He smiled as he nudged her with his arm. “You are one of the most _beautiful_ things I’ve ever seen … and … trust me. I’ve seen _a lot of things_.”

Much like Quintus, she never really understood how to accept a compliment and as she stared at his rainbow eyes, she decided to just accept his words with a smile and a single nod. She didn’t trust him, but at that moment, he spoke the truth and she could _feel_ it.

“And …” EL said calmly. “It’s not his fault _really_.”

“What’s not his fault?” She threw an angry look towards the front seat where Mr. Ferraro sat.

“They were made _to fear_ us, Aurora. It’s in their _very being_.” He shrugged. “From the moment you were born, you’ve felt that.”

“Is that why I have no friends?” She chuckled lowly as a fake smile darted across her face. “I thought I was just _unlikeable_.”

“Well … you are.” EL nodded. “Just not for the reasons you’ve always assumed.”

 

* * *

 

She wasn’t paying enough attention as the SUV spun around the buildings to realize where in the city they were yet and she found herself completely lost in thought when they rounded the final corner and barrelled down into an underground garage.

Ferraro opened the door for her, and then Thomas, as they exited the vehicle and made their way to the underground entrance. She felt a level of apprehension she wasn’t used to and she found herself holding her breath as they stood in front of the elevator while Antonio used a keycard to trigger access to it.

“The building belongs to Mr. Serto–” He halted his sentence and corrected it. “The building belongs to the Sertorius family. There are six levels. Level one through three are high-end inhabited flats. If you will be staying with us, yours is on level five.” As the doors opened and they entered, he used the card again and punched in a four digit number before handing it to her. “We can have any number you wish programmed in. Mr. Sertorius used 0064. It is also his number for the stairwell access, as he _never_ uses the elevator.”

“It’s fine. I’ll use his number.” She said, but felt compelled to ask. “Any idea of its significance?”

“Mr. Sertorius wasn’t one to share much of … well … _anything_.” Antonio shrugged. “I could not even venture a guess.”

EL spoke up. “It was the year his _wife_ and _daughter_ were murdered.”

Furrowing her nose, she sighed. “Actually, I’ll take another number after all.”

“Very good.” Antonio said. “When I introduce you to the security staff, remind me.”

As they passed the third floor, Dawn’s curiosity got the better of her. “You said levels one to three. What’s on four and six then?”

Ferraro smiled. “Mr. Sertorius’ flat is … quite spacious. It covers the three floors. I imagine you will find it to your liking. There is much room for you and your … _friend_.” Ferraro shot a glance back towards Thomas, who had remained silent the entire trip. Pulling his large hat down across his face, he looked ridiculous being so _over_ clothed, but she smiled, as she was sure they were used to this. Quintus likely left the build in such attire as well.

“How did you manage to remain so … unscathed from the infection?” Thomas _finally_ spoke.

“Mr. Sertorius ensured that this building was quite … _formidable_ against exactly such an attack.” Antonio smiled. “We are all alive because of it. Because of _him_.”

When the doors finally opened, they were met with a white concrete hallway, which led to a single metal door. The door itself was entirely devoid of all characteristics. She was a bit surprised there wasn’t even a peep hole drilled in it, but she spied a video camera in the corner of the ceiling, pointed down at the door. Checking the other corner, she saw another and looking down the hall, two more. All angles in the hallways were covered.

Antonio watched her eyes and chuckled. “He is quite paranoid.”

“For good reason.” Flashing Thomas a dirty look, the Nazi shrugged simply as Ferraro pulled a large bundle of keys out of his pocket, fiddling a large and ominous looking one free of the metal circle as he used it to unlock the door. He pulled another key free, using it to unlock the deadbolt before he handed them both over to her and began to retreat back to the direction of the elevator.

“Please just let me know when you wish to meet the security staff and I will return.” He said as he walked not bothering to turn back around to face them until he reached the elevator. “It was hoped that the gentleman would be accompanying you and as such, it was … _fully restocked_. We were unsure of what you might require, so please let me know should you need anything additional.” He smiled and nodded to her. “Ma’am.”

“You’ll just be waiting around then?” She asked confused and he nodded.

“I am always around. It was preferred that way. My family and I live on the second level.” He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button but before the doors shut, he smiled. “He likes to maintain control over those he has determined are important to him.”

 _Ain’t that the truth_. She laughed internally.

Once the man was gone, she turned back to the shut door and paused for an agonizing moment as anxiety flooded over her. As she took a deep breath in, Thomas grew impatient and reached for the handle. She smacked his hand away immediately as if he was a child.

“My dear. Please.” The _Shiny Man_ giggled. “Will we wait out here all day then?”

“No. No. No.” She sighed deeply. “I got this.” Her hand shook nervously as it gripped the dark cold metal handle, turning it until it clicked and as she pushed the door fully open, she was immediately hit with Quintus’ smell.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, it was exactly as she had pictured it in her mind. Clean, neat, minimalist, and entirely dust free, but it was very, _very … white_. The floors were marble and there were also pillars of marble erected in various places throughout the architecture. Even the counter was white marble.

“Good lord. It is very … _white_.” Thomas chuckled slightly as he stole the very words from her mind. “Given his choice of attire, I would have imagined something a bit different.”

“Like what?” She laughed. He apparently didn’t know Quintus at all.

“I am not sure.” He shrugged innocently. “Perhaps something _darker?_ More … _rustic?_ ”

“Well, he was _Roman_.” She said and her use of the past tense caused her to pause as she corrected herself sternly. “ ** _Is. He is Roman._** ” Everything that wasn’t marble was stainless steel or a very light ash colored wood and the walls were very subtle gray venetian plaster with an occasional painting hung _here_ and _there_.

The living area itself expanded the two upper floors and a balcony that she could see above likely fed to the bedroom. She spied a spiral staircase in the corner that led both _up_ and _down_. Thomas pulled their bags into an open space and left them there as he began his own exploration, heading to the kitchen immediately as he opened the fridge.

“ ** _Mein Gotte_**!” He choked as he flung the door open wide enough for her to see that it was _completely_ full of blood bags. [“Das ist das Schönste, was ich je gesehen habe.”](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fde%2FThis%2520is%2520the%2520most%2520beautiful%2520thing%2520I%2520have%2520ever%2520seen.&t=NzkxY2JiNmVhNDYwZDA1NmVhZmZhNzQ3Njg2YTk5YmIwNGEyMWQ0MSxkRks1TkVSMw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160640361268%2Fchapter-51-descent&m=1)

Dawn watched in horror as he did not hesitate to pull a bag free and bite into it immediately, squeezing the contents into his mouth as drops squished out and hit the floor. She hadn’t seen him _eat_ since they started and she _nearly_ felt guilt over that, but that _almost_ feeling washed away as she remembered who he was.

“Hey!” She pointed to the pristine white floors. “What are you? A fucking caveman? USE A GLASS. And wipe that shit up.”

Thomas pulled back, almost embarrassed by his uncontrollable hunger and nodded. “Sorry. Sorry.”

As he began to pull open the cabinets to comply with her instruction, she went back to her own exploration. Walking past everything, she touched it timidly with the tip of her middle finger as she was hesitant to disturb _any_ of his things. She wanted to leave everything precisely as it was. There wasn’t _much_ , but she expected him to be a bit of a minimalist after all.

The middle floor was the living area. A large and open living room with massive windows, floor to ceiling across all the walls. This aspect actually reminded her of his condo and she understood it was on purpose. He liked the openness. He liked feeling like he was a part of the world around him.

The living room itself had no television, no electronics, only a simple and massive white bricked fireplace. Wood was stacked carefully to the side of it, and she was reminded of how he had lit the fire in the cabin, making an impressive structure out of the wood. Joy _and_ sadness over the memory of that day flooded into her, and she bit back the tears that _almost_ welled in her eyes. She hadn’t cried for _months_ and she wasn’t about to now.

“What?” She turned and eyed EL, who was standing uncharacteristically quiet at the door. “No smart ass remarks? No rushing?”

“No. I know you’ve been looking forward to _this_.” He smiled as he waved his arms at the surrounding _white_ space. “I’m trying not to ruin it for you.” Leaning up against the frame, he crossed his arms patiently.

 _Looking forward to this?_ It was actually more like she had been dreading it.

Across from the fireplace, there was a single long couch and a bare metal table in front of it. As she walked by, she ran her fingers over the back of the fabric and found it soft to the touch. Some kind of microfiber likely.

Meandering into the kitchen, she passed Thomas who had discovered a glass and was quickly pouring the red viscous liquid into it. The kitchen, with its marble counters and white cabinets, had _only_ a fridge and a sink. There was no stove, oven, dishwasher, _or_ microwave and she smirked. _Of course he didn’t need those things_.

She ventured up the stairs and halfway up the winding accent, his smell intensified. As she approached the loft style bedroom above, _his smell_ became more clear and her heart lurched a bit from it. _Leather, metal, and oil._ She had always assumed the metal part of that combination had been from his weapons, but when they were together and only his body was present, she had realized the scent was coming directly from his flesh.

Now she even smelled it wafting everywhere around the area. As she entered the bedroom, she noticed a number of paintings on the walls and as she approached one of them, she did a double-take at the signature across the canvas.

 _Holy shit. No._ She looked again as her hand covered her mouth. _Yes_. That is what is says. What the fuck were _these_ doing just _hanging_ in some random flat in Rome?! She shook off the shock of that thought as she realized … Quintus wasn’t one to be trifled with. If there were _any_ would be thieves, they likely wouldn’t have lived very long.

As she walked by the large bed, she could tell _that_ was where the majority of his scent was emanating from. She fought the urge to pull back the cream colored blanket and immerse herself in its sheets within and she walked to the doorway in the far wall, forcing herself to continue her exploration.

A large, marble bathroom. There was a toilet but no toilet paper and she furrowed her nose, making a mental note to ask Ferraro for _that_ at the very least. Well, _that_ and some human food too. There was another large metal door on the the far end of the massive bathroom and as she approached it, she could see the keypad next to it.

A first, she jiggled the handle, hoping it would be open but no such luck. She turned to the number pad and punched in what she assumed would work: “0064” But the red light illuminated and something beeped negatively at her. As she stared down at it, she nearly jumped two feet straight in the air when EL suddenly spoke from her right side.

“Try ‘0618’.”

Grabbing at her chest as she tried to calm the sudden shock of his arrival, he started to snicker as she shot him an exasperated and terrified look. “ _FUCK MY LIFE. DUDE, THAT WAS_ **_SO_** _NOT COOL._ ”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He put his hand to his chest apologetically. “I thought you called me.”

She punched in the numbers and the light illuminated green as it clicked unlocked and she pushed the door open. Before she walked into the dark interior, she asked. “0618?”

“Good guess eh? The day his family died.” EL said before he was gone again, doing what he promised earlier and leaving her to herself to explore in peace.

 **0618\.  0064.** **06/18/64.**   She frowned as it was obvious in this moment how important they were to him. After all of these years, he still thought about them _daily_. Each time he punched in those numbers … _Them_. For the first time since she started on the journey, she paused as a thought skipped across her mind. _Was he with them now?_ He was in _Heaven_ … and if it existed, then _he was with them_ , wasn’t he?  Was she being _selfish_?

She shook the thought from her mind and stepped into the darkness of the room. Her eyes would have adjusted quickly, but she found a light switch to the right and once she flicked it on, the reality of the situation bombarded her and the tears that she had fought to keep at bay not only filled her eyes, but immediately spilled over and streamed down her spotted cheeks.

 _His smell was everywhere in this room_ and as she stared at the impressively large closet within, she walked as she cried, tracing her fingers across the sleeves of _his jackets_. They were all _exactly_ the same and there were at least twenty of them, all hung meticulously and exactly the same way. The next rack, the same shirt, his purplish black, long sleeved, and V-necked shirt. Same size, same material, all hung exactly the same way. There were at least forty of them and then his pants, all the exact same.  His vests.

In the drawers of cabinets across the close wall, she found belts. All the same belt, at least twenty of them, all spiraled and ready for use. The next drawer, belt buckles. She was shocked to see that they weren’t _all_ identical, but they were obviously the same silver style.  Another drawer, his gloves and the last his socks.  His boots, all the same, with the same metal spurs on the back of them and she found herself both crying and laughing at the uniformity of it all. He obviously didn’t diverge from what he liked often.

Turning her attention to the metal cabinets spread across the far wall, she opened them was greeted with precisely what she expected. The cabinets were just like they had been in that cold bunker he had hidden them in below that underpass.

The cabinet was completely full of ammunition, extra leather sheaths, _and_ holsters, and at least ten of the micro uzi submachines that Quintus was so fond of carrying. It wasn’t the guns that caught her attention immediately, but the weapon that rested on the middle shelf, carefully laying atop a thick towel. She gasped slightly as she reached out for it, delicately grabbing the bone handle as she pulled the sword out. It was _exactly_ like his other one and she found herself crying even harder.

She stood in absolute silence as she stared around at all of his things and she breathed his scent in deeply as the tears continued to trail down her face. Finally, she urged herself out of the closet and when she made it back to the bedroom, she was unable to stop herself as she pulled the blanket down and his smell hit her squarely in the face.

Collapsing against the mattress, she curled herself into a ball as she pulled the sword tightly against her chest. She hated herself right now. She needed to be strong. She needed to be focused, but in this instant, she gave in to her grief and EL’s words danced across the memory of her mind. 

> _“Why are we here, Aurora? What do you want?”_

In this moment of complete weakness, she buried her face into his pillow and into his scent and she wept harder than she ever had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a reminder for today’s chapter. Quinlan has dual bone swords. Its canon.
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	36. 5.2 - Descent

He was glad when he was completely out wretched building. All of the smells and noises bombarded his heightened senses and made him cringe as he walked out onto the crowded street. True, he’d partaken of such debaucherous paradises before. According to his _Poet_ , thousands of times before, but something within him was turned off by even the thought of it now. He mulled over how the dark-eyed prophet had described his change in sexuality and he realized that it was _this_ fundamental difference now that drove his overwhelming disgust.

Taking a deep breath of the outside air, he wished to be back in the less _crowded_ parts of Heaven and when he turned to take his _immediate_ leave, a distinct feeling of being watched washed over him.

Looking out across the street and sea of people, he spied a pair of blue eyes watching him. At first, Quintus looked away quickly as he realized he had forgotten to put replace his facade and they were likely staring at his monstrosity. Bowing his head down below the people around him, he made himself entirely human again and took a few steps out of view before he brought his head back up and found the tall woman _still_ staring directly at him. 

There was something uniquely familiar about her thought she was absolutely unremarkable to him and he found himself staring back at her intently, never breaking the gaze as he rolled his memories back in his mind. He had _seen_ her before. She was wholly indistinguishable in every way, completely generic as far as he would judge a woman. Her face perfectly feminine and delicate, her eyes a dull blue, her skin was completely without flaw or blemish. Her body was too slender, her breasts average and her cheeks gaunt. Her hair was straight long and brown, parted near the middle of her head as it flowed over her shoulders.

The only characteristic that he felt made her stand out at all was the fact that she was _quite_ tall. Even from this distance, that was obvious. Her head was at least a few inches taller than most of those who stood around her. Her erect and entirely motionless stance caught him off guard, it was strange as _every_ other person on the street was animated, either dancing with the music bombarding the area or by stumbling from the intoxication with various drinks. Everyone except the two of them as they eyed each other carefully.

His mind stuttered for a moment. He had actually _seen_ this woman before, hadn’t he? If his memory served him correctly, she had stared at him _then_ too. But many being in Heaven had stared at him in the beginning. But this woman … there was something strange about her and how she looked at him. Then _and_ now. _Where had it been exactly?_ His mind replayed his time in Heaven over and over again and he _finally_ remembered as he stared back to her.

She was in Elysian, standing across the square from his ex-wife’s tea shop. She stared at him when Hathų led him sneakily into that awkwardly planned situation. _This woman_ gave away no emotion _then_ as she refused to do now, only looking at him coldly as his mind itched further with curiosity.

That wasn’t all of it and he realized now, he’d seen her _somewhere_ else as well … _hadn’t he? Yes. Focus Quintus._ Where was it? _Was she following him?_ He could stand here and they could stare at each other for eternity or … he might as well just ask her, since she was quite keen on him at the moment. As she remained still, he took a step forward stepping onto the street and began to move towards her direction.

“Quintus?” A voice from behind him and his attention immediately diverted to the calm and reserved man who stoically stood next to him. Quintus looked at the purple eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the other side of the street to find the woman was entirely gone. Looking up and down the block from where she stood, he could not spy her anywhere.

Raphael looked across the way as he followed Quintus’ investigative eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No.” The dhampir shook his head, finally turning to face the archangel with his full attention. “I thought I saw someone.”

There was a strange moment of silence as the archangel stared at the meaningless crowd, seemingly lost in the area on which Quintus had been focused. His brows furrowed every so slightly as he stared with wonder and Quintus spoke up, acknowledging his presence verbally. “Raphael.”

> _I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping_
> 
> _While my guitar gently weeps_
> 
> _I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping_
> 
> _Still my guitar gently weeps_
> 
> _I don’t know how nobody told you how to unfold your love_
> 
> _I don’t know how someone controlled you_

“I will admit. I actually did not expect to see you _here_ of all places.” Raphael smiled as he waved a hand to the building from which Quintus just exited.

“Ah. _Yes_. Here. I did not expect to find myself _here_ either.” Quintus looked around, shifting with evolving embarrassment. “I was just here to visit _an old friend_.”

“You don’t say, huh? An _old friend_?” Raphael smiled widely, showing his canines as he raised a suggestive eyebrow. Quintus was certain the archangel _nearly_ winked at him also.

He shook his head fiercely. “NO. _NO_. That is not what I meant.” He reaffirmed his NO as his hand went up to shake in unison with his head and convey the extreme absurdity of _that_ notion. “ _Absolutely not that_. I was here to see … _my … mother_.” She was _not_ his mother, but he was unsure what title to bestow upon her now. She was _never_ his mother. She had in fact been _his keeper_. His _manipulator_.

“What?” This reveal seemed to confuse Raphael at once as he looked at Quintus with profound innocence. “Honoria is … _here?_ ”

“NO. **_NO_**. _Definitely_ **_not_** _Honoria_.” He shook his head again profusely. “ _Ancharia_. My adoptive mother.”

“Ah. Good.” Raphael’s hand came up to his chest as he smiled with relief. “I was about to say … I would be shocked to see someone like _Honoria_ at a place such as _this_.”

Carefully looking over the archangel, Quintus could see that Raphael was a bit more _relaxed_ here than he was before. There was an air of leisure about him. “Yes, I think it would be a bit … _uncharacteristic_ of her to be here … However, if you will forgive any possible insult, I would have thought the _same_ about _you_ actually.”

Raphael smirked as he turned to face the balcony upon which Quintus had seen him and his brother earlier. As he glanced up he noted that Gabriel was still standing at the railing, glaring down to him. “My brother likes it here. He enjoys _this_ atmosphere.”

“And you?” Quintus asked. “Do you enjoy it?”

“I am _much_ easier to please than he is, and he is easier for me to deal with when he is _pleased_."” Raphael turned, waving a hand down the sidewalk. “Will you walk with me for a bit?”

Quintus complied with his polite request and as they walked down the sidewalk, he scowled at the amber-eyed angel who watched from his perch above. He _knew_ the angel was listening to the entire conversation from above, even at this distance.

"And you seem to care quite a bit about his happiness.” Quintus said, to which Raphael nodded in reply. “It does not seem that Michael has the same concern for him as you do.”

“He is my _Other_. Hayyoth were made to exist in pairs.” Raphael reiterated something that Quintus had already been told several times. “While, he is exactly my opposite in many ways at the same time he is exactly my _complement_.”

“But it is not the same with your other siblings?”

“I love _Michael_ and _Ozryel_ , but I am bound to _Gabriel._ ” Raphael confessed with warmth. “It is often speculated that we are two halves, made from the same divine soul.”

“You are saying he is your soul-mate?” Quintus laughed a bit as he said it, finding even the consideration of this concept amusing. “Are you _lovers_?”

“No. No. No. He is _my brother_ , Quintus.” The vehement refusal reminded Quintus’ of how he just denied Ancharia being his lover and he understood it was more of a familial bond to which Raphael was implying.

“Forgive my confusion.”

As he began to chuckle along with the dhampir’s words, Raphael shook his head. “And I said **_speculated_**. But no. **_He_** _is not my soul-mate_. But, it is on a primordial level that he and I are connected. No one knows why or how _The Creator_ made us or where _our_ souls originated, but I know that _we_ were _never_ meant to be _alone_. We function best as pairs. It is our natural state.”

“But, forgive my forwardness, not all Hayyoth were born with a pair, were they?” Quintus pressed slightly as he dug for further information. He knew that even the mentioning of the littlest brother had caused Ozryel discomfort and he wished to see if it caused Raphael the same.

“How are you getting along? How is your time in Heaven progressing? Are you finding it to your liking yet?” Raphael expertly ignored the question and Quintus smiled. There was not even a twitch of a single muscle in his face and he _knew_ this was the brother that was dangerous. Polite and well mannered and … constantly in deep thought. A master of control and, likely, manipulation. In that respect, he reminded Quintus of himself. “It has been months since the trial. I regret not asking you earlier when you were released.”

“And thank you for that.” Quintus was genuinely grateful for being freed and the angel nodded as he clasped his hands behind him while they walked. “It has been … _difficult_.” He _could_ lie, but he _knew_ this angel would easily see past any dishonesty.

“It is expected. Those who have been _born of fire_ and _violence_ generally have a difficult time accepting peace.” Raphael sighed. “But it will come in time. You are one of the most patient beings I have _ever_ met, Quintus.”

“Indeed?” It was definitely a question and he found that statement both flattering as well as unbelieveable. Raphael surely knew _every being_ in existence.

> _Way slow_
> 
> _Let the records play low_
> 
> _Like the sun goes way low_
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> _Lay me down, love_
> 
> _Lay low, oh_
> 
> _Slow day but I passed the time_
> 
> _Coffee and a half a pack_
> 
> _Said I’m thinking about you and I_
> 
> _Took a while but you hit me back_

“Think of this period as the _calm before the storm_. Relish in this time as an opportune period of reflection and individual growth.”

“ ** _Storm_**?” Quintus prodded. What an odd comment. “And what _storm_ would that be exactly?”

“I am simply referring to _what_ you are anticipating … or should I say _who_. Perhaps it is a bad metaphor though.” Raphael stopped at the end of the block, looking both ways before deciding to head _away_ from the commotion and turned left. “I meant … eventually you will be reunited with your _lost_. It is an inevitability, is it not? _The unending cycle of life and death._ You have time to find yourself before they arrive and, _possibly, begin to build a future with them for when they come back to you._ ”

“Unless I do not see _her_ again at all.” Quintus sighed. This was the truth that Michael already told him and Raphael could see the silent anguish wash over him.

“Are you are worried that **_she_** will not be welcomed **_here_**?” Perhaps this conversation wasn’t the best one to be having with the angel after all and Quintus wondered how he might divert it away from his _Poet_. When he offered no response, the purple-eyed angel gave an exaggerated shrug. “Do you worry because you believe **_she_** might not live a life that would meet our standards of judgement or are you worried that **_she_** might end herself?”

“No. Her strength of character surpasses the need for _such worries_.” Quintus dismissed. “But it is the absence that worries me. Things change. Hearts break in ways that cannot be fixed or that are healed by _other people_. We …” Quintus found himself reaching into his pocket and retrieving the object from it, fiddling with it nervously as he spoke. He didn’t realized he had stolen the small shell from Ancharia until this very moment. “We did not part on the _best_ of circumstances.”

“Perhaps you worry that _she_ might love another?” Raphael queried and Quintus sighed at the thought of it.

“ _Yes_. I worry about this. I am told I should wish happiness for her. That I should wish her to live a long and peaceful life, but there is **_no part of me_** that wishes her to find happiness with another. It is selfish and I do not care. But that does not stop my worry.” He found love again himself and he _hated_ himself more than ever at this moment for leaving her as he did. Closing his eyes tightly, he clenched the shell in his fist as hard as he could while he replayed her words through his mind: 

> _“I thought I knew what love was … until I met you.”_

“ ** _Never_** be ashamed of your _longing_ , Quintus. It has always made you strong.” Raphael said and the dhampir could hear just the slightest hint of understanding in his voice as Quintus nodded. “That is the most vicious pain in creation, I think.”

“And what pain is that, exalted one?” The nickname had escaped his lips before Quintus could halt it and it immediately reminded them both of Ozryel and her unrelenting use of them. _Damnation._

“The empty pain you feel when you are separated from the one you long to be with the most … ” The angel beamed at the use of the name before his smile faded into careful thought. “Perhaps it is the emptiness of regret … Of things undone or unsaid … ”

Quintus paused in their stroll as he looked upon the solemn face of the shorter man before him. “You know this pain well, don’t you?”

Again, a question that Raphael ignored entirely as he smiled deeply. “So … _She_? They are a _she?_ Tell me … does **_she_** have a _name_?”

“She does.” Quintus stated as he began to walk again, smiling. “And _yours_?”

“Mine.” Raphael uttered the word slowly and lowly as his brows pinched in sadness. “ _Mine_.” He repeated on more time as a smile began to grace his mouth and he nodded simply, accepting the word. “Our relationship was never made _public_ , so I would appreciate discretion.” Quintus raised an eyebrow as he shifted slightly. Having personal information on the angel might prove useful and he nodded in acceptance of the impending secret disclosure.

Sighing deeply, the angel spoke almost too lowly for Quintus to hear the name that slipped by his plump lips. “Her name was _[Sandalphon](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSandalphon&t=ZDNlNWRkYWEzOWQzMzBmZGE3NDUwYTkzZGMxZmFhZjZhMzllYmQ2YSw2cEZYM0tzdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160711535778%2Fchapter-52-descent&m=1)_. My _wheel_ within the _wheel_.” Quintus immediately recognized _this name_. She was the _angel prophet_ that Ancharia mentioned. The one who _vanished_ along with God. The one who had given the prophecy of _The Feared_. As the name sunk into his memory, the _past tense_ of Raphael’s sentence evoked sadness within him. **_Was_**. _Her name_ **_was_** _Sandalphon_.

“Was?” Quintus asked simply.

Raphael ignored the question, just as he did with the others he didn’t wish to answer, looking to him as he smiled weakly. “And _yours_?”

Damnation. Raphael just revealed something _deeply personal_ to him and Quintus stared back quietly. The angel would know if he was lying and at this moment, he felt like he had been suckered into disclosing something that he _really_ should not.

 _Should he even utter her first name? Should he?_ Would it make a difference? Did it really matter since it was _not_ her real name after all? It was _her stolen_ name and he grinned.

“Dawn.” Quintus began to walk again as he clasped his hands behind his back the same as Raphael’s. “Her name **_is_** Dawn.”

“Dawn.” Raphael was incredibly pleased. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Yes.” Quintus nodded. “It is.”

“What does she do?” Raphael prodded gently and Quintus could feel that he was fishing for information and the dhampir chuckled internally.

“ _She’s a Poet._ ”

 

* * *

 

Hathų held the sheet tightly against her chest while she stared at the wall across the room as she sat straight up in the bed. She was trying to internalize what her husband just said to her but it was difficult to accept it.

“Gone?” She repeated and he grunted an affirmative from behind her. “ _What do you mean gone?_ ”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Michael’s voice was laced with absolute defeat. “I can’t _see_ her anymore.”

“Is she still on Earth?” She hesitated to even say the words as her hand came up to her mouth. “Did she … Did she _die_?”

“No. No. She’s still there _somewhere_.” He shook his head but Hathų turned to him, her face contorted with burgeoning anger.

“How do you know!? How can you know that?!? If you cannot see her than how do you know?!” Panic was setting in and she wasn’t sure if she was _more_ angry that their granddaughter was _missing_ or that he seemed to not care. As her eyes met his, she knew this was not the case though, as they were filled with tears.

“Because I can still _feel_ her …” He clenched his fists as he took a deep breath in, pinching his brow between his fingers. “And whatever the fuck she’s _feeling_ **_right now_** … _quite a bit actually_.”

“What is she feeling?” She asked desperately.

“Sadness.” He whispered as he clenched her pillow to his chest and took a deep breath of it in.

“Why are you here? Why did we just waste time with this?!? Why aren’t you out there?!” Hathų suddenly leapt up from the bed, grabbing her clothes as she pulled on her dress as quickly as she could. “You should be out there, you should be–”

“I was.” He sighed. “I looked for _hours_. I looked _everywhere_.” His shoulders relaxed a bit. “I visited her friends. Her homes. Everywhere I’ve known her to be and everywhere I thought she _might_ be. _Nothing_.”

“You should not have quit. You should be out there look–”

“Everywhere I go. Everywhere I look. Raphael _feels_ it.” Michael explained. “Each time I use that fucking thing, I can feel his eyes on me. He assumes I’m still looking for the sparked child … ”

“Well …” Hathų sat on the edge of the bed. “He is not wrong there.” 

“Raphael is _rarely_ wrong.” Michael edged his way to the end of the bed and began to reach for his own clothing strewn about the ground. “And he _knows_ something is wrong. He’s been digging at the records archive for days.”

“What will he find?” Her eyes grew wide with concern. ”Is there _anything_ to find?!”

“Nope.” The archangel smiled sinisterly as he snickered at some inside joke. “He’s wasting his time. I set up a wild goose chase for him. He’s tenacious though. Hot damn. I’ll give him that.”

Something obvious flashed across her mind as she began to pull on her shoes. “You will need to ask _him_.”

“Raphael?” Pulling his shirt over his head, Michael tucked it into his pants and gave her a perturbed look. “Ask him what?”

“Not Raphael. You know who I mean. _He might know where she is_.” She made the obvious statement and Michael scoffed loudly before falling silent.

“Ah hell …” The angel cracked his neck to the right in a show of annoyance. “That _little shit_.”

 

* * *

 

When it was obvious Quintus wasn’t going to give anything else away, Raphael bowed to the dhampir, apologizing for his imminent departure.

“I can feel Gabriel getting agitated. He is probably about to pick a fight. I should be returning.” Quintus nodded and the angel only made it a few steps before he turned back. “And thank you for walk. I have enjoyed the company and I appreciate the chance to get to know you better.”

“Indeed.” _Tricky angel_. Quintus watched his face patiently as he could tell the Raphael was not done speaking quite yet.

“I would recommend though …” Raphael seemed to be hesitant to suggest his next statement, but a warm smile aided its arrival. “Visiting _Honoria_ … and _Sempronius_. They do look forward to getting to know you as well.”

“Yes.” After the visit with _Ancharia_ , he knew this would be his next stop regardless of what the archangel was suggesting.

“And, also … if you find yourself free tomorrow …” The mocha-skinned, purple-eyed exalted one beamed with a playful grin. “You should come to the festivities.”

“What festivities would that be? More like this?” He pointed back down the street toward the direction whence they just came. “If so, I believe I’ll prefer to stay–”

“ _Oh Heavens No. Not this place._ ” Raphael shook his head as he laughed out loud. “I’m sorry. I have to be going now, but I am certain **_Honoria_** can fill you in. They go each year. I think you would enjoy it though. It might be _right_ up your alley.”

“Wait … “ Quintus asked confused. “What festivities?”

And like that, the angel was simply _gone_ as Quintus shook his own head in aggravation. He _knew_ the dhampir was incredibly curious and he dangled a carrot of mystery in front of the dhampir that would likely _force_ his visit to the Densus’ family _sooner_ rather than _later_.

 _Wait … what the hell just happened?_ Quintus stood confused for just a moment as he blinked at what occurred and the realization of it set in. YES. He had just been successfully manipulated by that _sneaky purple-eyed bastard_. It seemed Raphael was _far better_ at that objective than Hathų could ever hope to be.

_Damnation._

* * *

Raphael slapped his hand down on the counter much louder than he intended and the noise shocked Zophiel as the book fell from her hands and onto the ground below. _Whoops._ He didn’t meant to be so … _overzealous_. He usually _blinked_ into the area just outside the office door, but in his excitement, he had appeared right in front of her.

“Oh.” She looked disappointed as she picked up her book. “It’s _you_ … **_again_**.”

He smiled widely, flashing her his cutest smile and she shook her head at his flirtatious attempt. The more he bothered her, the less of an effect it was having on her. “What is it now? Are you ready for the next _Miriam_ box?”

“No. **_No_**.” He furrowed his nose at that. “And _most_ of that is _not_ even her. I’m not sure where it came from but–”

“ _All of that is definitely her._ ” Squinting at him with increasing displeasure, the chubby little cherub became animated with defensiveness. “I have been running this office since the beginning of creation and if you are implying that there is something wrong with my record keeping–”

“No. **_No_**.” He waved a hand at her as he surrendered. “Forgive me. That’s not what I was implying. Forgive my rudeness.” That smile again and she relaxed a bit, but she still squinted at him with hints of annoyance. “I have come for another reason today. Can you do another search for me?”

“OK. What is it this time?” She asked as she reopened her book and began to read the romance story within. “I am pretty busy, you know. It’s _just starting to get to the good parts_.”

Raphael was quite pleased with himself and he spoke with growing enthusiasm. “I need any records or even just possible last names that you might be able to find for a woman by the name of _Dawn_.”

Zophiel looked up with utter shock. “Just **_Dawn_**? Do you realize how many people are given that name, _Traveler_?”

“Quite a few, I can imagine. But …” He nodded with excitement tapping his thumb on the desk as he bit his lip. The last bit of information Quintus disclosed should make this task _much_ simpler. Her profession was quite unique for this day and age, he would imagine. “This one’s **_a Poet_**.”


	37. 5.3 - Descent

> _There’s no one left in the world_
> 
> _I’m gunslingin’_
> 
> _Don’t give a fuck if I go_
> 
> _Down, down, down_
> 
> _I got a voice in my head that keeps singing_
> 
> _Oh, my heart is a ghost town_

When she ventured _downstairs_ , it was almost completely dark but she could still make out the silhouette of EL, quietly standing in front of the far wall.

“The switch is to your right.” He said without turning around and when she flicked what she assumed to be a light switch. She was shocked to hear a mechanical vibration hum throughout the entire area. As light started to leak into the room from the bottom of all of the walls, she realized that what she had first thought to be a windowless room was, in fact, the opposite. There wasn’t a single wall that _wasn’t_ entirely glass and she watched as the metal shutters outside retracted into their housing above each massive window.

She stepped slowly from one wall to the next, staring down into the city below. The area itself was an open space, reaching from one side of the building all the way to the other and she envied it at once. _This was where he trained._ She noticed various weaponry hung from the load bearing pillars throughout the space. It was not entirely unlike the one Gus had built for them in their shared house, but this one was far more _expansive_.

As she walked around the perimeter, she peered out onto the unknowing Romans below. The windows, just likes the ones above, were obviously only one way visible and _heavily_ tinted but the bright sunlight outside shown through them clearly. It wasn’t until she got to the final wall that her excitement entirely faded.

As she approached the windows from which EL peered from, she began to see the market place below and her stomach filled with confusion and when she saw _the cafe_ and her mouth dropped agape as the tiny coffee shop below came sharply and painfully into agonizing focus.

EL didn’t have to look at her to feel the overwhelming shock of it and he tapped the glass, pointing at the place below. “You really had _no clue_?” He asked with near disappointment laced in his tone. “I was sure you would have figured it out by now.”

“Was he here the entire time I was?” She asked with a forced whisper. She came to this _very_ place, every single day for weeks when she was here. _For weeks_. She _loved_ being here and she thought she had come for the amazing coffee … Her mind stuttered to form any logical thought.

“Are you really shocked?” He prodded again. “You’ve _always_ wanted to come to Rome.” He turned to face her as he carefully looked over her sad and worn face. “You’ve never wondered why?”

“I thought …” There had been some draw to it. _Always_. “I used to _dream_ about Rome.” She admitted, unable to take her eyes from the table that she always sat in. The table in the _very edge_ of the cafe. The edge closest to where she stood now. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Those weren’t dreams. Those were memories. Those were _his_ memories.” His disclosure confused her. _His?_ “And no … I can’t see into _your dreams_ , Aurora.” He shook his head, confessing something that shocked her further. “ _My kind can’t dream._ ”

“So … “ She chirped hopefully. “I do have privacy _somewhere_ then?”

“Oh please.” He waved off her statement. “You can have privacy _anytime_ you want it. All you have to do is ask.” EL offered as he shrugged innocently. “And don’t try and play the _victim_ card with me … I know you better than that.”

“So …” She shifted uncomfortably, unable to tear her eyes from the place across the square. “When I was with Quintus … _in that storm_ , were you there as well?” She asked attempting to prepare herself for the disclosure. She had been wondering, but until this point, she was terrified to ask. She felt that it would have cheapened the intimacy they had shared if she knew that EL had been there … _watching_. Like a creeper.

“No. _I didn’t stay for that_. Geez, what the hell do you think of me?” He snorted. “I’m not a _pervert_.” Breaching the subject seemed to cause him as much discomfort as it did her. “Nope. And don’t worry, I don’t watch you pee either.”

There was something angry in his voice even though he was trying to hide it with forced humor. Annoyance, clearly. But something else. Perhaps _jealousy_? It was hard to read exactly what emotions were bubbling just beneath his child-like attitude.

“OK. So …” She turned her attention from the outside world and focused solely on him. It was time to ask. “Then what _exactly_ do you want from me, _Lucifer_?” The question was calm and she used his full name to help express the importance of her question. She’d been dancing around the subject for weeks and now that she was here, surrounded by everything that had been Quintus, she wanted to know. She _needed_ to know. “What do _you_ get out of helping me?”

“Actually, that’s a simple but _complex_ question.” He breathed deeply. “I get _what I’ve always wanted_. What I was born without … I experience _your company_. I earn _your trust_.” He said matter of factly as he stepped towards her, gently tapping her on the shoulder with his index finger playfully as he pointed to her. “I get … **_you_**.”

“Listen, I’m flattered. I _really_ am …” She hesitated at even saying that. Had she ever had the privy to turn anyone down before? She was growing fond of EL actually, but just not in _that_ way. She was also worried to refuse him for selfish reasons. She still _needed_ him to get what she wanted so desperately, didn’t she? To get _who_ she wanted. “I _love_ Quintus. I didn’t mean to give you impres–”

“Oh please.” He balked. “I’m not interested in _replacing him_. You misunderstand … “ He stepped away and stared out the window again, tapping on the glass as he spoke. “I’m not looking for a _lover_ , Dawn.” He rarely used that _version_ of her name and she could _feel_ the desperate emotion behind his words. “He can keep _that_ side of you. I’m looking for something so much more than _that_.”

“ _More than what exactly?_ ” She asked for qualification while squinting at him, her mind racing with several thoughts at once.

“ _We First_ …” He said carefully as he stepped back towards her and fixed a wrinkle in the sleeve of her shirt as he smiled, tugging it until it was straight and brushing a piece of hair from her face. “ _We_ were _made_ to function in pairs. I know you’ve felt that. It’s why you were drawn _here_ …” He turned and waved his hand at the city beyond the windows.

“I was drawn to _him_.” She offered but EL dismissed the sentiment.

“No. You were drawn to Ozryel’s divinity _within_ him. The power lingering and brewing within his _all too human_ shell. You weren’t seeking him, per se … but you were seeking _a connection_.”

“Then I can’t offer anything to you … I’ve already found _that_ connection.” She stated firmly and EL scoffed, breathing in deeply as he shook his head in dismissal.

“No. He _was_ not Hayyoth.” EL shook his head, dismissing again. “He _was_ not like us. He _was_ just a man.”

Detesting his use of the past tense, she glared at him as he continued his long winded monologue. He _loved_ to hear himself speak, but she didn’t mind, as she usually preferred not to. “No. I’m not seeking to replace _him_. I’m _not_ looking for _sex_ or _pleasure_ or _even_ **_intimacy_**.” Turning back to the windows, he folded his arms across his chest. “Nothing that _juvenile or … that_ **_human_**.”

“Then what the fuck do you want from _me_?” Whatever point he was trying to make, she seemed to be missing it completely. A _simple_ but _complex_ question indeed.

“We were _both_ born alone. We were _both_ denied our natures.” He sighed in growing petulant frustration. “I want to fulfill that fundamental part of _us_ that we are _both_ missing.”

“ _But I’m not alone._ ” She said quickly and even as the words escaped her mouth, she understood his meaning and he nodded with amusement. She wasn’t _alone_ because he’d always been there.

 _Shit_.

“Exactly! Do you get it now?” He smiled. “You never _have_ been. I’ve always been here.” As he reached out and clasp a hand atop her shoulder, he shrugged innocently as he gripped it tightly. “I don’t _want_ or _need_ a lover. _Any human can provide that_. What I _want_ … what I _need_ … is an _other._ ”

Dawn scrunched her brows up as she chuckled lowly. “An .. _Other_?” The thought was a bizarre one and maybe she hadn’t exactly followed his intentions at _all_.

“A sibling, if you will.” EL seemed to be incredibly entertained by the disclosure and he spun around in a complete circle while he recited something. This recitation sent chills through her as it reminded her of how she would speak her own memorized poems. “ _If one should falter, the other will bolster. If one should stumble, the other will reinforce. If one should doubt, the other will ensure._ ”

“A sibling?” She repeated as she watched him dance around again.

“ _A sister_. **_My_** _sister._ ” He qualified further as he stared back at her with suddenly serious rainbow eyes which faded into concern. “Has he _even_ been back to visit you since … ?”

Dawn looked down to the ground as she muttered a quiet response. “I don’t think so.” She admitted it sadly as she looked up with hopefully eyes. He hadn’t been back to _visit_ her since the wedding. “Have _you_ seen him come back?”

“I’m not _always_ watching.” He lied as he smiled fakely to her. “But _no_. I haven’t seen him. Just that _one_ time.”

Turning to look back out at the cafe as EL watched the sun meandering in the distance, heading closer to the horizon, she frowned. “Why hasn’t he come back?”

“I don’t know.” He said. “Maybe he can’t.” There was a shrug as EL touched her shoulder. “Or maybe …” His words trailed off.

“Or maybe what?” She pressed.

“ _Maybe he doesn’t want to._ ”

The last statement hit her hard and her stomach lurched with vicious nausea as she looked up into the sky, doubt beginning to form in the very back of her mind as she took a deep breath of her dhampir’s smell into her lungs. “What is it like?” She flicked a small nod upwards. “Up there …”

“It’s paradise.” EL said simply. “It’s _anything_ and _everything_ that you could _ever_ want.”

That’s exactly what she was worried about and she planned on asking more, but she felt his hand on her other shoulder, gripping it tightly as he spoke down into her ear. She wanted to ask many things, but the most important questions floated to the front of her conscious mind. Was he happy there? Is that why he hadn’t come back to see her? And if so, was she being selfish? And if so … was she being _foolish_?

“I’ll tell you all about it … if you _really want_ to know, but right now … “ He pointed out at the impending the sunset. “We’ll only have a few minutes and then we’ll have to wait until _Dawn_ again.”

Nodding in compliance, she turned to head back to the stairs. They needed to read the remaining pages of the _Lumen_.

 _The Twilight Pages. The Pages of the_ **_Nexus_**.

 

* * *

 

> _Go ahead you’ve, taken me down now_
> 
> _Give me, give me, give me, give me what you don’t know_
> 
> _Go ahead, take me all out now_
> 
> _Get this, get this into your game_

“Do you hear that?” Thomas asked as she came back up from the stairs to approach the luggage, and she nodded. “Is it supposed to do that?” He asked as he downed his glass of red liquid before he began to fill it up with another one. He’d already worked his way through five bags and it didn’t seem like he was about to stop anytime soon. “I assure you it was _not_ doing that before, my dear.”

The vibration was emanating from within her bag and it was only becoming louder with each step she took. Each time she’d been around the damn thing, it had hummed peacefully, as if it was a generator of some kind, but it was getting stronger now.

“It didn’t used to do _that_.” She agreed with Thomas and said out loud to EL.

“Each day you become _more_.” EL explained. “It reacts.”

She pushed the bag over onto the ground and unzipped the main compartment, pausing for a moment as she stared down at the giant silver book within before she laid her hands on it. She hated touching it now as she felt a surge of unexplainable energy throbbing from it. It had started to feel _alive_. She started to equate the vibrations as _a heartbeat_ of some kind. Ebbing and flowing. Pumping and pushing.

As she lifted it, her hands shook and she was certain she might drop it as her body trembled with the beating, but she placed it carefully onto the counter, running her hand over the cover gently. “ _What is it?_ ”

“Why, it is the _Lumen_ , my dear.” Thomas explained with a chuckle and she shot him an exasperated look as he realized she _wasn’t_ asking him and she did _not_ find him humorous.

“It’s been _many_ things over the millennia. It’s had _many_ names.” EL walked over and smiled, as he looked down at it affectionately. “However, this is the first time it’s been a _book_.”

“What makes the sound?” She opened it and ran her fingers over the pages. “Is it the ink? Is it more _Blood Magic?_ ”

EL laughed off her statement. “The pages aren’t what you’re feeling. It’s the metal. Did you think the _Lumen_ was _just_ important for the knowledge that it can impart?”

“ _The silver?_ ” She asked as she closed it again and ran her fingers over the cover again, tracing the delicate features of the engraving.

“Oh my silly, Aurora. _It’s not silver_.” EL explained. “Well … Not _all_ of it, at least. It’s what came _before_ silver. It’s what _silver_ was born from.”

“What was it before it was a book then?” She flipped it over and looked at the engraving on the back as memories of the _Professor_ rushed over her. Remembering him, spending countless hours with it open in from of him and she smiled sadly. She missed that time. She missed that old man and his overly grumpy nature. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“It’s had _many forms_. Forged and reforged since it fell to Earth with _the First_.” EL reached down, reaching for it as if he might touch it, but pulling his hand back as he smirked.

“The welsh called it [Dyrnwyn](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thirteen_Treasures_of_the_Island_of_Britain#Dyrnwyn.2C_the_Sword_of_Rhydderch_Hael), the Sword of Rhydderch Hael.”

“Beowulf called it [Nægling](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%A6gling). The Hindus, [Asi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asi_\(Mahabharata\)). The Irish, [Caladbolg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caladbolg). When Muhammad wielded it, it was [Zulfiqar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zulfiqar).”

“Perhaps you would know it best when it was called **_Caliburn_** , or … “ EL paused as a clever grin spread across his pale face and he snickered. “[Excalibur](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excalibur).” Dawn pulled her fingers back from the metal momentarily as her mouth opened with awe.

“But, it wasn’t always a blade though. The staff of [Sun Wukong](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun_Wukong), the Monkey King, [Jingu Bang](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruyi_Jingu_Bang). The Norse knew it as [Mjölnir](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mj%C3%B6lnir). The Holy Lance, [the Spear of Destiny](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_Lance). There are so _many_ more names and forms, but …”

EL leaned forward. “In 1667, [Al-Abyad](http://jinn.wikia.com/wiki/Al-Abyad), _The White King_ , or [Avigdo Levy](http://the-strain.wikia.com/wiki/Occido_Lumen), as he was going by back then, reformed it into what you see _now_.”

“Reformed it?” She asked as Thomas watched her tracing her fingers over its surface with caution.

“It’s indestructible, _nearly_ impossible to melt, you see. Because of _what it is_ , or rather … because of what is hidden _in it_. Only one of the original Seven Kings of the Marid can make a fire hot enough to shape the piece contained within. Its shard you feel now. It’s reacting to your Hayyoth divinity. It’s calling _to you_.”

“Why didn’t it call to _Quintus_ like this?” She asked.

“You’re _exalted_ , Aurora. He’s _accursed_. It’s the _punishment_ of the fall… to be _removed_ from the _Nexus_ and all the things it connects.” EL sneered. “Besides, he’s just a man.”

“OK.” She breathed deeply as she looked back towards the window, gauging that they still had a few minutes before the sun would begin to set. “Shard of _what_ exactly?”

“A shard?” Thomas asked as he finally put his glass down and walked over to look down at the book with her. “What shard, my dear?”

EL purred the words with delight as he smiled playfully at the disclosure. “ _The Retribution of Heaven_. My Eldest Brother’s _Most Precious Gift_. The Sword of the _Right Hand._ ” EL’s overly happy mood sent chills down her spine. “ _The Celestial Blade itself_.”

“What did he say?” Thomas stared wide eyed as he saw her eyes widen with the reveal. The German was enthralled by even just _half_ of the ensuing conversation. “What is it a shard of?”

“ _The Celestial Blade._ ” She stated and Thomas’ eyes grew even wider than hers.

“ _Oh Mein Gotte._ ” He retreated back to his glass and bags of blood, downing another glass without saying anything else and she smiled at his increasingly nervous nature. He was normally so very _calm_ and _collected_. Finally, he whispered. “ **[Das wird der Tod von uns sein.](https://translate.google.com/#en/de/This%20will%20be%20the%20death%20of%20us.)** ”

“What?” She was actually surprised. Had this not be disclosed to him? Did the _Master_ not trust him with this knowledge? “Your _Master_ didn’t tell you that?” She scoffed at his confusion, enjoying every second of it.

“So, Fräulein. What will we do with it then?” He asked a good question and she turned her attention back to EL, who was smiling wide enough to show her his canines.

“We … “ The fallen angel purred with delight. “We will turn it _back_ into a weapon, as it was always meant to be.”

“Why was it made into a _book_?” She pressed again.

“It’s a **_very_** _dangerous_ thing, Aurora. Even just a _shard_ of it can rend souls from existence. The first _and_ second death with a _single blow_.” He beamed. “And man has proved … _untrustworthy_ in the presence of such a power. Thus, the Marid formed it into something more _innocuous_. Rightfully terrified of divine retribution, they took it back and turned it into something they hoped man wouldn’t get the entire world _smited_.”

“Why though?” She was disgusted and her anger shown through. “Why does _man_ do that? Why does anyone–”

“Man fears _anything_ and _anyone_ that he can’t control.” He shrugged. “He craves power and wealth. Your existence … ” He smiled as he tapped her on the shoulder. “And I’m not talking about the _archangel_ , I’m talking about the _prophet_ within, proves that there is _no greater control_ or _power_ in the universe  than _time_ itself.”

“Time?” She questioned.

“Time is the force that even _The Creator_ is a _slave_ to. _The force that speaks only to_ **_your kind_**.”

“So they _killed_ _him_ with _this_ because of _time_?” She placed her palm on the book and felt the beating within.

“For _power_. For _control_. Yes. And time is _both_.” EL purred. “Imagine the things that you could do if you _always_ knew the consequences of your actions. Imagine _always_ knowing the future and how to shape it.”

“I can’t do that.” She looked at him. “You think–”

“With this.” He pointed down to the book. “We can do whatever we want.”

“With a _book_.” She laughed. “You want me to smack people upside the head with … _a book_?”

EL sighed. “It’s more _dangerous_ than you realize.”

“I don’t get it. If it’s _that_ dangerous, then why not just get rid of it?” She scrunched her face. “Bury it somewhere … sink it into the ocean. Fuck. Shoot it into space?”

“It’s power. They kept it because they _fear_ Heaven.” He explained. “Or more specifically, because they fear my _brothers_ in _Heaven_. This …” He pointed to the silver cover. “Is the _only thing on_ **_Earth_** that had can even _hurt_ one of _us_.”

Dawn ran her fingers gently over the four circles in each corner of the cover as she felting the heartbeat within it. As she touched each circle, starting in the top left and working left to right as he spoke its hidden meaning. “[The four living creatures.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Living_creatures_\(Bible\)) _Ozryel_ , the eagle … _Michael_ , the lion … _Gabriel_ , the ox and … _Raphael_ , _the man_.” The last one was a sneer and she could _feel_ that there was anger brewing behind _that_ brother.

“ _Four brothers._ ” She said as her fingertips traced to the middle of the bottom, delicately brushing on the winged man holding two shields and she smiled as she corrected herself. “ ** _Five brothers._** ”

“Why would _your brother’s_ have left it here then?” She asked. “If it was dangerous to them, why didn’t they–”

“They didn’t know.” He laughed out loud, quite amused as he chuckled madly. “Those fools didn’t realized what they had done! _Ozyrel_ would have known. It’s _his_ gift and it’s _his_ heart you feel beating through the metal.”

The realization of this made Dawn pull her hand back from the metal sharply as disgust washed over her. _Ozryel .. the Master … that mother fucking son of a bitch …_

EL stated with quiet rage. “I think honestly Raphael _might_ have known but … he was a bit … _distracted_ at the time.”

“What the fuck was strong enough to break a shard from something like that?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “You said there is _nothing on Earth–_ ”

“There is only one thing in existence more powerful than _A Gift_ , and that is the Hayyoth themselves.” EL explained. “What chipped the blade was _Ozryel_. When _the Ox cut the Eagle to bits_. The final blow was struck with such incredible force that it not only tore his spirit into fragments, but also it left a remnant lodged inside of his bone.”

“Jesus.” She gasped and she could read the anger growing in his face as he recounted the memory of it. She remembered the words that she had forcefully scraped from his memories and the voices that had played out painfully across his mind. She understood now that those voices had been _Ozyrel_ and _Gabriel_ that she had heard arguing. Screaming at each other. _The Eagle and the Ox._

> _“I won’t do it! Do not make me do this! BROTHER!”_ He had refused.
> 
> “There is no choice!” She had begged.

“What happened _that day_?” She asked and EL finally locked eyes with her, tearing his stare from the book.

“You want to see how The First of the First fell, Aurora?” He sighed. “You want to see your other uncles?”

“Yes.” She was forceful in her tone, unrelenting in her focus. “What happened that day? Why do you hate _Raphael_?”

“You want to make me relive the worst moment of _my entire existence_?” He glared down to her and she shrugged with apathy.

“You witnessed mine, didn’t you?” That moment the light had flashed across the New York sky and she felt Quintus snap out of her life.

“Fair enough. Alright.” EL conceded. “But first thing’s first.” Pointing back towards the window, he reminded her of the current task at hand. “It’s time.”

Taking a step to the right, she allowed the darkened sunlight to spread across the silver and as she opened the book to the Twilight page, they became illuminated with metallic colored letters.


	38. 5.4 - Descent

The place that he sought was on the outskirts of Elysian and he smiled as he approached the warm and meticulously overgrown cottage nestled lovingly in the surrounding countryside. It was ideally placed between who marvelous mountain ranges, each serving to show a spectacle at both sunrise as well as sunset.

In all honesty, it was _exactly_ as he had pictured it. If he had wanted his _own_ paradise, it would not be that different from _this_ very thing. As he strolled up the cobblestone sidewalk he felt his nervousness growing. When he finished his slow meander up to the front door, he reached his hand up to knock on the door and hesitated, breathing deeply for a moment. He had been agonizing over this moment for months but before he could knock on the rustic wooden door, it swung open wide and he was greeted with the beautiful face of _Honoria, his mother_.

She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going as she reached down, picking up a massive black bag while shouting behind her.

“Grab the mace as well! And don’t forget the _broadsword_ this time!” She bellowed behind her as she stepped forward and nearly bumped right into Quintus. “Oh!” Her mouth fell agape as the shock of his sudden presence sent the bag flying from her grip and Quintus caught it mid air.

“Pardon me. I did not intend to startle you.” He said just as he heard Sempronius speaking while entering the room from the back.

“I didn’t forget it last time. You said you were going to–” His sentence cut short as he saw the _human-formed_ Quintus standing in his doorway. “Ah.” The execution of the word was so plain that Quintus could not tell if it was pleased or upset.

“Quintus!” Honoria smiled as widely as her mouth would allow as she clumsily pulled the bag back from his grasp. “We’ve been … I’ve been … Oh …” She fumbled with words as she looked him up and down. “You’re … **_here_**. Right now.”

“Indeed.” He confirmed the obvious as he managed a small smile before glancing back at the stern man who stood behind her, his arms full of various weaponry. “I apologize that it has taken me this long.”

“Oh … no, no. It’s not a problem.” She waved off his apology and shuffled to the side, offering him space to enter their home. “Come in. _Come in._ ”

“Ah. I do not wish to be a bother.” Quintus hesitated as he looked back at the increasingly unamused Sempronius. “It seems as though you are going somewhere? I will simply return _later_.” 

“Perhaps that is for _the best_.” Sempronius agreed and Honoria whipped around quickly, giving her husband the dirtiest look that her pleasant face could manage.

“Do _NOT_ be absurd.” Spinning back as she looked at Quintus with hopeful eyes. “We can _simply_ go _another_ time.”

“Another time?” Sempronius scoffed. “The festival is only _once a year_ and you love it. Just let him come back _another_ time.”

“I really do not mean to intrude.” Quintus bowed slightly as he started to turn. The desire to get out of Sempronius’ judgemental presence was overwhelming him. Had this been a terrible idea? “I will come back another time.”

“Or maybe …” Honoria smiled widely as she reached out for his arm, gripping it gingerly as she halted his escape. “Would you like to come with us?” 

* * *

 

 

> _Give me your fire_
> 
> _Give me reasons to learn_
> 
> _Give me every excuse to burn_
> 
> _Let your flames rise_
> 
> _Let your flames rise_

He could have just willed them there, but instead he found himself enjoying the stroll. From the fresh air, to the interesting scenery and most importantly, the company. As they walked, she talked. It was clear she was nervous and she was bad at masking it. She was obviously quite introverted, but even so she seemed to be the least introverted of the three of them and so she had to speak … quite a bit actually, rattling on about the celebration with glowing enthusiasm. Sempronius spoke as seldom as he did, only grunting and nodding to confirm her words on occasion.

She had described it many ways and with many names as they walked. The Festival of the Four Sons … _or was it the the Four Suns_. He could not tell from just her verbalized words alone but he didn’t ask for qualification. The Festival of the Four … Seasons, Worlds, Planes, Winds. She interchanged many words but as she finally came to describe it to him, it was simply the anniversary of creation itself.

_Genesis._

“The creation of _Heaven_ and _Earth_?” He asked for clarity.

“No. _Before that_. The creation of the first _life_.” She explained and Sempronius nodded.

“ _The first life_?” Quintus asked. “Adam?”

“No. Humans were _far_ from the first.” Honoria smiled. “Before there was Heaven and then Earth, there were the four living creatures.”

“Ah. Ozryel then.” Quintus understood. “So it is a birthday celebration for the brothers then.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to celebrate the birth of the _Governor_ , the mountainous ass, **_or_** Ozryel.

“Of sorts.” She nodded at his simple explanation. “Yes.”

Quintus jiggled the massive bag in his grip. He had taken it from Honoria shortly after departing the cottage. She protested at first, but with a shrug from Sempronius she relented when he asked _politely_. It was clear that she did not accept help lightly, and he felt like he should be grateful she allowed it. When he shifted it onto his back, his peaked within and saw an impressive armoury. “And the celebration requires _this_ many weapons?”

“We usually bring more … “ She chuckled. “But I couldn’t find where I put the rapier.”

“ _Your rapier_.” Sempronius finally spoke. “Did you look in the back cupboard, as I suggested?” Her husband queried and she shot him a frustrated glance.

“Of course I did.” She paused in her stride for a moment as she shook off the question. “I think I did. I’m _sure_ I did. It wasn’t there.”

Sempronius shrugged innocently as he shifted his own bag and shot his wife a playful grin. Ah ha. So this man _is capable of_ smiling. This had been the first time Quintus had actually seen him express a positive emotion as he nudged her with his arm. “I’m sure you didn’t because it was in there.”

“What?” She spun to him, eyeing him with extreme annoyance. “Then why didn’t you grab it!?!”

Another innocent shrug as his grin widened. “To prove a point. You never listen to me.”

“Gah!” She huffed and increased her pace to make distance between them as she waved her hands in the air. “You and _your points_. Now we are down a rapier.”

“We are down _your_ Rapier.” Her husband chuckled. “I have _mine_.”

The look that was shot back toward Sempronius sent even a chill down Quintus’ spine and she faced forward and increased her pace even more, putting even more distance between her and the boys.

“Do you two _bicker_ this much … often?” Quintus asked lowly so that Honoria would not hear.

“Of course.” Sempronius admitted without hesitation and as he looked over Quintus, he could read the discomfort their _spat_ had caused him. “Have _you_ ever been married, Quintus?”

Usually he was not one to disclose anything personal about himself, but as he looked up into the deep blue eyes of his _actual_ father, he felt a piece of his defensiveness wane. “I have. **_Yes_**.”

“Hmmm.” Sempronius accepted his statement with a single nod and looked ahead lovingly towards his annoyed wife while he smirked again. “And you did not have … **_disagreements_**?”

“No. Not like _that_.” Frowning, Quintus found himself disclosing even more than he had intended. “Our relationship was far more … _formal_.” There would have been no need as Tasa would have _listened_ to him. He stuttered on the word for a moment as another one trickled across his mind causing him to cringe slightly. Listened? Or **_obeyed_**?

As he turned to face the man who was uncharacteristically smiling back at him and at once, he felt something not many had _ever_ made him feel. _He felt foolish._ He found himself looking away in shame of it. _Damnation_.

“Hmph.” His serious companion grunted with disgruntled acceptance of his words and even without looking upon his father’s face, he could _hear_ the smirk in his next words. “I think you did it _wrong_ then.”

Quintus faltered in every way. His steps slowed and he was suddenly at a loss for words. This man knew _nothing_ about him and though he felt as though he should have been insulted, he realized he was not. There was some truth to it.

“How is that?” Quintus finally managed to cough at Sempronius’ brazen statement. The man did not speak often, but it was clear, when he did, he did so with carefully intended purpose.

“As a great man once said … [Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fparryz.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2017%2F03%2F7-Passion-Quotes.jpg&t=MTMyNWY2NjM0OTZmN2I2NGQyNTM2ZTk0NjI4MzM3MTdhYmNkZmZjMCxmZmpVNG5sRA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160973126633%2F54-descent&m=1).”

 _A great man?_ He was actually _not_ familiar with this quote, and he was familiar with _most_. As he cocked his head to the right, about to ask for clarification on the source, Honoria had lessened her pace to allow them to catch her again.

“What are you saying about me now?” She asked as she pushed her hand through Sempronius’ free arm, grabbing him and holding him tightly as he placed a small kiss on her forehead. She could read the uncomfortable moment clearly and she frowned to Quintus. “Is he being _rude_? What did you say to him?”

Shrugging, he was not entirely sure how to answer that question as he was uncertain if the man _was_ being rude or just _incredibly direct_. In either case, regardless of how it made him feel, he actually quite liked it, as he often found himself wishing all people were this blunt.

As that consideration lingered in his mind he supposed Sempronius was quite a bit like himself in that respect. **_His mind stuttered_** as he realized it was actually the _other_ way around, wasn’t it? Sempronius wasn’t like him, but rather _he was actually quite like Sempronius_.

“If he was … I apologize.” She said. “He _usually_ is. He has always been that way.”

“It’s not rudeness.” Her husband said apathetically. “I was just being honest.”

“Yes. _Honesty._ Please _ignore_ his **_honesty_**.” She chuckled warmly.

Quintus found himself lessening his pace as he watched the couple walk on ahead and he found himself relaxing as he steadily became at ease around them and he mulled over Sempronius’ “ _rudeness_ ”. Eventually he found himself smirking at the realization of their meaning and their obvious application to _him_.

No, he had not argued with Tasa. She had been the _perfect_ spouse and there had been no conflict as she graciously accepted what she had perceived was _her place_. As his wife, as his _slave_ … as his … _property_.

But it was _not_ this fact that made him grin uncontrollably now, as it was actually not Tasa that invaded his all too conscious mind as they walked the remainder of the distance to the _festivities_. No, instead, he played over _each and every_ argument that had ensued with _Dawn_. Over and over he replayed them in his mind and he smiled at the memories as Sempronius’ words sank in.

 _Damnation._ He understood the man’s words completely. He _missed_ that playful conflict. He _missed_ that constant pull and push of her against him. He _missed_ that give _and_ that take. He _missed_ that fearless challenge.

_Damnation._

_He_ missed **_her_**.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t so much of a _celebration_ as it was a _tournament_. At least the place that the Densuses lead him, though there were clearly other festivities afoot and the entire spectacle seemed to stretch endlessly in all direction for miles. At first, he was reminded of something that was almost medieval, however there were sprinklings of _other things_ everywhere. There were so many traits of different eras and people that he was taken aback by the beautiful and incredible mixture of cultures.

Modern string lights combined with oil torches. Horses _and_ cars _and_ even camels, elephants and _anything_ else that one might be able to _ride_. People drank from plastic cups _and_ viking horns. He could hear music, conversations, arguments, laughter, and scoffing. They made their way through thousands of people wearing all manner of clothing: from Scottish kilts, to Roman [pteruges](http://midnightbelle.tumblr.com/post/160829711590), and even chainmail and leather armours.

He trailed them to the entrance of what he could only describe as part colosseum, part open field, and part modern football stadium. A chill of both unease _and_ excitement ran through his bones as he was reminded of his gladiatorial days as he stared at the crowds that were filling the stadium style seats on all sides. Staring at it carefully, he realized that comparing it with the colosseum had been foolish as it was easily four times the size of any arena he had ever fought in before.

The opening to the middle area was funneled through a single table at which was seated a portly but pleasant looking woman and a rather sizeable line was formed behind her. Taking their place at the end of the queue, no one spoke a word while they waited. Quintus enjoyed the silence and, more to the point, he enjoyed that the silence was _not_ awkward at all. It was almost expected and there was no need for unnecessary _chit chat_. _Thank the gods_.

As the line slowly moved along, they eventually moved to the front and the chubby woman seated at the table grinned as she saw them approach. “Honoria! It’s always nice to see you! Come to show them how it’s done _again_?” The chubby woman greeted **_her_** with glee as she flashed an awkward _blushing_ smile towards Sempronius. “ _Sempronius_.”

“Zophiel.” Sempronius acknowledged her formally with little more than a small nod of his head.

“Hmmm.” Quintus shifted uncomfortably as he leaned over to the man, speaking low enough to not be heard by either female as they began to carry on their own conversation. Sempronius had the same _effect_ on Ancharia. “Does _that_ happen often?” 

> “Hello Zophiel.” Honoria smiled as she greeted the woman back and leaned over the table covered in papers. “I was wondering if we might–” Honoria had started, but the woman shoved two paper numbers with seemingly random four digit numbers printed on them at her before attempting to accept the next person in line.
> 
> “Next!”

“Does what happen often?” Sempronius queried with confusion.

“That …” He flicked his head nonchalantly towards the chubby woman as he spoke. “ _Attention_.” 

> “Actually …” Honoria tapped the table as she smirked. “Would it be possible to add someone else to the list?”
> 
> Zophiel balked at the request as she shook her head in disagreement and disappointment. “Registration closed two days ago. You _know_ that, Honoria.”

“Oh. Yes.” Sempronius shifted uncomfortably at the question, just as Quintus had _just_ done and shrugged in innocence. “Unfortunately. More often than I would like.”

“If you do not like the … _attention_ …” Quintus regarded the man carefully, agreeing that he was _quite_ conventionally handsome and he decided to offer him a bit of advice. “You could simply _make_ yourself look different, could you not?” 

> “Yes. Right. But I was hoping that we could get another added. He’s _new_. He wasn’t aware of–” Honoria tried.
> 
> “There are deadlines for a reason.” Zophiel put her foot down. “The brackets have _already_ been allocated **_and_** printed. I’m sorry.”
> 
> “Can’t they just be _remade_?” Honoria tried again and Zophiel stared back with increasing frustration.

Sempronius’ brows furrowed deeply as Quintus’ statement seemed to confuse him profoundly. “Why would I do that?” He scoffed. “ _This_ is what I look like. What I’ve _always_ looked like. Why should I pretend to be _anything_ different?”

 _Indeed_. Quintus found himself without words again as he stared down at his own hands and the fakely pink skin of them. He’d gotten used to wearing his own disguise even though it had made him feel _dishonest_ in the beginning. As he stared down at the tan color of his palms, he let go of the lie and the white skin quickly faded back over his body as he allowed himself to become what he _always_ had been.

“Well …” Honoria hesitated, unable to mask the disappointment that laced her gentle voice. “He can just take _my place_ then?”

“Your place?!” Zophiel was getting annoyed at the lack of compliance. “The brackets _have already been printed up_. We won’t be changing _any names_.”

“You wouldn’t need to … _he has the same last name._ ” Honoria argued with disdain as it seemed whatever polite disguise _she_ had also been wearing was melting away. Her voice raised in volume to the overly organized paper pusher as a fire lit within her.

“No, please. You don’t need to do that.” Quintus stepped forward, waving a hand towards them in an attempt to defuse the impending confrontation. “I can simply spectate. I would prefer it as such.”

As Zophiel’s eyes met his suddenly dhampir appearance, she argued even louder at the the request while she pointed at him. “Wait … HIM?! _No, no,_ **_no_**. He cannot compete in **_your division_**! _He is not even_ **_human! _** That would _not_ be fair at _all!_ ”

“Oh.” Honoria’s face melted into momentary shock as when she spun to see what had angered the cherubim. This was not the first time she had seen him as such, but the surprise on her face as she looked upon his monstrous form sent a fleeting sense of shame through Quintus. But it was remarkably fleeting, as her face faded into a smile, followed by the smallest of accepting chuckles. “ _Oh_.”

“Then … allow him take _my_ place instead.” Quintus wasn’t sure if he cringed or not as he heard that _all too familiar voice_ from behind him offer another solution to the angry Zophiel.

“Exalted one.” The angel sighed as Raphael walked up beside Quintus, smiling. “No. The brackets have already been made–” She tried the tiresome argument again.

“And? So what?” Raphael countered. “What difference does that make? I am certain everyone will be _quite aware_ that Quintus is _not_ me.”

There was a brief moment of severe tension as Zophiel stared in silence at the purple-eyed angel with eyes of flame, before he smiled and she caved into the argument. Fiddling through the box, she pulled out a paper with a single number printed across it, “4”, and started to hand it to the dhampir.

As he reached out for it, she sharply pulled it back, squinting at him with menace. “Next year. _REGISTER_.” He took the paper with a nod.

 

* * *

 

As Sempronius and Honoria shuffled on ahead through the gate, Quintus attempted to hand the number to Raphael. “I do not require this. You should have it.”

“I do not require it either. I always _take a knee_ on the first round anyways.” Raphael smiled as he folded his arms behind him while they walked.

“Then why even register?” He looked down at the paper, assessing it was actually some kind of very thin plastic with metallic inked across it.

“I come for the party, not for the tournament.” He snickered. ”No, I do not even register myself. Gabriel does so for me.”

“He does so knowing that you will just surrender?”

“You’ve met Gabriel, haven’t you?” He quipped. “He hopes one day I’ll _change_ my mind.”

“Why do you not?” Quintus prodded, trying to get some kind of response from the stoic man. “Are you incapable of fighting? Or is it that you fear defeat?”

“I quite like you _in this form_ , Quintus. You should wear it more often.” Quintus’ question was a simple one, but Raphael ignored it fully, only pausing to look him up and down with a toothless grin as he bowed his head before taking his leave. “I hope you enjoy yourself today.”

As he watched the angel meander off, Sempronius pulled back and nodded in the direction of the recently departed angel. “Raphael clearly likes you.”

“Are you certain? I am unsure.” Quintus doubted. “That being is more mysterious than even I am.”

“ _Indeed_.” Sempronius executed _that word_ exactly as _he_ did, and the realization of that fact gave Quintus pause. He wasn’t sure he liked this feeling. “Regardless, he’s still an important ally to have.”

“Perhaps so.” He found himself agreeing as he nodded to _his father’s_ words. As he would grow to learn, Sempronius made excellent sense _often_ , if not _always_. “But for what purpose?”

 

* * *

  

> “ _Honoria_.” A man no less than six inches taller than Quintus himself nodded to her as the three of them passed.

“You are quite popular here.” Quintus stated obviously to which only Sempronius answered with a low chuckle. 

> “ _Honoria_.” A man with a shaved head, dressed in East Asian robes bowed.

“How does it work?” He asked as they entered the area for preparation, passing small groups of fighters preparing noisily and his blood began to pump faster with anticipation. He assumed his appearance would garner them unwanted attention, yet with each group they passed, the attention seemed to be mostly on _her_. 

> “ _Honoria_.” An impressively sized woman grunted at her as they passed.

“What do you mean?” She prodded as they picked an area with open seats and put down their equipment. There was something incredibly familiar and exhilarating about the entire experience as he remembered his gladiator days. The smell of the food, the bustling of the crowd and the nervousness of competition all sent reminiscent chills down his spine. Good as well as bad.

“Rules?” Quintus looked around at the crowd around them and assessed it was _mostly_ men. “I imagine it is _not_ to the death?”

“There are _no rules_.” Sempronius unzipped his bag as he spoke, digging for something within its cavernous interior. “You may even fight _dirty_ if you wish, but … keep in mind, people _do_ hold grudges. _Especially the divine_.”

“Ah.” Quintus smirked as his blatant overconfidence leaked into his words. “I have no need for _fighting dirty_.”

“Keep your ego in check, Quintus.” Honoria reprimanded him gently for the first time. The tone of her voice was that of a teacher rather than the quiet, reserved woman he’d thus far been privy to interact with. As she pulled a small scabbard still inside of a leather hip holster from the bag and began to buckle it around her narrow hips, she continued the words of wisdom. “Humility is something that will be _new_ to you.”

“You are _one_ to speak, _love_.” Sempronius chuckled and she rolled her eyes at him.

“I do _not_ have an ego.” She argued, but dismissed his playful banter as she finished expressing her thoughts to Quintus. “ _You_ will not be fighting _men_ today.”

 _Indeed_. His last battle upon Earth repeated in his mind and he remembered how the _Master_ had treated him as no more than a rag doll on that island. Pushing away the anxiety that memory resurrected, he looked around in an effort to distract from her warning, he was increasingly astounded by the sheer number of people everywhere, continuing to pile into the arena side gates.

“There are thousands of people here. How long will something like this take? They are one on one battles?”

“Time doesn’t always work linearly.” Sempronius stared out across the sea of fighters. 

> “YOO HOO!!!”

It was from the seats directly behind them and he recognized the voice as he closed his eyes tightly, refusing to turn around and address it. 

> “QUINTUS! YOO HOO!! UP HERE!”

He stared at the ground as he shook his head in embarrassment, declining the urge to turn around and acknowledge the voice. Honoria spun and squinted at the stands in the direction of the bellowing call.

“Who on _Earth_ is that?” She said as she looked up, shielding her eyes from the bright light of the sky, but he was thankful the angel was too far for her to make out clearly. “I think you might already have a _fan girl_.”

Ignoring her statement, he knelt and began to fish around within her bag. “Do you happen to have a [gladius](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FGladius&t=MmVkOGU1ZTY0MmQ5ZGNhODhiMGJjYzg1YzlmMWY3ZDFkMjIzOGQwZCxmZmpVNG5sRA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160973126633%2F54-descent&m=1)?” As as shadow fell upon him, he looked up to see that it was Sempronius was standing above, _already_ in the process of handing him that _very thing_.

“Thought you might say that.”

As he accepted the sword from his father’s offering hand he found himself smiling. 

> “YOO HOO!!! QUINTUS!!! UP HERE!!!”

_Ugh. Oh good god._ He cringed again as his hand came up sharply to rub his temple and he realized that she was unrelenting in her constant need for his attention. Unable to accept her continued bellowing further, he turned to face the restrained archangel far above in the upper seats.

She was seated and chained, just as she had been when they brought her into his trial, but the weight of the chains seemed to be featherlight to her as she waved her hands back and forth frantically towards him as soon as he gazed in her direction.

Puriel and Dokiel stood together by her side again and that all too familiar mocha-skinned archangel seated calmly next to her with his own a gigantic grin painted across his face as he stared at his sibling’s behaviour, shaking his head in shared embarrassment at it.

Quintus stared for a fraction of a moment before raising a single hand to acknowledge her and Honoria tried to look into the far distance again. “Who is _that_?” 

> “GOOD LUCK!!!” She screamed as she stood up in her seat, thrusting two enthusiastic thumbs up towards him.

“ _A fan_.” He groaned.


	39. 5.5 - Descent

 [ _Claws - Son Lux_](https://open.spotify.com/track/2DlmFEcPHvyXAxdVGVxyG0)

> _You’ve got your claws in me._
> 
> _… Don’t you?_
> 
> _… Don’t you?_

“I can’t read this language, EL.” She said with a combination of disgust and defeat as she stared down upon the metallic bronze letters. She caught a glimpse of Thomas out of the corner of her eye as he also looked over, affording her questioning eyes a simple shrug. Apparently he didn’t know it either, whatever the hell it was.

“No worries.” EL said and she might have turned to ask him to clarify that statement, but instead felt his fingers on her temples and at once she understood, as he _shared_ that knowledge with her, just as he had done with _German_ already.

“It’s Sumerian.” She said as she suddenly knew and the words decrypted before her eager eyes.

“Yup.” He spoke from behind as she began to read the page before her. There wouldn’t be enough time to read the entire thing as she’d _never_ been the fastest of readers, but she began regardless. There would be more time at sunrise, after all.

As her eyes crawled over the ancient dead language, she finished the page and turned it to the next and then the next. Feeling his cold breath against her skin as he leaned over, doing the same, but when the sun finished its descent past the horizon, the letters faded and he sighed with annoyance from behind.

“God damn. Can you possibly read _any_ slower?”

“Wait … Why do you even need to read it?” She turned and furrowed her brows at his childlike insult. “Don’t you know all of this already? In fact, why do I even need to read it at all. Can’t you just summarize this shit for me?”

“I did know …” He confessed guiltily. “At one point, I _knew_ all of this but …”

“But what?” She pushed aggressively, incited by his insulting tone.

“But I learned the hard way that there’s a _difference_ between knowing something _yourself_ versus having it _shared_ with you.”

Dawn turned and looked back at the now obfuscated pages as she tried to make sense of his explanation. “So you don’t _know_ any of this?” _For fuck’s sake._

“Well … I do **_now_** … but …” He took a deep breath in, considering his next words very carefully. Bringing his hand up to his chin, he smiled as a simply explanation crossed his mind. “It’s like, right now, at this _very_ moment in time, you don’t actually _know_ Sumerian.”

“Yeah, I do … I can totally understand what I just read–” She began to point down to the book and EL shook his head.

“No. No.” He interrupted her. “ ** _I_** know Sumerian. You don’t. I can take that away from you and you won’t have it anymore.”

“So … _all of this_ …” She waved at the book. “Is _new_ to you too?!” She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he _claimed_ to know everything that pissed her off more or the fact that she suddenly felt like they were _winging_ it. Was he not the _fucking devil himself?_ Was he actually fucking _useless to her!?!_

“Calm down. Don’t have a hissy.” He said, shaking his head as he felt her emotions begin to escalate. “I didn’t realize what was _mine_ and what was _theirs_ until I severed the connection. I know everything I claim to know, but the _glyphs_ …” He pointed to the page open before her, where the metallic symbols _had_ been. “Those were mostly _Mike’s_. I just needed a … refresher. That’s all.”

“And what else?” She pushed, feeling he was being _less_ than entirely forthcoming. “What else have you been bluffing about?”

“You doubting me now?” He scoffed.

“I don’t know how much you’ve been bullshitting about now.”

“I said **_we_** needed the _Lumen_.” Waving off her concern, EL laughed. “I was honest about that.”

“What do you think?” She looked down and shot a perturbed look towards Thomas as the Nazi turned away nervously and began to wash his glass out without saying anything in return. _Fucking coward_.

“And what do you do mean _you severed yourself?_ ” She asked suddenly as she spun from the counter and faced EL again, looking up into his condescending rainbow eyes.

“How about I’ll _show_ you, I know _so much more_ than you realize, but …” He reached out, touching the very tip of her nose with the tip of his index finger as if she was a child. “So … what would you prefer to see first? _My fall_ … _or Oz’s?”_

She’d read the entire history, as given by the _Lumen_ , about the fall of _Ozryel_ already. She was about to state that matter of factly, but EL smiled as he shook his head, already stealing the thought prematurely from her mind.

“No. You’ve read what _History_ has recorded as the fall of Oz. You’ve read what _they’ve_ allowed to be remembered.”

“What do you mean? I thought the _Lumen–_ ” She asked.

“The _Lumen_ was written by the Djinn, but there were no _Djinn_ present that day. They recorded a tale that was recanted to them by only _the few_ who survived.”

“Survived? The people of _Sadum and Amurah_?”

He laughed, but there was _no amusement_ in this act; it was laced with pure disgust. “There were only five _souls_ , intact or _not_ , that survived the destruction that occurred that day.”

“ _Five_?” The _Lumen_ said there were _four_ angels, did it not? That only Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael came back, leaving _Ozryel_ slain on Earth. It said everything that happened that day was _Ozryel’s_ fault. That the angel had craved human pleasures and blood. That the angel had been driven mad by physical ecstasies and transcendent perversions.

“History is written by the _victors_ , Aurora.” EL frowned as sadness replaced his normally charming face. “Though, I’m not really sure there were _any victors_ that day … only _survivors_.”

“They lied? But why?”

“To admit that Hayyoth can be _driven_ to fall would be admitting weakness. No one wanted _another_ rebellion. To say that he fell from his _own_ actions … lets them remain in control.”

“Politics.” She balked as she shook her head in disagreement.

“I can _tell_ you or …” He offered his hand for her to take. “I can just _show_ you.”

There was a chill that ran down her spine as she stared up into his sad serious face.

As she grasped his hand, she nodded in acceptance of his offer. “ _Then show me._ ”

 

* * *

 

She was no longer in Rome. No longer in her love’s flat. No longer with Thomas. It was night and she was outside, in a rural city square of some kind.

EL’s voice rang out, seemingly echoing from everywhere. He was no longer standing beside her, yet she knew he was,. She knew that right now, she was looking _through_ a memory and seeing through EL’s eyes. 

> **_First … before we can hope to change the future, you must first understand the past …_**

What she saw before her wasn’t at all what she expected. She was expecting to see fire and brimstone, to witness the mass destruction on such a savage and divine level that she would need to shield her eyes. She was expecting to see, by all accounts what the _Lumen_ said she would see, _the Face of God_ turning the two cities into nothing more than ash and vapor. 

> **_And every past has a beginning …_ **

But instead, it was daylight and she saw a _woman_ standing alone in a vibrant green field. Tall and slender, yet slightly curved in all the right places. Simple and lovely. Her skin was a rich ebony, almost the color of roasted coffee beans and her eyes were even darker still. Dawn was immediately envious to a degree that made her uncomfortable and she heard EL laugh. 

> **_Don’t do that._ **
> 
> _Do what?_
> 
> **_Comparing yourself to others. You are both incredible and it doesn’t have to be a competition all the time.  Besides … her mind could never compare to yours.  
>  _ **
> 
> _Who is she?_ She asked.
> 
> **Her name …  
>  **

As the woman turned to face her, she smiled marvelously, showing her brilliantly white teeth as EL’s voice cracked with raw emotion. 

> … **_was Lilith._**

The _past tense_ of EL’s sentence evoked a sudden sorrow within her. **_Was_**. _Her name_ **_was_** _Lilith_.

As the memories began to flash by quickly, from scene to scene to scene, she saw Lilith in many different places, situations, and _emotions_. She felt her hand gripping hers, she felt her skin brushing against hers and she felt her plump _lips_. EL’s memories. 

> _Lilith … Adam’s first wife?_
> 
> **_Adam’s wife?_** The resentment was thick in his voice as he scoffed at the statement. **_No. More like his property._**

The beautiful woman was seated next to a man. He was tall, dark, and lanky. His voice was gruff and his laugh was bellowy and hollow. 

> **_She was the first, you see. It wasn’t him. It was her._ **
> 
> _The first? She was … the first what?_

The man spoke, recanting something enthusiastically to her, but she stared across the distance into the darkness where Dawn stood. She stared directly into her eyes … into EL’s eyes. 

> **_We call him Father, but that’s not really the truth. God is the life bringer and she was made … in its image._ **

The woman was walking through an orchard and Dawn already knew what grew there. She tried to reach for one of the bright red pieces of fruit, but it was much too high for her to reach, even as tall as she was. Then Dawn felt herself reach out and pluck it from the branch, Lilith smiled brilliantly again. 

> **_She wasn’t made for him … She didn’t want him._** EL stated disdainfully. **_They considered it a flaw._**
> 
> _Considered what a flaw?_

They walked, side by side and Dawn could feel herself smiling. Really, truly smiling and she felt herself _happy_ , unconditionally so. Then there was that man again and she felt herself stiffen with anger. 

> **_Free will. Defiance. Foresight. Everything she was, everything I loved about her … was a flaw. Man was made like The First in this respect. Without the leash and she was …_ **
> 
> _Fierce._
> 
> **_The fiercest. She was …_ **

Dawn could feel it. As she stared at the woman, she was increasingly envious. She was beautiful on a level that would _never_ be attainable to her, right? Lilith was intelligent and powerful and ageless and … 

> **_My world._ **
> 
> _You fell from grace … for_ **_her_**? _Didn’t you?_
> 
> **_We both fell from grace … together.  
>  _ **
> 
> _What happened?_
> 
> **_No. This isn’t the tale of my fall, Aurora._ **
> 
> _Then why are you showing her to me?_
> 
> **_Because of Sadum and Amurah … everything that happened that night._ **

The view spun back to the city square where this memorial journey had started and it was night time. They stood in the center of a city square and there were four figures approaching from the north in the moonless darkness. 

> **_It was all because of her_**.

 [ _Dangerous - Son Lux_](https://open.spotify.com/track/02fgjiN2wy5VI7KRQxqgxP)

> _Are you dangerous?_
> 
> _Found your way to my bed_
> 
> _Spent fewer nights with an end_
> 
> _Then I do with the dead_
> 
> _How am I supposed to run?_
> 
> _Now, am I supposed to run?_
> 
> _I watch you fall_
> 
> _Hollow and depleted_
> 
> _A city raised_
> 
> _Oh, to bury you beneath it_

As the tall shadowy figures walked past her in the darkness, she watched as another figure stepped out of the very corner of the square, pulling her hood back and revealing the dark face beneath. 

> **_If I could have warned her … I would have._ **
> 
> _But you could visit her … like you visit me?_
> 
> **_Not the same way. I couldn’t talk to her. I could only watch. If I could have stopped her … I would have … warned her._ **
> 
> _Warned her about what?_
> 
> **_Not what, Aurora. Who._ **

Dawn turned and watched the dark figures, finding them all entirely the same. They were androgynous with pale white skin. All were the same height, without anything that might differentiate them from each other, yet from the memories he was sharing, she _knew_ who they were and she _knew_ this was not their normal form.

 _Shapeshifters_.

 _Ozryel, Michael, Gabriel,_ **_and_** _Uriel._

> _Who?_
> 
> **_Who do you think?_ **

Looking back at the beings, she nodded. She did know because it was the name that was apprehensively waiting on the very tip of EL’s tongue, lingering on the cusp of his mind. 

> _Raphael._
> 
> **_Raphael._ **
> 
> _You …_ **_fear_** _him, don’t you?_
> 
> **_Only a fool wouldn’t. But, trust me, Aurora. That feeling is quite mutual._ **

Pulling her hood back up to cover her face, Lilith moved swiftly and without noise as she followed the figures down the alleyway and watched them enter the house of a thin old man. Assuming from what she read from the _Lumen_ , this was the man they called _Lot_. The four walked into the home and the door was shut behind them. 

> _What did she do?_
> 
> **_What she failed to do, what you … what we … will succeed at._ **
> 
> _What is that?_
> 
> **_Destroying the Nexus._ **

As the woman moved to the door, Dawn watched as something was etched into the ground before the entrance and the woman smiled brilliantly as she took out a bottle and dropped a clear viscous liquid onto the mark as it shined with white light before fading into the pattern with a dark burning ash. It was EL’s blood. Hayyoth blood. Lilith covered the symbol with dirt and backed away from the door. 

> **_She couldn’t tell he wasn’t here. They all looked the same to her, but there were four._ **
> 
> _Where was he?_
> 
> EL balked a simple laugh and shook his head in annoyance. **_He always felt killing was -beneath- him. Ironic really. He had started to refuse his duties. Uriel took his place often in these days. Knowing him, he was probably playing with his favorite wheel._**
> 
> _Wheel?_
> 
> **_Regardless, the trap … was supposed to be for him._ **
> 
> _Why him?_

EL sped up the memory, increasing time and eventually, the four exited the door, stepping quickly over the hidden mark that was etched into the ground. Slowly, each false form melted away. The transformation happened too slowly for them to realize what caused it and they seemed shocked as they gazed upon each other with wide eyes.

Dawn remembered the glyph now and she repeated its name careful: _The Seal of Revelation_. It forced them into their real forms because Lilith needed to know which one was _The Traveler._

_“? סיהט צו טפאַרטשקטיוו טאַהוו”_

The tall, long-haired one bellowed as he stared at his siblings. _This was Gabriel_. 

> _Uh … EL?_
> 
> **_Ooop. Sorry. One second._ **

She felt her mind embrace something new and she could understand _Enochian_ … again. _The Celestial Speech._ A particular chill ran down her spine as she remembered this language from her childhood. EL rolled the memory back and played it again with Gabriel’s words now decrypted for her.

“What witchcraft is this?” The tall, long-haired one bellowed as he stared at his siblings.

Michael’s brows furrowed, looking around the darkness before he kicked the dirt away from the symbol on the ground. “ _It’s Revelation._ ”

“ _Fucking Djinn_.” The skinny bald angel sneered as she looked around sharply and called into the shadows around them. “Show yourselves, _cowards!_ ” Dawn cringed as she looked up at the non-threatening figure, realizing who it was. _This …_ she cringed _again_ … was _Ozryel._ This … was the _Master_? She was so … well … _she? This was …_ The Angel of … _Death? She was so …_

> **_Don’t let your eyes fool you. Ozryel is far more dangerous than he looks. Pay attention._ **

“I don’t like this.” The Asian-looking man stated. _This was Uriel_. Always practical. “We should return and come back when the spell has faded.”

“I agree.” Michael spoke and she stared at him, into his matching green eyes. His face was covered with worry and she _knew_ Michael _always_ played it safe. Of all of them, from EL’s memories, he was the most _responsible_ one. “Where would they get the blood to execute such a glyph?”

“That’s absolute nonsense.” Ozryel chortled. “Because of a tiny bit of ridiculous Djinn magic? Oh please. So what if they can see who we are?” She balked at her brother’s reluctance with far too many words. “What type of message does it send to our enemies if we turn tail and run at the first sign of such trivial confrontation?”

“Agreed.” Gabriel said with a challenging sneer. “To leave now would just confirm our cowardice.”

Michael sighed as Uriel shook his head in conformance, both seeming to know there was no arguing against the other two more aggressive beings before them and accepting their inevitable and bitter defeat.

“So be it.” Michael, the _Left Hand_ , said looking around as Dawn felt his unease at the unfolding situation. “But proceed with caution.”

“Caution?” Ozryel laughed in amusement. “We come here to _destroy_ all, my brother, including any and all simpleton Djinn. Exactly what caution should we _employ_?”

And with that final word, Ozryel was airborne as Gabriel followed immediately behind her.

“Ah hell.” Michael huffed as he turned to look at Uriel with a troubled expression and the dark-haired angel shrugged. “Damn it, Oz.” They both delayed only seconds, but followed after their departed brethren into the air. Dawn turned and watched as the woman peeled back her hood and stepped out of the darkness with a sinister smile. 

> _Why is she doing this?_
> 
> **The same reason you are.  
>  **

He paused and she felt him begin to quake with agony as the eyes they shared grew moist with sorrow. There was a pause as she felt him begin to falter and she reached out, pushing him forward, providing him the strength to continue so he did. 

> **_She thought she could bring me back. She thought …_ **

She felt the memory fumble and for a moment, she was back in the flat without EL, but when she stretched, she felt him there and she pulled him back to the front. 

> _Focus, Lucifer_. She rarely called him by his proper name but now, she urged and he nodded from somewhere deep within.
> 
> **_I’m sorry_**.

Had he _ever_ apologized to her like that before? She wasn’t sure, but it was absolutely genuine. Shaking off his emotions, the scene shifted again, following the slender and elegant woman down the streets as she floated across the cobblestone and rocks like the goddess she was. She moved in a way that was too fast or nimble to be human and to the point of causing Dawn to gasp at the speed.

God … she was a sight, but Dawn didn’t know if that was because _she_ felt that way or because _he_ did. Either way, she just watched in awe because she was witnessing a true wonder. Anxiety mounted in her chest as EL’s memory came forth. She felt what _he_ felt that night and she wanted nothing more than _to stop her_ as her heart lurched forward. 

> **_I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop her._ **

The beings who had taken flight split apart in the sky far above the cities and headed to four points exactly surrounding the perimeters of the boundaries. As they began to land, the _first human_ eyed her target and she ran into the brush surrounding the _Right Hand of God_ with ultimate secrecy, pulling something from her belt as she did so. 

> _But if Raphael wasn’t here … What was she–_
> 
> **_She wasn’t sure she’d have another chance. Oz was his favorite brother. She knew she could draw him out._ **
> 
> _I thought Gabriel–_
> 
> **_She knew she couldn’t beat Gabriel._ **
> 
> _But she thinks she can beat Ozryel?!_
> 
> **_Watch._ **

Lilith moved closer, crouching through the brush as Ozryel knelt to the ground, touching it tenderly as her eyes began to glow with a fiery silver light and her divinity started to flow into the Earth. 

> _What’s she doing?_
> 
> **_She was charging it. Four angels at each of the four points.  A tetramorph to invoke power._ **
> 
> _For what purpose?_
> 
> **_Destruction. They were preparing to invoke the Face of God._ **

As Dawn moved around the crouched woman, she saw the object in Lilith’s grip clearly now and she watched as the woman brought the blade up to her own right wrist, upon which, in nearly the exact location was her own Seal of Obfuscation. Bringing the blade across the mark, she severed it and its effect as she stood up in the grass, exposing herself to the Angel of Death.

Ozryel’s observation of Lilith’s presence was immediate and the archangel brought her hand up from the ground, halting the impending act of destruction as she hissed to the dark woman. “ ** _Daughter of perdition._** ”

Lilith smiled, enjoying the title as she moved the blade in her hand out of the view of the angel and Dawn saw the markings etched into its metal surface before it was hidden from sight entirely. “Great Destroyer. Come to smite those with freedom of thought … _again_?”

Ozryel stood as she began to circle the woman carefully, drawing the celestial blade as she stepped. “You should have remained hidden, _First Born_. It is my duty to uphold your judgement.”

“You should have remained hidden as well …” Lilith purred. 

> _She’s going to try and fight her? Why would she even attempt that?!?_ Dawn was overly concerned, but she felt herself smile through EL.
> 
> **_Because … she doesn’t need to beat her to win the fight.  
>  _ **
> 
> _What?_
> 
> **_Finite versus Infinite Games. Winning isn’t always about being the smartest …_ **

## Ozryel.

  

> **_Or the strongest …_ **

## Gabriel.

 

>   ** _Or the most powerful …_ **

## Raphael.

 

> **_Or the best trained …_ **

## Uriel.

 

> **_Or … the most creative …_ **

##  _Michael_.

  

> _Enough with the riddles, EL._
> 
> **_To win, you simply have to be the most prepared._ **

What happened next was so sudden and exhilarating that Dawn almost missed it. If time hadn’t slowed down to a fraction of its normal speed, she would have. The blade was raised and Ozryel swung with such divine force that the motion cracked a clap of thunder unlike anything she had ever heard.

Dawn covered her own ears as the sound of the strike caused visible waves to rippled across the air and she saw Lilith burn with red sparks as she side stepped the blade at the very last moment and the edge of it missing the intended target of her neck, but grazing a deep cut horizontally across her flawless left cheek.

Taking several steps back, Lilith smiled widely and Ozryel furrowed her brows at the woman’s obvious delight. “Something amuses you, _Corrupted One_?” She asked and the dark woman brought the hidden blade up as the angel watched a single drop of her own angelic silver blood fall from the tip of it.

“Yes.” The woman quipped. “You have lost.”

Looking down at her side where the blade had barely penetrated, Ozryel laughed out loud. “I am Hayyoth, _Foolish One_. You’ve barely nicked me, my de–” The furrowing of her brows only deepened further as her grip on the heavy blade faltered and concern swam over her face. “What … “ The angel stepped back. “What have you done?”

Turning the blade of the knife to show Ozryel the various markings on it, Lilith smiled. The Seal of Hunger, The Seal of Fragmentation and, most importantly, The Seal of Connection.

“Oh god.” Ozryel grabbed her head as the voice within it penetrated. “ ** _The Little One_** … The Light Bringer … you’ve … _It’s covered in …_ ”

 _“His blood_.” Lilith hissed. “He left me with it. Do you feel it _Right Hand?_ Do you feel him coursing through your blood now? Do you _feel him … coming forth_?” Lilith’s words were almost hopeful in their execution as she stepped forward, looking into the angel’s red eyes with longing. “ _Lucifer_?”

As the other angels landed around them in unison, attracted by the clap of the strike, they stared at the unfolding scene with growing confusion.

“Lilith?” Michael gasped as he stepped forward towards the _prophet_ , but when the celestial blade hit the ground and Ozryel’s hands went up to her head in agony, Michael rushed to his _Other_. “Oz!?” 

> **_I was nearly free. I was … coming. I could almost touch her … Oz’s soul was fragmenting … his mind was breaking apart. It wouldn’t be permanent, but just enough for me to gain a foothold into his shell._ **
> 
> _His shell? You wanted … his body?_
> 
> **_My soul is trapped here without a Qliphoth to inhabit._ **
> 
> _But … where’s your real body? You said Hayyoth are–_
> 
> **_They hid it from me. She spent thousands of years searching for it, but it wasn’t until THIS moment, when I forced my way into my brother’s mind, that I learned where Oz had put it._ **
> 
> _Where is it?_
> 
> **_The assholes buried me in Egypt._ [The Cradle of Civilization.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCradle_of_civilization&t=ZDgxNDllYTJhNzY4YjNjMDkwNmM1ZjRkZTBiNDdjNmU1MWVlMTA4ZSwzZFpkaE1qNg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161152861623%2Fchapter-55-descent&m=1) But, that’s not important right now. Watch.**

**[ _Drawnonward - Jack Trammell_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6h5RryYv1tu6VRuFuoofYX) **

“What have you done?!” Gabriel screamed at Lilith with full volume as he approached the woman, grabbing her by the neck savagely and EL cringed. There was a moment when Dawn thought the massive angel was going to snap her neck, but then there was a **_fifth_** , landing beside Ozryel as the red-eyed Right Hand of God crumpled to her knees and Michael grabbed her fully in an embrace.

The man who knelt had dark skin, though not as dark as Lilith’s and his eyes were a vibrant and striking indigo. She _knew_ this was Raphael. 

> **_He felt it … even from Heaven._ **
> 
> _Felt what?_
> 
> **_Oz’s fear._ **

“Ozryel!” He screamed as he reached down to lay a hand on his wounded brother. “What has happened?!” The moment his skin made contact with his brother’s, Dawn brought her hands up to her head as a violent and turbulent force ripped through her mind. 

> _Oh fuck my life._
> 
> **_Oh … yeah …_ **

EL was laughing and it didn’t seem to be confined to _just_ her either, as all the angels buckled to their knees at once and Raphael began to bellow at the top of his lungs, collapsing over Ozryel and Michael as he did so, losing all control of himself. 

> _What’s happening?!?_

Dawn screamed over the noise, trying to cover her own ears again as she felt she might fall to the ground as well and the memory completely halted in its execution. Every figure froze and suddenly, EL was actually there as he stepped out from beside her, looking over all the faces, locked in time. 

> **_This is the moment. If I could take it back, I would.  
>  _ **
> 
> _You? What did_ **_you_** _do?_
> 
> **_Raphael had reached into his mind to help. He thought he could stop the splintering, but he didn’t realize I was there. His guard was down and like a virus, I breached him, bringing the fragmentation with me._ **
> 
> _But why is it affecting_ **_everyone_**?
> 
> **_One of the best kept secrets of Heaven, Aurora._ **
> 
> _Just say it._
> 
> **_The Nexus … the Veil of Thoughts … the Place of Connection … wasn’t a PLACE. It wasn’t a ‘where’ at all …_ **

Dawn looked at the frozen, mocha-skinned angel and she considered his face, filled, at this moment in time, with immense agony as she understood. 

> _It was a who._
> 
> **_Yes._ **
> 
> _Raphael … is_ **_the Nexus_**.
> 
> **_Yes._ **

EL moved around and looked at all of his brother’s faces, each in turn, scrutinizing _this_ particularly important moment in time as he stared down at Ozryel and Michael. 

> **_I realized, at this moment, why they stood at the Throne of God as they did. The Right and Left always to the sides, ready to carry out God’s bidding._ **

He moved around and stared up into the menacing and angry face of Gabriel. 

> **_The Messenger, always standing in front. Makes sense. The strongest standing to protect, right in front._ **

He moved back to Raphael and glared at the angel. 

> **_And the Traveler was always behind. It was thought because he wasn’t strong enough to PROTECT God. But that was actually exactly the opposite._ **

Dawn looked into the violet eyes and she felt the truth of every word sink in. 

> _It’s because God was protecting him._
> 
> **_It’s because they ALL were.  
>  _ **

With a snap of his finger, the scene began to carry forward again. 

> **_Now Aurora, bear witness to the Fall of Ozryel, the Right Hand of God himself._ **

Everyone was on their knees and she knew it wasn’t just the angel here, she could feel that even in Heaven, every celestial being crumpled into a divine pile of screaming agony. Through the growing madness, it was Ozryel who’s voice rang out the loudest. Pulling every ounce of strength she had left, she reached out, calling to Gabriel, both verbally and mentally.

_“Brother! You must sever my connection!!!”_

A moment of excruciating pain, Gabriel stood, staggering his way to his fallen siblings. “ _How?!_ ” He screamed, shaking his head and succeeding to plow through the crippling pain. 

> _How is he even moving still?!?_
> 
> **_You mean other than the fact that he’s a fucking tank?! I mean, look at him. His arms are as thick as my entire head!_ **

Dawn shot EL an exasperated look and he chuckled with a comedic shrug. She was annoyed but at the same time, she was also relieved that his playful nature had replaced this overly dramatic scene. 

> **_Sorry. In all seriousness, Gabriel’s connection to the Nexus has always been the weakest. This was by design. Raphael ensured that. They are very much each other’s opposites._ **

“ _The Blade!”_

Gabriel bent as he retrieved the dropped weapon and he stood, his body wavering with the vibrations of Raphael breaking apart before them. The purple-eyed angel screamed with pain she’d never heard before as he writhed in the dirt, desperately clutching his head as he screamed at Gabriel. “ _NOOOOOO!!!_ ” 

> _If Hayyoth are immortal, why does it matter?_
> 
> **_This was the first and only time the Celestial Blade has ever been raised to against Hayyoth. Everyone assumed this outcome would be final._ **

_“I won’t do it!”_ The mountainous angel stared down at the blade as he eyes filled with tears. _“Do not make me do this! BROTHER!”_

 _“There is no choice!”_ Ozryel begged as she felt her soul begin to crack and rifts formed in her divinity. She knew that there were only a handful of things in creation that could sever a connection to the Veil and Gabriel now held one in his grasp. _“The Nexus must be preserved … at any cost …”_

 _“Forgive me.”_ Gabriel cried as the blade swung up and down savagely into his brother’s thick skull and the bone split apart. Michael and Raphael wailed through the swing but the damage of the Nexus still ensued, and Gabriel swung and cut again … _and again_. Still, the connection remained intact as Raphael was refusing to let Ozryel slip away, but with each cut, the connection weakened further.

“Let him go, Raphael!” Gabriel begged his violet-eyed Other and Raphael refused, so he swung and cut, again and again.

When Michael regained enough of his senses, he lunged at Gabriel, but Uriel’s hands held him back before the green-eyed angel could reach his target.

As Michael screamed with chaotic and irrational madness, the loss of his _Other_ weakened him and he buckled under the sensation of the blade across their souls. Uriel held him, repeating over and over … and over again. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“LET ME GO! STOP!!” Michael pleaded and wailed as he reached out towards the scene and Gabriel swung, cutting into Ozryel again as as he cried with each swing. “LET ME GO! STOP!!! _Oh god … please stop._ Let me go.”

“I can’t.” Uriel said into his brother’s ear as he gripped him tightly and closed his eyes, unable to even witness the tragedy. “I’m sorry.”

It was the final blow, which severed Ozryel’s head from her body, that freed the Nexus from the corruption and Dawn closed her eyes as the pain of the situation flooded over and through her, feeling everyone through just the memory of the connection.

Everything was calm for just a brief moment and she swung around, looking for Lilith, but the woman was gone. 

> _Where is she? Did she get away?_
> 
> **_She saw a glimpse of what was coming … She’s running_**.

EL’s lip quivered and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of Lilith _or_ because of Ozryel, but he stared out into the dark wilderness, away from the cities. Dawn was desperate now as the situation seemed to be over, was it not? 

> _Did she get away?_
> 
> **_She was trying, but it was too late and … she wasn’t fast enough. No one gets away from what happened next._ **
> 
> _Gets away from what?_

She asked, but at the moment her question finished, EL turned to face his brothers again and she felt a quake unlike anything she had ever felt before. As she turned to see what EL was watching, it was Raphael. Still on the ground, he was crawling his way to the bloody corpse of his older brother and once he was before it, he reached out to touch the severed head. 

> **_Oz was always his favorite. I never thought … No one thought._  
>  **

“No.” It was a whisper as Raphael pulled his hand back, without touching the body that used to be his most beloved brother. “ _No_.” It was louder this time and the rumblings grew all around them. Dawn looked down at the ground as the sand and rocks upon it started to bounce.

“Brother.” Gabriel took a step towards Raphael. “There was no choice. It was destroying–”

“No.” Louder still. Uriel released his grip on Michael and the golden-haired angel collapsed onto the ground before his fallen _Other_ , doubling forward onto his knees as he started to openly sob and Raphael said again, louder still. “NO.”

“Brother.” Gabriel’s eyes grew wide as he felt something before* any *of the others did. “Raphael?”

“NO.” Raphael heaved forward, as if he needed to vomit, but nothing came out.

“Raphael.” Gabriel tried again.

“NO!” Raphael coughed and fell forward onto all fours.

“Raph–”

 **“NO!”** Raphael gripped a handful of dirt and rocks as he rolled back and screamed into the sky, upwards towards Heaven.

“ ** _NO!_** ”

“Oh … **_SHIT_**!” The massive angel’s skin sparked with amber electricity as he sprinted to Uriel, grabbing the smaller and less powerful archangel in an embrace to shield him from the ensuing blast.

What happened next, she could only equate to what she would imagine being at ground level when a nuclear bomb detonates and she wondered if this is what Quintus had seen in his final moments on Earth.

A moment of serene quiet followed by a small collapsing of everything _towards_ Raphael before it all exploded out from him in a furious and violent eruption of pure divine emotion. The light that expelled everywhere wasn’t white, as she would have expected, but a very deep violet in color as everything around them disintegrated instantly.

Caught in the ripple of the incredible shockwave, the other angels were flung beyond all visibility. Dawn stood in the cloud of ash and wind, shielding her eyes from the onslaught of vicious dust that tried to invade her eyes. When the soot and debris settled around them and the wind died down, she looked down at the sobbing angel before looking up to see the massive hole all around them. Neither city, nor even the mountains that had been in the distance existed anymore. Nothing but the angels remained. 

> _It was … Raphael that destroyed Sadum and Amurah that day._
> 
> **_Destroyed? No. He didn’t just destroy it, Aurora. He wiped it and every soul within it from existence._ **
> 
> _How is that different from destroying?_

EL looked in the direction that he knew Lilith had fled and his head shook solemnly. 

> **_It wasn’t the first death that befell every soul in his path this day. It was the second death. Tens of thousands of souls, Aurora … wiped from existence._ **

Dawn found herself kneeling to look into Raphael’s face and as she reached out into his heart, she felt the sorrow _and_ regret that was collapsing all around him as he stared into the palms of his hands with absolute self disgust. She could _feel_ he knew what just occurred and shame invaded every single part of his soul. 

> **_Until this moment, it was always accepted that ONLY the celestial blade could erase a soul from creation._ **
> 
> _It was … an accident._
> 
> _**DO NOT PITY HIM.**  
>  _

Feeling the compassion that was growing for his brother, EL ripped her back out of the memory and she found herself standing in the flat again. She asked the next question, even though she already knew the answer to it. 

> _And Lilith?_
> 
> **_She awaits me in oblivion._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed parallel between Q and Dawn’s experiences in EL and Raph’s story. Good job! It was on purpose.


	40. 5.6 - Descent

The first match was aggravating and he was unsure if he should have been insulted or not.

He was a _Bene Elohim_ , the same celestial race as _Puriel_ and _Dokiel_. A strapping young man with flowing brown hair. He did not catch the _being’s_ name, and the moment he stepped out into the dirt, the _angel_ took a knee before him. Quintus cocked his head to the right, confused for a moment that the fight was over even before a strike could be thrown.

Whispers flooded through the stands all around him and if he hadn’t been able to hear the specifics of several comments, he might have assumed the angel bowed out of fear, but it was simply out of _refusal_ to fight him. He heard the hushed conversations and he understood the defeat was in _protest_ of his entry into the _Celestial Games_.

The man … angel … _whatever_ … was refusing to fight him because he didn’t feel he should be there. As he stared down to the crouched being, he gripped his father’s gladius tightly with his leather gloves and sneered loudly across the short distance that separated them with an unhappy rattled growl. “ _Stand!_ ”

“It is forfeit.” There was a knock and Quintus spun to see the Silver clad Governor standing not far from them as he hit the staff into the ground again. “ _Densus_ is the victor.”

More whispers rippled around the audience but no applause was afforded and Quintus scoffed at the situation lowly with a grunt of bitter disapproval. “ _Coward_.”

“ _ABSOLUTELY SHAMEFUL!”_ As if she was in sync with his mind, he had no doubt she was, he heard Ozryel shouting the same word from somewhere above in the stands. “ _YOU FUCKING COWARD! You afraid of a little challenge!? GO AHEAD AND RUN BACK HOME WITH YOUR GRIGORI TAIL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!_ ”

Retreating from the field, he was a bit shaken. He had actually never experienced such an insult. In Rome, anyone who refused to fight would simply die and no man back then was foolish enough to play with their simpleton life to … _prove a point._

“ _Coward_.” Honoria huffed in agreement as he returned, showing almost as much anger as Ozryel but Quintus cracked his neck in an attempt to shake off the concern that such an action had festered within him.

“He doesn’t wish to be the first to fight you.” Sempronius stated the obvious.

“Then he is a _coward_. No?” Quintus stated as he spun the blade in his grip, eager to make use of it.

Sempronius shrugged, offering a less emotional take on the situation. “No one knows what you are capable of. If he used too much force … if he used too little force … He didn’t wish to be the guinea pig.” 

>  [ _Fearless - Thomas Bergersen_](https://open.spotify.com/track/7KoHGmAwTfAPRldKMNkxXT)

While he waited for the second fight, he sat with his back to the arena, not watching the rest of the first rounds play out behind him.

“Don’t you wish to watch the other opponents?” Sempronius pointed.

“I do not.” Quintus stated as he took a stone to the blade and sharpened it, even though he knew he didn’t actually need to do so, but the act eased his nerves. Between battles, it always had.

“But it will help you prepare for–” Sempronius tried his argument again but Quintus interrupted. 

“ **I do not.** ” He repeated as he had _never_ needed to see any opponent before and he didn’t wish to break that tradition now. Besides, he didn’t wish to rattle himself by seeing the mythical creatures that he might face. He would either beat them or he would not. Since they did not know what he was capable of, why should he know of them?

“But that’s–” Sempronius tried again but this time, Honora interrupted.

“Stop lecturing him.” Looking back towards her, Quintus smiled slightly. “Let him be.”

“Fine.” A significant pout spread across his father’s face. “It’s your loss then.”

Thankfully, his _second_ match wasn’t quite _as simple_ , as he took the field and faced something that did not take a _bow_ before him. When Sempronius had said it was a Cherub, he laughed before turning too quickly to wait for any further advice the Centurion might have offered him.

And now he regretted that slightly as what stood before him was not a chubby, winged little angel as expected, but it was something very much resembling a sphinx. Its mass likely outnumbered his own by at least four fold.

When his eyes grew wide at the realization it was his opponent, the creature, with the wings of an eagle, the body of a lion, and the face of a man, grinned madly before it shrieked with a sound that he was certain he’d only ever heard from a bird of prey. As it leapt into the air, using the full force of its feline physique to catapult itself up, it then used its massive wings to lift it significantly higher.

One flap, two flap, higher and higher until it was somewhere directly above and Quintus found himself squinting up, attempting to see past the blinding sunlight that masked its approach as it came barrelling back down upon him like a spear. It was hoping to win the battle with a single, terrifying strike and Quintus smirked at the attempt.

But, as Sempronius had already said, no one knew exactly what he was capable of, nor the dexterity that Ozryel’s divinity afforded him and he sidestepped the blow with incredible ease.

While it was true that when he was a gladiator, fighting and killing _men_ , his opponents never lasted more than a few minutes and most no more than a few seconds, he found _these_ adversaries took quite a deal longer. Overall, they were far more challenging but they fell nonetheless.

The battle was finished when Quintus grew tired of parrying its claws and when he stopped playing defensively, he chose to forfeit his ability to dodge the next lunging bite to grab the thick, furred tail in both of his hands. It was a costly choice and he flinched significantly when the beast’s teeth cut viciously into his quadricep, but he grinned through the pain as he knew the fight was already won.

Taking two steps back, he pulled the being forward, forcing it to lose its footing as he carried through, swinging the tail and dragging its side across the dirt as he followed through even further, lobbing it up and through the air in an arc, while maintaining his grip. The beast swung through the air above him in a perfect circle and as he slammed it back into the ground, he heard air forcefully exit its lungs.

It attempted to stand again, but fell back to the ground, lacking the strength required to even hold its own weight up and he kicked the massive beast over onto its side, placing his boot on its chest as he pointed the tip of his blade down, he smiled as he commanded. “ _Yield_.”

When he left the field this time, Sempronius shook his head. “That was quite a risk. You allowed yourself to be wounded.”

“Perhaps.” Quintus looked down where the teeth had punctured and found no sign of the injury on either his leg nor his clothing. “Or perhaps you have no idea what I am capable of as well.”

Looking shocked, Sempronius opened his mouth to address Quintus’ quip but a sweet chuckle from Honora broke the stern seriousness of the squabble.

“Burn.” She giggled.

The next challenger he fought was not as hard as the last, and though the angel was winged and took to flight often, Quintus used this against him as once one of the wings was crippled beyond use, it had little fighting skill to fall back upon.

It was before the next round, while he was oiling the sword, when the archangel approached. He recognized the Asian-looking man from his trial and he remembered Ozryel calling him out by name.

 _Uriel._ The _acting_ _Left Hand_ of God.

Wrongly assuming that he was there to speak with him, the dhampir stood to address him, but Uriel, his hands clasped together behind his back, walked past him but not before giving him a careful once over as he continued over Honoria. Even though Sempronius was a man of indefinable statuesque posture, he _saw_ the muscle tighten ever so slightly. He was sure not many would notice such a tiny motion, but he did.

 _Sempronius_ did not like this angel … _at all_.

“Sempronius.” Uriel smiled with a nod.

“Uriel.” Sempronius didn’t bother with the smile, but he did afford him a small nod.

“URIEL!” Honoria chortled as she swung around and Uriel’s smile widen further. 

“Hello _Honoria_.” Uriel greeted her warmly, moving his hands to being clasped in the front. “I hope you will be competing this year?”

_Hmmm._

Sempronius shifted, turning his back to the ensuing conversation as Quintus caught the slightest of eye rolls from him. Walking over, he handed the dhampir an alternative blade. “I would recommend a longer blade for the next one. Malakim are twenty feet tall and with an equally impressive arm span.”

Nodding and accepting the suggestion, he put down the gladius and gripped the broadsword that was offered to him as he remained fixated to the conversation behind Sempronius.

“Of course I will.” She said gruffly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“And … will you be _winning_ this year?” He chuckled.

“I don’t think it is up to me whether or not I win, _Left Hand_. I’ll do my best.” She laughed off his comment, but even in the short time that Quintus had known her, he could hear the lie laced within her words and he found it _quite_ curious. _Such a strange thing to lie about …_ isn’t it?

“Well, it is an odd numbered year … Those you _always_ lose.” He heard Uriel shift closer to her and he saw Sempronius look off to the corner as he heard the movement as well. “But, since your son has never seen you fight, you might be open to diverging from your _obvious_ pattern?”

“Pattern? Odd numbered years?” She scoffed clumsily dismissing his allegations. “I don’t know what you mean at all.”

“Mmmm hmmmm.” Uriel said playfully and Quintus raised his eyebrow to Sempronius, who still stared off into the distant corner, keeping his back to the speaking pair but obvious listening to each and every syllable. “Just as you don’t join the contest at _all_ on years that are prime and multiples of three.”

“Uriel.” She tried her best to sound humble. “ _Please_. Who wins and loses is purely up to _Fate_.”

“You like to make them believe as such.” Quintus could hear the grin in these words even without seeing the Archangel’s face from his vantage point.

“It would not be a very fun competition if the same person won _every_ year, would it?” She stated and Uriel laughed.

“Absolutely right.” Uriel laughed merrily. “Perhaps you might be able to convince **_Gabriel_** of that fact as well. Perhaps he can use your _system_.”

“Please, Uriel.” She threw off his logic with a wave of her hand. “You haven’t come here to accuse me of throwing my matches. I think you’ve come for a closer look at Quintus.” 

“I need no excuse to visit a _student_. Especially _you_ , Honoria.” He shifted closer. “Especially not _my best student_.” There was a pause and Uriel turned to face Quintus’ direction and they locked eyes for a brief moment before he turned back to her. “Though … he is shorter than I had assumed the **_son of Sempronius_** would be.” 

_Shorter?_ Was this an insult? The Archangel was easily more than a few inches _shorter_ than he. However, Sempronius _was_ taller than Quintus by at least an inch … but regardless. The insult seemed to affect his father more than him as Sempronius took a sharp break in, closing his eyes for a moment before exhaling to calm himself.

“Come now. Is it _really_ his height that troubles you?” She quipped as Quintus looked down to the ground, beginning to share in Sempronius’ dislike of the _Left Hand_.

“Troubles me?” He laughed out loud in an exaggerated manner, ensuring that both _men_ would hear him. “ _Please_.”

“Then what is it?” Honoria raised her brow to him as she smiled.

“Trust me. It takes more than _a boy_ to trouble me.” He ensured her, hoping to instill in her his overconfidence. “Besides, I’ve seen nothing so far that would warrant concern. He’s a bit _undisciplined_.”

Quintus began an attempt to stand, but Sempronius’ hand was on his arm as they locked eyes and he read the hidden meaning clearly as he relaxed back into his seat.

“Maybe so.” Honoria shrugged as she glanced to Quintus with a smile.

“As much as I would _love_ to catch up … I have to be going.” Uriel looked up at the board. “I apologize for rushing off.”

“Of course.” She pleasantly accepted his apology for the immediate departure.

“I wish you the best of luck today.” Uriel said bowing slightly before he turned. “Though, I _know_ you never need it. I do hope you will put forth your _best_ efforts.”

“Uriel.” She bowed back.

“As always, you’re welcome at the training hall.” He said as he stepped away, stopping at the two seated men as he smiled down to them. “Sempronius.”

“Uriel.” Sempronius forced the name out and the archangel left, without so much as a glance towards the dhampir. As soon as his father was certain the angel was out of earshot, he shook his head as he sneered towards her. “You humor him too much.”

“Oh please. Should I be _rude_ to him? We’re friends.” Honoria waved off the remark. “He came to size up Quintus. It’s obvious.”

“Me?” Quintus asked innocently pointing to his own sternum. “He did not even address me.”

Ignoring his comment, his parents continued to bicker, as Sempronius retorted. “He did NOT come to speak with Quintus. It is _obvious_.”

“Do you hear how foolish you are being?” She dismissed his concern. “Jealousy has **_never_** suited you, Roni. He is a _celestial being_ and I am just–”

“I’m getting a Churro.” Sempronius stated forcefully, standing as he turned to point to her. “Do you want a Churro?” Answering his question with a pout, Honoria crossed her arms to show aggravation and Sempronius turned to Quintus next. “Churro?” That was a type of food, was it not?

“I do not–” He was about to say _eat_ , but no one _had_ to eat here, did they? He really did _not_ want a … _Churro?_

Regardless, Sempronius interrupted him. “ _ **EVERYONE GETS A CHURRO**._ ” And he was off in a huff, walking in the direction of the entrance to visit the food stands beyond, while leaving Quintus blinking at Honoria in confusion.

“He does not seem like someone who would be so easily …” Quintus started and as the next word lingered on his tongue, he halted suddenly. Was he _really_ about to criticize someone else for **_this_** _emotion_? _Hmmm._

“What?” Honoria asked innocently. “Doesn’t seem like what?”

“Umm …” Quintus looked down guiltily continuing to sharpen his sword. “ ** _Jealous_**.”

“Sempronius? Jealous?” She laughed and he exhaled in relief. Perhaps he had misread the situation and he was glad for a moment that he was not _similar_ to Sempronius in yet another way. “ _He’s always been insanely jealous._ ”

_Damnation._

“Well …” Quintus shrugged. “Uriel seems to quite like you so–”

“Oh please!” She barked. “Now you too?” Uh oh. Quintus looked up from his task with wide and puppy-like eyes. “It is _not_ like that.”

“Mmm hmmm.” His fake innocence melted away as he looked up at her with beaming eyes as the side of his mouth twitched in a slight smile.

“He is my teacher.” Waving off the comment as she tried to distract herself in her bag. “Nothing _more_ , nothing _less_.”

“He _teaches_ you?” He asked.

“Well … taught. Well … _trained_.” She sighed. “I had to do _something_ while I was waiting for Sempronius to …” A pause and Quintus was sure she was about to say _die_ , but she chose better words. “Arrive.”

“So …” Quintus _knew_ he should just leave it, but _information_ was power, was it not? “So … you _did_ the Left Hand of God?”

“What?!” She looked up with shock. “No. No! That’s not what I meant. There was no _doing_ , ok? Good lord, you are as bad as _he_ is.” She fussed as she waved her hand in the direction her husband had stomped off.

“I did not mean to imply any judgement in one way or another.” He tried but he could see the topic was much more of a button than he realized. “Ah … So, Uriel taught you how to fight then?” Reading her growing agitation, he attempted to change the subject, but she was still speaking.

“Besides, he has no _right_ to be jealous of anything.” She turned, thrusting the point of a jeweled dagger towards him while she spoke, her voice full of passion. “He was remarried on Earth. Did you know that?!” Quintus shook his head, staring at the blade. “Was I supposed to just wait around like a _good little obedient first wife? HA!_ ”

“So …” Quintus furrowed his brows. “Something _did_ occur?”

“NOTHING HAPPENED. We are friends.” She stated forcefully and plunged her knife back into her bag in anger. “End of discussion.”

 

* * *

 

The [Malakim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angels_in_Judaism) was indeed twenty feet tall, but it was obvious its kind was not built for battle. The length of the broadsword was incredibly useful and the match was the shortest that he would fight that day.

However, the following match was _quite_ unexpected. As he walked out, he was greeted with the all too familiar shadow that had been attached to him for months.

 _Before him stood Bene Puriel_.

She was an absolutely stunning beauty of incredible stature and skill. Slender though muscular, her shoulders were wide, yet she was still extremely feminine. Her height matched Quintus exactly. Her hair was thick, black, and straight, pulled into a tight ponytail and her skin was a metallic copper.

She rarely smiled, but as he locked eyes with her, she did so now.

“Are you prepared for a _real_ challenge now, _Prince of Snakes?_ ” She said as she drew her blade and swung it in a circular fashion as she used the nickname that he hadn’t heard since Barqan.

“With all due respect.” He bowed. “I doubt **_you_** are the one to provide that feat.”

While she was faster and stronger _and_ better trained than _any_ man he had ever fought, he proved that she was _not_ up for that challenge, even though the fight lasted longer than any thus far. She withdrew often, attempting to read what his next move might be and he found her fighting style more _defensive_ than _offensive_. This likely worked on beings with less patience, of which Quintus was not one.

Her strategy fell apart once she realized that he was not just _hard to predict_ , but, as the _Master_ had learned over several thousand years, he was completely unpredictable.

Each time he had stepped out into the arena, he could hear a sighed huff of annoyance from the Governor. Each time he had proved victorious, the Governor would bellow an obvious disappointing “ _Densus_ is the victor” into the crowd and this win was no different.

In all honesty, he quite liked _disappointing_ the Governor and each time, he would bow towards him, just as he had done with the Patrician class in Ancient Rome.

But of _all_ the opponents that he had previously fought that day, the fire [Seraph](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seraph) was the one that caused him _the most pain_. Sempronius offered him leather vambraces for his forearms, which Quintus initially refused. Luckily his father did not take _no_ for an answer.

“I do not require armour.” Quintus declared. “I find it is more cumbersome than useful. I heal quickly.”

“Even so.” Sempronius refused to accept his refusal, pushing the leather pieces against his chest and forcefully holding them there until Quintus took them. “But I doubt you have ever fought a _Phoenix_ before, have you?”

A … _Phoenix_?  He gulped.

Stepping out into the arena, his eyes grew wide as he beheld something so bright and majestic that he gasped. This being gave new meaning to ‘burning one’ as it was nothing short of a dragon on fire. Its skin was covered in scales, and its, not two, but six wings were covered in burning feathers. There was no part of its body that was not on fire and the brightness that it projected, Quintus could tell, was pure sunlight.

He tightened the harness grips on the leather forearm guards and the beast cackled in a thunderous and resonating voice. “Do you really think those will protect you from _my fire_ , half-breed?”

Well, he _hoped_ and … they partly _did_ , but he could still feel the heat through them and he realized quickly into the round that he was not able to touch any part of its body without being brutally singed by it. Concern washed over him when the first burn he received did not heal as quickly as he assumed it would. And it _hurt_. There was supposed to be no pain here, was there? It throbbed and stung, distracting him from planning his next counter.

There was a brief moment when he faltered, stepping back and holding his hand up in a defensive manner. This was the first moment today that he had began to doubt himself and that is when he heard _her_ reassure him from within. 

> “[Seraphiel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seraphiel) may be the highest of the Seraphim, but he is still no match for you, Quintus.” Ozryel’s voice rang inside his mind. She was watching and he’d almost forgotten that they could speak this way. “He is relying on you fearing the burn. Push through the pain. Ignore it. You can _heal_ afterwards.”

_Indeed._ When he walked from the field having been declared the victor again, he estimated that less than ten percent of his entire body was left uncharred.

 

* * *

 

It was some time before his next bout and he sat calmly, allowing his spirit to heal whatever damage the _elemental_ being had inflicted upon him. Healing the wounds were almost as painful as receiving them and he was reminded of that incredible pain when _Michael_ had urged him to heal himself during his last battle with the _Master_ on that fateful island. Sitting with his back against the wall, he shut his eyes as memories of that _entire_ last day replayed in his mind, from its euphoric beginning to its agonizing end.

“You are up.” Sempronius woke him from his torturous thoughts and he stood, cracking his neck from side to side.

“Any advice for _this one_?” Quintus asked as he wiped the blade clean of the dust that had accumulated on it.

“This one? _Advice_?” Sempronius turned to verify what he already knew, looking over the leader board. As he turned back to face Quintus with a serious face, he heard Honoria giggle from her seat. Had he asked a funny question? “ _Just try to lose_ **_gracefully_**.”

Quintus furrowed his brows as he turned to see the board and read the name of his next victim upon it.

 _Uriel_.

“ _Hmmm_.” He pondered loudly. “You think him impossible to defeat?”

“Uriel is _Elohim_. The Second Brood, but still the _Left Hand_ of God.” Honoria said as she stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The _only_ non-Hayyoth to ever be granted a place _beside_ God. You don’t have something like that handed to you. You _earn_ it.”

“So … “ Quintus glared at the seemingly Asian man across the way as their eyes locked and he saw the faintest of smirks spread across his face. “He is _a capable fighter then_? Good. Perhaps this one will be worth the time.”

“I think you might be missing the point. You should just be happy that you’ve made it to the semi-finals. That’s an impressive feat by itself.” Sempronius said but Quintus was already approaching the entrance, disregarding the words as he walked out onto the dirt of the arena floor.

 

* * *

 

The angel stood perfectly still and when the chime rang to start the match, he made no motion to draw his sword. In fact, he did not move at all. He just stood and watched Quintus for a moment, squinting at him and waiting.

“Did I miss something? Is this a staring contest?” Quintus quipped as he gripped his weapon and pointed it towards the _Elohim_. “I was expecting something more … “ His practical mind warned him _not to say_ it, but his ego plowed forth with the regretful word. “ _Impressive_.”

There was a raise of an eyebrow and a slight grin of one side of his mouth before Uriel, in one gloriously fluid movement, opened both of his hands, spinning them in mesmerizing circles in front, as he stepped up onto one foot, then down into a deep and exaggerated stance. Still not drawing his blade that was strapped to his back, exactly where Quintus usually carried his, he brought one hand back to rest against his stomach as the other hand remained in front, both open palmed. He used an inviting wave of his open fingers to entice Quintus forward: _come_. 

  


 He’d seen similar circular movement before and he was unimpressed. The man looked like he was performing a silly dance in front of Quintus and the dhampir laughed at the show. He’d defeated _many_ men who thought their training was something to be _feared_.

“So, you are a Martial Artist then? Seriously?” Quintus scoffed at the entertaining jig. How … _stereotypical_. “Shaolin Kung fu? Wushu?” Uriel stood still, ignoring his baits. “Perhaps something older? [Varma Kalai](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FVarma_kalai&t=NDkyMDdmNWMyNjhhYWJhMmY4M2E4YjE0ZTNlZDJmNjcxYTEzN2FiYixBRVIxMmdEMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161263572183%2Fchapter-56-descent&m=1)? [Kalaripayattu](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FKalaripayattu&t=ZGQxZDFlOTAzNTkyOTk5NzQ5NDUzYzEwNWE4ZjM5MDhhMWQ5MDIwOCxBRVIxMmdEMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161263572183%2Fchapter-56-descent&m=1)?” 

>  [ _Strength of a Thousand Men - Thomas Bergersen_](https://open.spotify.com/track/3GJZLvGXaVszYdSBLMtJFX)

The archangel laughed out loud. “I don’t really care what _Man_ called it after **_I_** taught it to _them_.” 

_Wait … what? After_ **_he_** _taught it to_ **_them_**?

_Hmm, perhap Sempronius–_

Quintus cocked his head to the right as the words sunk in and he might have thrown another insult, but the man was already upon him, closing the gap with speed that clearly surpassed his own and as the first strike landed between his ribs, he felt the air expelled violently.

There wasn’t time for him to spin and attempt his own blow before the second punch landed in his opposite ribs and he was gasping desperately for air. Stumbling forward, he swung the blade in an upward motion to where the Elohim had just been, but Uriel was already _behind_ him, striking again to the kidneys while also kicking the back of his knee in. Quintus buckled to the ground.

His only thoughts were screaming at him to retreat and he scrambled away desperately, clawing through the dirt and rocks beneath him. When he had put enough distance between them, he regained his footing and slowly realized that Uriel had _allowed_ him to escape. There was no doubt in Quintus’ mind that if Uriel wanted the fight to be over, he could have easily have ended it right then and there. 

The angel sighed and smiled, looking down at Quintus’ dropped weapon. Tucking the tip of his boot under the middle of the blade, he kicked it up, flinging it towards the dhampir and Quintus plucked it out of the air, grabbing the handle tightly as he snarled towards the _Left Hand_.

“Now.” Uriel said, performing the same dance as before, preparing himself for round two. “How about _you_ show _me_ something **_impressive_** this time.”

_Oh dear god._

* * *

  

> _[ Victory - Thomas Bergersen ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2F9xBxKbx2M0pbgtSu8fLf) _

 

It was not possible. Victory was _not possible_. He panted into the dirt as his rage ratcheted to the next level. If there hadn’t been a stadium full of people, he would have punched the ground like an angry child, but _all_ eyes were on him now. And what made it all the worse, was that the archangel was obviously toying with him. As he stood, dragging himself to his feet for the tenth time … tenth? Twelfth? _Perhaps more …_ He had actually lost count. Uriel kicked the blade back up to him and he grabbed it from the air as he showed his teeth again.

He had performed _the same_ technique against Quintus, over and over and over again. It was getting the point of being embarrassing and Quintus wasn’t sure if this was a _competition_ or a _lesson_.

“Your form is sloppy. Your stance … Terrible. How did you make it this far?” Uriel stated without emotion as he circled his furiously dangerous dhampir prey and Quintus snarled at the insults. “You’ve relied on your abilities without bothering to learn any type of proper discipline _or_ control. _Disappointing_.”

Quintus sneered, showing his discolored teeth even more to the graceful serpent before him. “Trust me, _Left Hand_. I’ve shown you _nothing_ but control.” That was a total lie. After he’d downed him the third time, Quintus had lost _all semblance_ of control.

“Does it anger you? You are no longer _the fastest_ or _the strongest_ , boy.” Uriel stated. “Not _here_. If you desire victory, then _earn it_ with some modicum of skill or be forced to embrace defeat.”

Had _anyone_ ever spoken to him so brazenly? Not anyone who lived, save for possibly the _Master_ and the _Master_ was not alive any longer, so no. Not anyone who lived. This man … no … this _angel_ was not afraid of him and from what had just occurred … repeatedly, he had every right not to be. He felt like a _fucking_ child again.

“Do you wish to conversate or fight?” Quintus spat at the amused angel.

“To fight of course!” Uriel threw his hands up the crowd and applause rang out. Quintus was _certain_ he heard the bellowing laugh of Gabriel from somewhere as well and that just made this experience all the worse. “I was welcoming a challenge _finally_. Especially from _Honoria’s_ son. I’d heard _so very many promising things_.” Uriel insulted. “I expected a _General_. Instead, I’m faced with a _child_. Are you _certain_ that you are _hers_?”

“DO NOT–” He began a bellowing snarl but that familiar voice rang within his head, sharply bringing his mind back to focus. **_Ozryel_**. 

> “Calm yourself, Quintus. He baits you, my boy. And you have _always_ been _so susceptible_ to it.”
> 
> “I cannot defeat him.” Quintus spoke back, his voice was rich in growing disappointment.
> 
> “Probably not. He is quite good and he’s had hundreds of more millennia to practice than you … but …” Ozryel trailed off.
> 
> “But _what_?” He pushed as Uriel advanced again and he found himself retreating. _Had he ever retreated so readily, without a plan of attack before?_
> 
> “Perhaps we can _spank_ him a bit first though.” There was a tinge of delight in her voice.
> 
> “How? I cannot even land a single strike!” Quintus was desperate. He hated feeling so weak … _so human._
> 
> “Then let me help you.”
> 
> “I don’t understand how you can–”
> 
> “You need to trust me.” Ozryel purred confidently. “Take a whee, tiny step back for just a moment, my dear boy.”

_A step … back?_

The thought of allowing Ozryel any type of control over him caused his heart rate to jump, but when Uriel advanced further, he felt _himself_ ducking back both physically as well as mentally. Everything slowed around them as Ozryel sidestepped the same punch again, moving faster than Quintus thought he was capable of.

She dodged the blow by only an inch out from its path as she brought Quintus’ elbow down, cutting it into the forearm muscle of the punching arm and Uriel winched at the pain. Ozryel never lost a beat, never hesitating as she spun with a dance, much like Uriel had continued to do to him, around his body until she was behind him and she hit him in the kidneys _just_ as he had done to Quintus so very many times.

He felt himself smile as she finished off with the _same_ attack, kicking the back of his knee as he _almost_ buckled, but he regained his footing quickly as his elbow struck up, towards their jaw. 

> “Oooof. Almost didn’t see that one coming.” Ozryel chortled as she barely dodged. “Slippery fucker, isn’t he?”

She remained in the same stance, making no motion other than to help his elbow strike along, pushing it up and over with Quintus’ palm, forcefully causing Uriel to take several steps back as he spun around to get his bearings. The extra step he taken at the end exposed his backside to her and she used Quintus’ other free hand to swat his bottom loudly.

Laughter erupted from the stands and Quintus felt himself blush. Did she just … did she just _spank_ him with _Quintus’_ body?!? _OH GOOD LORD._

> “ _Ozryel!!! NO!!!_ ” Quintus screamed with absolute embarrassment as he thrust himself back in control of his faculties and she broke out into uncontrollable laughter.
> 
> “ _Hey! Not yet! Not yet! I wasn’t done yet!”_ She complained through her unabating cackle. “I warned you we were going to spank him!!!”
> 
> “Figuratively!!! NOT literally!!!”
> 
> “Oh.” That damn chuckle again. “You should know me better than that by now.”

However shameful the act was, it was well worth the look on Uriel’s face when he spun back around to face Quintus, his eyes full of rage. 

“I …” Quintus stuttered. “I apologize. I did not intend–”

 _Damnation. So much for_ **_gracefully_** _losing._

“WOO HOO! FINALLY! SOME REAL ENTERTAINMENT!!!” He heard Ozryel scream from above and the stadium erupted with more laughter and applause. It might have all been worth it, except Uriel was no longer amused and the next move was a grapple, as he flung Quintus around like a rag doll, forcing him into a sleeper hold as the dhampir fought violently to escape.

Of all the ways for him to lose this day, he cringed at the memories that _this_ hold was drumming up within his mind. The shame that flooded over him wasn’t due to the fact that he was about to lose, but it was because, in the arms of this powerful and strong being, he was _completely_ and _utterly_ powerless. This was the same way that he had _silenced_ Dawn his final day on Earth. This was the last act that he had performed on her. The last time he had touched her, he had made her _powerless_.

Tears filled his ice-blue eyes as he did everything he could to break the hold, desperately scratching, kicking, and bucking against the action. In his entire life, he had _never_ felt so powerless and the second before the blackness washed over his eyes, while the wind kicked up and blew sand into his eyes, all he could think was that _this_ was the last thing he had made his _Poet_ feel.

 _This was the most painful revelation he’d_ **_ever_** _experienced._

 _He had promised her that she could trust him … he had_ **_promised_**.

_Oh gods._

* * *

“Victor is **_Uriel_**.” Michael bellowed and Ozryel thrust her chained hands out, thumbs pointing down.

“BOOOO!!!” She screamed. “BOOOO!!! NOT A FAIR FIGHT AT ALL!”

“Not a fair fight, huh?” Raphael stated as she turned to catch a disapproving look on her little brother’s face.

“ _What_?” Oz said innocently. “How is _that_ fair? Uriel is like … a MILLION times older than he is. Poor Quintus. He’s just a _baby_.”

“ _Uh huh_.” Raphael said as he raised his eyebrow at her accusingly. “But, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Quintus … _spank_ someone before.”

“ _What_?” She giggled madly. “I know for _a fact_ that he’s spanked people before. **_Very_** recently in fact.”

Raphael couldn’t help but laugh now. “ _That_ is _not_ what I was referring too and you know it.”

“No idea what you are talking about.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “But it was pretty funny, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It was. The look on Uriel’s face.” Nodding, he smiled and laughed again, looking at Ozryel with eyes of relief and happiness. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Me too.” She said as she sighed, leaning the side of her head against Raphael’s shoulder. “Missed _me_ too that is.”

They both chuckled and watched on as the other semi-final battle between Gabriel and Michael completed. And then the short final between Gabriel and Uriel, with Gabriel, as always, taking the prize.

 

* * *

 

The Battle of Man was next and most of the celestial beings, not willing to even waste their time on such an event so beneath them, shuffled out of the stadium and Quintus found it only half full when the human competitions began. It wasn’t until Honoria walked out onto the field for her first round that he noticed all eyes were quietly upon her and he didn’t realize until it began _why_.

“You know, it all made so much sense.” It was Raphael’s voice from somewhere behind him. He could hear the angel advancing upon him slowly. “When Oz told me _her_ name.”

“What made sense?” He asked, unable to tear his eyes from the spectacle that he was witnessing. She moved similarly to Uriel, but there was something more organic to how she flung her body. Uriel was calculating and precise, whereas Honoria was entirely _unpredictable_ , just like he was.

“That you were _hers_.” The angel said and Quintus finally saw him out of his peripheral vision as he walked up and stood next to the dhampir. “When she fights … it’s less technique and more … _feeling_.”

“Indeed.” Quintus watched as she floored the man while swinging her body around similar to a ballerina. “And … You think I fight like this?”

There was a chuckle. “You’ve never seen yourself fight, have you, Quintus?”

As the match ended and he watched the small, blonde woman exit to prepare for the next round, he turned to face the Hayyoth. “I would be _quite impressive_ if I could manage _that feat_.”

Raphael laughed out loud at his quipping humour. “Well, you do. You both fight with …” The angel seemed to be stuck on the correct word to use.

“Precision?” Or perhaps _rhythm_ would have been a better word? “Training?”

“Passion.” Raphael smiled. “Unyielding and furious _passion_.”

 _Indeed_. “Uriel’s training has proved worthwhile.” He asked and Raphael grinned.

“Honoria was _impressive_ before Uriel took note of her, Quintus.” As he reached out, he placed a hand on his shoulder and gripped it. “Do you really think an average _human teenager_ could have escaped the _Master_? If she hadn’t been _truly_ exceptional, Quintus, you would have never been born.”

Quintus smiled. “There are no coincidences … only _eventualities_.”

“I like that.” Raphael nodded. “And … for what it’s worth, I’ve known _Uriel_ since he was born and Honoria is the _only_ human pupil that he has ever accepted in Heaven.”

Quintus laughed uncomfortably. "Ah yes. You have seen the interest as well?”

“She is the only human that he allows in the training hall. She hasn’t been in some time, but perhaps you can accompany her. She might be able to teach you a few things. Or even possibly _Uriel_.”

“I may indeed visit it. But, _Sempronius_ is not permitted?” Quintus asked and Raphael cringed slightly.

Expertly ignoring Quintus’ questions as he often did, he smiled as he turned to leave. “I would give it some time before you go though. It is _Uriel’s_ domain and …” Raphael chuckled. “You did just _spank_ him.”

_Damnation._

“However, if you show up with Honoria, he might be more accommodating.”


	41. Interlude 5 - Between the Desire and the Spasm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## Disclaimer
> 
> So … So … So … I says to myself …I says, “ **SELF!** How can I make this even _**more**_ intimate … Lets crank this puppy up to a thousand then.”
> 
> Ok ok. On a serious note, I still find these chapters VERY DIFFICULT to write. I worry, quite a bit, about being taken seriously as a writer when I venture into this level of intimacy with my characters, and I will be honest … I _always_ feel _**very**_ creepy. And what sucks about that is, it’s not because I don’t enjoy writing or reading this stuff. When it is well done, it can be a masterpiece. It’s because of the judgement that will _inevitably_ get lobbed at the story for even the presence of it. The Infantilizing of our Societal brain has made the subject of writing about sex quite taboo and its infuriating.
> 
> At the end of the day, I enjoy fanfic because it almost always strives to give a more _**intimate**_ view of the characters we love, so withholding that very key aspect of the story simply because _**some**_ people are too immature to appreciate it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the audience, so I leave it up to _**you**_ , as free thinking individuals, to read _this_.
> 
> So, if you are here _**ONLY**_ for the incredible original characters + plot and you just want to focus on that, I encourage you to just skip this chapter. This is mature content and honestly, I would rather the story _**not**_ be judged negatively by the presence of adult oriented themes.
> 
> * _see the end of the chapter for more notes_ *
> 
>   
>    
> 

#### Interlude 5 - Between the Desire and the Spasm 

 The bite was much harder than he had planned, but the distress that her tickling was causing to his most fragile area of skin had caused his heart to race a bit too fast and his excitement got the better of him. He knew it was _too hard_ when his teeth tore into her precious flesh and she whimpered under his unyielding strength. He could have pulled back and apologized but, as they had already decided … _no apologies_. Instead, he spun her around in his grip, forcing her down onto the creaking cot beneath him as she stared up to him with bewilderment.

When he gazed upon her fully, he found her eyes were growing wider with anger as she stared down to the blood still smeared across his lower lip. He licked himself clean of the red juice and she frowned at him while he returned a wicked smile.

“You …” She started, full of disappointment. “You weren’t …” A dramatic sigh as she relaxed and gave in to his obvious domination. “So … I was _never_ in control then.”

“You **_still_** don’t get it yet, _do you_?” He purred down to her, lowering his face to take her lips but she refused him, turning away as her palms flew to his chest in an attempt to thrust him away. He laughed out loud at the futility of the act, releasing her hair and shifting his grip to her wrists, holding them down on either side of her head. “Or do I need to **_spell_** it out for you?”

He dropped his mouth to her neck to press his nose against the skin and take in a deep breath of her _angelica_ scent as he rattled, breathing softly into her ear before he took the bottom lobe of it into his impatient mouth, nibbling on it delicately. “I will be _very_ disappointed if I need to explain it fully it to you.”

“What don’t I get?” She wiggled and spat in defiance as she struggled furiously against his forced detainment, attempting to force his face from her skin and he only rattled further, burrowing deeper. “You were just _playing_ with me.”

“Mmmmmm.” He quite liked her body pushing on him. Being this close, she was so warm and her intense scent invaded and overwhelmed his welcoming senses. “Were you not _just_ doing the same to me?” He said matter of factly and she turned her face from his next attempt to kiss her as he growled. “Toying with me? Winding me up …” He chuckled down to his _prey_ as he pulled back to regard her beautifully angry and contorted face. “ _What_? Do you not find _this_ fun any longer? I assure you … It _can_ be.” He trilled loudly as he attempted to take _yet another_ another kiss. “ _It_ **_will_** _be_.”

She made an effort to escape again and his mouth found the small cut on her neck as he mouth pressed greedily against the crevice and she shuddered when his tongue pushed her skin apart, releasing the liquid he craved from within. Though this _dream_ was incredibly vivid, he knew he didn’t need the sustenance and unfortunately it actually didn’t have the same taste as her blood did in reality but he moaned at the sensation regardless, _remembering_ and relishing just the idea of her incredibly unique flavor. He found it so distasteful the first time but now that thought seemed ludicrous.

He was nearly lost in _just_ the thought of the act alone when he heard her whimper at the sharpness of his teeth playing ruthlessly against her torn flesh. Immediately he relented at tasting her further, burying his head against her temple with a deep sigh as he forced control over his impulses. Regardless of how much he desperately craved to be made one with whatever was deep within her blood, her body could provide _other, far more pressing_ desires that he wished to satiate. These were overpowering every part of his being and he breathed her _angelica_ scent in again deeply, groaning as he did so. “ _Mmmmmm_.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could get out?” She asked, her disappointment in him was obvious but he smiled through it. She had _no right_ to judge him after the game she had played.

“Curiosity.” He stared at her for a moment as his eyebrow raised. “Perhaps I was even a bit … _hopeful_.”

“Hopeful?” She asked with a pout as she pulled furiously at her wrists and his grip tightened as he showed his teeth with a snarl, causing her to wince and halt the struggle. “Hopeful for what?”

“We will discuss _that_ soon.” Dismissing her query, he peeked over the side of the bed. “But, _first_ thing’s _first_. I warned you quite clearly, _Lula_.”

 _“Warned me?”_ She scoffed and her own smile faded as a sinister and rather wicked look spread across his pale face.

 _“Indeed_.” He bent down again as he rubbed his larger nose against the tip of her petite one, his voice flirtatious in tone. “ _Repercussions._ ”

Her eyes grew concerned as his hold on her grew tighter and he forced her hands up, putting them together over her head. Bringing her wrists together to allowed him to grasp them both a single hand and he shifted his legs so that _he_ straddled _her_ lightly while he slid his _now free_ hand under her back and across her body as he grabbed the pant loop on her far hip. In one perfectly smooth and easy movement, he spun her beneath him so that she was now facing the mattress.

With his one hand remaining its hold on both of hers, he reached through the railings to grab the discarded wad of tape on the ground below and he heard her heartbeat quicken suddenly.

“Quintus.” She panted but his legs pinched around her hips tightly as he released her wrists finally and began to untangle the tape free of itself, working fast as she attempted to push up forcefully from the mattress and wiggled out from under him. “What are you doing?!”

“Come now, dragonfly. Do not play _coy_ with me. I believe that is already _quite_ obvious.” He chuckled and she began to fight desperately as he grabbed her wrists against, shoving them each through the overhead frame’s vertical bar before he began to bind them together on the other side using the tape more as rope than how he had been bound. “I believe the term is … _turnabout is fair play_ , is it not?”

“Please.” She breathed with a quaking voice as he felt her body begin to tremble beneath him.

“You wish me to release you?” He whispered down into her ear with warm breath and she nodded. He could read her growing apprehension of being restrained and he understood why. “I requested release, but you _denied_ me.” An impatient rattle escaped his strigoi throat. “Did you not?”

“I …” She was in the moment before sheer panic would overwhelm her and he was actually _not_ enjoying this anymore as her apprehension caused him shame. “I really _would_ have let you go. I swear.”

“Do you _really_ think that I will not release you?” He asked simply as he finished the final knot and sat up fully, looking down at her as she revolted against on his handiwork.

“I …” Her heart raced too quickly for her to form a sentence and he bowed down against her again, as he stroked her hair gently. “I’m sor–” She attempted and he hushed her immediately.

“No apologies … _remember_?” He whispered. “That was _your_ demand.”

“I …” She pulled on her hands. “Please, I can’t … You don’t under–”

“ _Understand_?” He finished her sentence. “You think I do _not_ understand?” He asked simply. “ _You have seen my_ **_back_**. Something _few_ have … and you think I do not _understand_?”

“I …” She stuttered again and he purred into the back of her neck affectionately, attempting to calm her.

“I _know_ why your heart races …” He said as he ran his fingers through her dirty hair, picking it up as he took in the aurora. “The same reason mine raced when you had me in this room the _first night_ we were face to face. The same reason I acted rashly against you.”

“If you know, then …” Her voice cracked and he knew she was on the verge of tears. “Is this …” Her fear pained him, but this reaction was unacceptable. This reaction was _dangerous_ for her. “This is payback?”

“Calm your heart, _Lula_.” He commanded, brushing his hand across her hair and then her back as she tensed under him. “Your heart races because you are allowing your _fear_ to _control_ you.”

Revolting against his instruction, she pulled furiously as she bucked under him, desperate to free herself, lashing back and forth as he sat back up, waiting for the fit to finish. “Please! LET ME GO. YOU DON’T UNDERST–”

“Calm your heart.” He said again. He placed his hand on her head as she bit into the bed sheet underneath, her the tears flowed. “Calm your _soul_.”

“DON’T!” She screamed as her head rocked back violently, knocking his hand from her head. “Let me go!”

“I will release you when you calm yourself.” He said, unwilling to relent to her tantrum. “I will release you when you control your fear.” Instead of putting his hand on her skull this time, he placed his forehead against the back of her head and brushed against it lovingly. “Calm your heart. It is dangerous for you to let this control you. I know you fear but … never let that control you.”

 _Please._ He urged with his mind. _Please do not fear me. Control your fear._

“I …” His continued touch soothed her fit and he felt her breathe deeply under his weight as her fists unclenched. “I can’t …”

“You can. I know you can, because **_I could_** and you are _stronger_ than I am.” He closed his eyes as he rocked his head against hers. “I have seen incredible _control_ from you. Whatever has rattled you _now_ is unfounded. Do you think I would _ever_ harm you?”

“I don’t know.” She hissed.

“I will _not_ harm you _ever again_. I _promise_.” 

>  [ _Dark Star - Jaymes Young_](https://open.spotify.com/track/1VTxq4gRIoTSgmbO5ttMoI)
> 
> _I’ve looked a long time to find you_
> 
> _I drifted through the universe, just to lay_
> 
> _Beside you_
> 
> _Anywhere you want me to take you, I’ll go_
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> _But there’s things about me that you just don’t know_
> 
> _If I told you where I’ve been_
> 
> _Would you still call me baby?_
> 
> _And if I told you everything_
> 
> _Would you call me crazy?_
> 
> _‘Cause baby I’m a dark star_

“You …” She sighed deeply and he could feel her body begin to tense up again. “You tried to kill me …” She accused in a hopeless attempt to justify her needless terror.

At this, he unintentionally laughed, possibly far too loudly and he sighed deeply as she cringed at his chuckle. “That is truly absurd, you realize, dragonfly.” Another deep breath of her in as he stroked her hair. “If, at _any_ point since _we first met_ , I had _wanted_ you _dead_ , you simply would have been.” Another brush of her skin and her heart slowed with each touch. “If I had _ever_ wished for _that_ outcome, there would have been nothing _you_ could have done to stop it.”

As vicious as they were, there was undeniable truth in his words and he felt the tension begin to melt from her body.

“I could have drank you until your heart stopped. Until your body collapsed against me and you faded away within my arms. Until I had _had_ my _fill_ and more.”

Relaxing onto her back, being careful not to crush her with the weight of his powerful body, he laid his cheek against her arm so that he could look directly into her face as he spoke.

“I could have just snapped your neck. Given you a quick and painless death …” He confessed calmly even though uttering the words to her made his heart ache. “I considered it. To be _merciful_ to you. I am not a kind person and I considered this a gratitude for your kindness to me.”

His hand smoothed the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear to expose her face clearly to him.

“Or … I could have _left you_ here to die on this bed …” He admitted, exposing his _past_ shameful nature to her. “I even tried to. I walked from this _very_ room and I _commanded_ myself to not return.”

His finger traced the line of her cheek down to her jaw and across her lips.

“I could have even let the lap dog finish you on that roof. At _that_ moment, the payment for _my revenge_ was _finally_ due. What I had sought for two thousand years, and yet the price turned out higher than I could have ever prepared myself for.” His lips pressed against her cheek.

“Why didn’t you just pay it? I wish you had.” Her words cut into his soul as she frowned and her voice cracked with sadness. “It would have been over and you could have put him into that box. And you wouldn’t have to–”

“No.” He furrowed his brows at her. “No.”

“Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to be grateful to you? Does it make you feel _even more in control?_ ”

“That is _exactly_ the opposite of what I am trying to say.”

“Do you want me to feel guilty you gave it up to save … _me_?” She asked quietly and the question made him grimace. She wasn’t getting it.

“You gave up _yours_ for _me_. Did you not?” He countered as her nostrils flared with aggravation. “Oh _Libellula_.” Purring, he smiled warmly as he brushed the bridge of her nose. “You **_still_** don’t get it do you?”

“I don’t like this riddle, Quintus.” She was not amused in any way. His grin was only inciting her sadness more as she tugged on her hands again and her frustration began to mount. “What don’t I _get_?! _SPELL_ it out for me already.”

“Since the instant you saved me …” His nose brushed hers again as his hand smoothed her hair. “Since the moment you flicked that switch, saving my miserable and undeserving life … _You are the one who’s been in_ **_control_** _… of me_.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face and the freedom of the confession washed over him. “What’re you talking about?”

“Every instant, when I _should_ have done what I always have … _every moment_ … I _tried_ to force myself to conform to who I always had been, but I could not …” His lips pecked the tip of her perfect nose before he smiled again, matching her eyes as he stared at the coloration within them. “I haven’t been in _any type_ of _control_ since the moment we met.”

“That’s …” She said and he saw the tears threatening to well and he shook his head. “Bullshit.”

“It is the truth.” He said but he knew exactly where she was going to go next with her words.

“If I was the one in _control_ , then you wouldn’t be doing _this_ … “ He knew they were no longer talking about the dream or even the _Duct Tape_. He knew they were talking about what would happen tonight and he shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. “Then we wouldn’t be considering–”

“As I have already stated …” A deep breath. “The _cost_ of _waiting_ to find another way is one that I have already proved _quite_ incapable of paying.” The cost of not just her _life_ , but her very _existence_.

“Then I’m obviously _not_ in control.” She countered in defeat and he found himself shrugging slightly at the observation.

“Perhaps we are _both_ equally _out of control_ , but … ” Nuzzling his forehead against hers, he smiled even through her frustration as he placed a chaste kiss upon her _welcoming_ lips. He was worried she would turn from him again, but she accepted the touch.

“Then it’s _my fault_ you’re doing this. Rushing off with some ridiculous plan.” He stared down at her quivering lower lip as he shook his head again. “You should have just left me in this room then.”

“No.” There was no part of himself that even considered that thought a positive one. “I am grateful to you in a way that is _difficult_ for me to adequately express.”

“Grateful?” She balked.

“My life has never been my own. It was forfeit the moment I was born from _the Master_. It has always been this way.” He tried to explain. “Our fates have been forever tied.”

“ _No_. I don’t accept that. You might, but I don’t. We find _another_ way.” The desperation was clear as she stared down to his mouth. “We find _another fucking_ way. You’re making _me_ pay the price _you_ won’t–”

“It is a dark misery to live _only_ for the prospect of eventual _revenge_. It is like poison that rots you from within and you become clouded to all the _beauty_ in the world around you. It is an addiction of the soul and I had spent millennia steeping in it. But now, you have given me something I thought entirely impossible. I approach the end of my _long_ and _tortuous_ days with …”

He was not even sure how to convey clearly what it was. It had gone far beyond just _love_ at this point as she had provided him with renewed … “ ** _Purpose_**. I have spent _so long_ being _defined_ by _my grief_ , that I lost sight of what it was like to be _alive_.”

The loss of his mother, his wife, his daughter … all of _his friends_ , young and old. He was told that _his_ life was _always_ more important than anyone else’s and he was _always_ the one left behind in the end. “But now, I go forth to my final battle, no longer fueled by the rage of loss _and_ regret. Instead, I go knowing that I am fighting for _the love_ of what I _have_ and **_not_** for the _vengeance_ of what I have already _lost_. Do you understand?”

He _hoped_ she did and some tiny, dark part of his mind actually _knew_ she did somehow. “It’s not fair.” She pouted with her brows and he wiped the single tear from her cheek that she had been unable to retrain. “It’s not fair.”

“Life is _never_ fair.” He countered with obvious wisdom. “ _You_ , of all people, as young as you may be, already know that.” Shifting back up, he reached above her for the tape, beginning to unknot it to release her. “Now, I will free you.”

“Wait …” She said quietly. “I …”

“You wish to be free, yes?” He asked as he undid the first knot but he received no answer and he grinned slightly. “Yes?” She offered no answer again as he could see her considering the options. Stopping the act of untying, he leaned down close to her ear, asking again. “ _Yes_?”

“Yes …” She finally said to which he frowned, pulling on the next knot before she spoke softly again. “But maybe just not yet …”

“Not yet?” The seriousness of the conversation had distracted him from his _initial_ thoughts when he had first restrained her and he halted the tape untying entirely as he bent down to whisper into her ear playfully. “What would you wish me to do _instead_ of releasing you?”

“What did you have in mind … earlier?” She questioned nervously as she cleared her throat mid-way through the sentence. “What were you _hopeful_ for?”

“Are you _offering_ me …” As the blood began to pump fiercely through his veins, he rattled uncontrollably when his body begin to tingle with increased anticipation. “… Whatever I wish to take, _Lula_?”

“Nevermind.” He saw the rush of red spread across her cheeks and he smiled at her growing embarrassment over the _unknown_ possibilities of what might be running through his mind. “You can untie me.”

“Mmmmm. I _will_ …” He thrilled as he took a breath of the back of her neck in, trailing his hands down the back of her arms, retreating from the tape. She was entirely relaxed now and her anxiety of being restrained fully abated as her trust in him was restored and absolute. “Perhaps you are correct though … _not yet_. You were clearly warned … _repercussions_. It would be quite _unlike_ me to allow such an affront without the consequence, I assured you.”

Nervous intrigue danced in her tone as she asked. “ _Repercussions?_ Are you going to _spank_ me again? Because, I _really_ didn’t like that. _Really didn’t like it_.”

“I was not _planning_ on that _again … no._ ” As he sat back, seated on the fleshiest part of her hamstrings, straddling hers as his knees pinched her legs together, his hands found their way down her back, following her hips around underneath her to the front of her pants as he unbuttoned and unzipped them with ease. Her pulse beat faster as he pulled the lip of her pants down passed her mid thighs, catching the underwear with them as he exposed her backside fully to him.

She remained entirely still until he began to unbuckle his own belt and her head turned to watch with curiously as he pulled the metal free and then unclasped the leather from its hold. Smiling as he watched her eyes growing wider as he unbuttoned and unzipped slowly as if he was putting on a show for her.

Disappointment washed over her face as he came back down on all fours around her, not allowing her to see what he was pulling freeing as he pulled his underwear down and he grinned at her interest. She obviously liked to look at him as much as he enjoyed seeing her. What a feeling it was, to be accepted and desired so _absolutely_.

He purred a low growls as she wiggled underneath him, expecting him to grab her hips and pull her to her knees, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his straddle, pushing himself down into the flesh between her closed legs as he spread her cheeks to allow easier access. Nudging just the tip into the darkness within, he pushed until he felt the entirely of his head enter and she half groaned before he pulled back out immediately, sliding it up, between her cheeks. 

>  [ _Hard Liquor - SOHN_](https://open.spotify.com/track/4bgCNtpyjevRbn1dQkodHS)
> 
> _My baby don’t turn around_
> 
> _Leaves hearts scattered on the ground_
> 
> _My baby don’t make a sound_
> 
> _As long as her hard liquor’s never watered down_

“Quintus!” She gasped as he pushed slightly. _Had this honestly not crossed her mind yet?_ Did she not realize this is what he was thinking? From her reaction, it was obvious she had not and he laughed out loud at the innocence of it before he kissed and licked the flesh of her neck greedily, planting kissing along her spine. “I–”

“Do you wish me to stop?” Interrupting her, he asked bluntly as he ground softly into her body from behind, pushing himself against the tender opening as his body asked for permission to enter. “I will stop if you _wish_ it.”

“Uhh … Do _you_ want to stop?” She asked and he wasn’t entirely sure if this was a _test_ or not. Surely, she understood he was not capable of _not_ wanting this from her, with his body pressed so snuggly against her, demanding from him to just push into her, demanding to hear the groan he knew would follow the penetration.

“You _know_ what I want.” He thrust gently, enough to remind her of his readiness. “I am Roman, afterall.” He chuckled at his joke but he pouted when she said nothing in reply and he nudged again as he spoke. “ ** _Tibi sunt mea, Libellula._** ” He grunted eagerly. “ ** _You are mine_** and what I wish …” He groaned hungrily. “… is to know _every single inch of you_.”

Her breath was a rushed pant and her heart jumped as he nibbled her exposed skin tenderly and she turned her face into the sheet beneath her to hide it from him. “ _Please_ …” He begged. “ _Tell me to stop._ ” He didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable but … _good god_. “ _Tell me to stop._ ”

But she said nothing and he doubted suddenly. _Did she really wish it?_ His body was on fire with the anticipation that she might … or he could push himself further down and take what he _knew_ was freely offered to him, but …

“If you will not tell me to stop, then … tell me to continue.” He demanded. “Tell me …”

He wasn’t sure her heart could beat any faster but it did and his own rate matched hers as the blood pumped furiously through his body. Certain she had gone entirely mute, he was about to put himself somewhere he knew he was _welcome_ when she finally uttered a single word lowly. “OK.”

This displeased him greatly. OK was _not_ the permission he was hoping for. It was more of a dismissal of _care_. “ _No_.” He grumbled as his fingers found their way into her hair and he took a careful fist of it, pulling her face from its hiding place so he could stare into her eyes. “Yes or no?” He began to pull his body away from its snug location. “I am more than happy to–”

“Yes.” She said in a breathy whisper. “I …”

He was not sure _what_ she was going to say as the rest of the sentence trailed off with hints of apprehension. “I will be _gentle_.” He assured her growing anxiety before he attempted to _quietly_ expose his stinger far enough to allow him to scoop some of its incredibly viscous saliva onto his fingers. This liquid, normally used to grease the ejection of the appendage, was unmatched in its lubricating qualities.

As stealthy as he normally was, he wasn’t nearly as quiet as he had hoped, for the sound caught her attention and she spun around to watch the end of this embarrassing act. Locking eyes with her, he pushed his shyness away as he ran his hand across the stiff body of the stinger, harvesting more liquid than was necessary and retracting it quickly back into his mouth before reaching down to grease their bodies for the impending act.

“Oh!” She squeaked and her body jumped slightly as he rubbed it against them. “It’s … _really warm_.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” He chortled in agreement as he repositioned himself to enter her and he ran his hands up her back all the way to her restraints, tearing them in half to release her. He wasn’t sure he liked her being restrained and he wished her to be free for this.

After chucking the tape to the floor, he glided his palms over the back of her hands and interlocked their fingers as he grabbed fists of sheets, purring in even more anticipation as her body tensed. “ _Relax, Lula_. I do not wish to hurt you.” There was a deep breath and he hesitated at asking. “Have you had _this_ before?”

“ _Yes_.” She said and he grumbled a low snarl filled with displeasure at the confession. “But I didn’t like it and you’re … ”

“I am _very_ large.” He expected this concern as it was one that was voiced quite often to him, especially regarding _this_ act. He nodded, nudging her as his eagerness got the better of him. “ _Relax_ and _surrender_ yourself to me … _completely_.” Releasing his hold on her right hand, his hand traced down along her body, grabbing a handful of her breast before until it found its way between her legs and his fingers nestled into the delicate flesh of her nerves. “I _promise_ you will enjoy it.”

“ _Ahhhh_.” She gasped and as his fingers began to work their magic, rubbing and kneading that precious spot and her body responded perfectly by grinding back against him. He waited patiently until the tension had left her body entirely, rocking against his tiny gentle circles before he began to push into her gradually. It was half groan, half whimper and there was obvious discomfort as she grabbed a fist of the sheet, burying her face downwards as he worked himself into her tight body. But the pain melted away quickly as they lost themselves to the scandalous act and _each other_. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Quintus _**is**_ Roman.
> 
> Yes, _**that**_ just happened.
> 
> And yes, it was planned since the beginning.


	42. 6.1 - Defiance

[ _ Resonance Theory - Forever Lost _ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6pWBYyWlydW1MovcXtWEQQ)

> _And Lilith?_
> 
> **_She awaits me in oblivion._ **

Dawn took a step back into the reality of Rome as EL released her from the memory and she found herself grasping at the counter to steady her wobbling legs.

“I’m sorry, EL.” She muttered a sincere apology to him for his loss before she spun around to verify that they were indeed back in the flat. She wasn’t sure if it was the jet lag or the _journey_ that EL had just taken her on, but she felt physically exhausted for the first time in _days_.

“Get some rest.” EL could read the fatigue that emanated from her and he nodded, looking down slightly as something _somewhere else_ distracted him for a moment. “I need to take care of something. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Ok.” She easily complied as her eyelids grew heavier.

“It’s not safe to stay here long.” He warned.

“What do you mean?” She was confused by his statement. She was _home_ wasn’t she? He had wanted to come here. “Did you see the guards downstairs? This place is a god damn _fortress_.”

“Hardly. It’s _not_ safe here.” He said sternly. “You might be hidden from his prying eyes, but Michael is far from a fool. We can be traced back here. There’s no doubt he’s watching Dutch and she knows about Ferraro, or …” His voice trailed off as he looked up at her with innocence _and_ guilty.

She knew this look. It was when he didn’t wish to say something outright and she would be required to prod for it so she took the bait. “Or _what_?”

“Or, your _boy_ might out us.” EL shrugged simply.

“No.” She countered. “He wouldn’t–”

“Blind faith in him puts you in danger.” EL shook his head as he spoke. “Don’t forget, he lives in _my brothers’_ kingdom now. It’s foolish to assume he would even have a choice in the matter.”

“Then why did we come here?” She asked in annoyance, never realizing they wouldn’t be staying. “You **_said_** to come here.”

“Yes. _To Rome._ This city is where _The White King_ has always resided.” EL smiled marvelously, looking down at the _Lumen_ still sitting idly on the counter. “And we will need a weapon of power re-forged. Get some rest. I’ll be back.”

And then he was gone and she was left staring at the shiny book, listening to its enticing vibrations before Thomas spoke from the side, causing her to jump significantly as she had completely forgotten about his presence.

“Why did he say we are here?” He asked, still and calm.

“For [Al-Abyad](http://jinn.wikia.com/wiki/Al-Abyad)” The meeting with Barqan jumped across her memory and she wondered how The White King would compare to The Black King. “ _The White King_.”

“Is he still here?” Thomas gulped as he looked around with wide eyes and she smiled at his child-like fear, enjoying the apprehension that the _Fallen Angel_ caused her once-torturer.

“No.” Shaking her head, she felt her fatigue only worsening. “He’ll be back though. I’m gonna get some rest.” As she turned to the spiral stairs, Thomas put his hand up, silently asking for her to wait and she looked at him carefully as he fumbled with his words.

“Please …” He stuttered, looking around in paranoia. “Tread carefully, my dear. You are playing with forces that _neither_ one of us are capable of fully comprehending.”

“Don’t assume to _know_ what I am _capable_ of, Nazi.” She spat fiercely towards him. The roles were quite reversed now and she had not forgotten all of those long hours of pain he had intentionally inflicted upon her. “I’m not a fool. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? Do you _really_ know? This is not just _fire_ you are playing with.” He said, furrowing his brows. “He blinds you with his words, with his promises, shiny things you can’t possibly refuse. But never forget that he is _The Deceiver_. The Fallen One lies.”

“Don’t pretend to _care_ about me.” She laughed. “I know you only care about _yourself_ … and your precious _Master_.”

“That is _exactly_ why I am saying this to you, child.” His eyes became wild with emotion. “He is _dangerous_ in ways that even **_I_** cannot fathom. And you … _you_ are his doorway into this world and the _only_ thing keeping him at bay, _little one_.”

 _Goddamn it._ She **_hated_** it when he called her that and as her nostrils flared, preparing herself to convey that very thought, his hand went up again in surrender.

“ _Fraulein_.” He tried again, attempting to be calmer this time, “There are only a handful of beings in _all creation_ that my _Master_ fears, and **_he_** …” Thomas waved his hand around at the open space around her, where EL _had_ been standing. “Is at the very _top_ of that list.”

“ _Good_.” She said with eager satisfaction. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m hoping for. And, if _and_ when I need your advice, _Lap Dog_ , I’ll _ask_ for it.” She turned her back, approaching the stairs again. “I can handle EL.”

“My dear … There is _no_ handling _The Beast_. That is a feat even _God_ failed at.” As she took the first step, she felt his hand suddenly on her forearm and she turned to face him a mere foot from her, his eyes desperate for understanding. “And if he has convinced you of anything otherwise, _then he has already won_.”

“I don’t get you, Eichhorst … If you are so _fucking_ terrified of him, then why did you even agree to help us?” She smiled, relishing in his discomfort. “Why did you give _us_ the _Lumen_?”

“What other choice did I have? Death?” He asked with wide eyes. “I simply hope to delay the inevitable as long as possible.”

“Inevitable what exactly?” She asked, pulling her arm sharply out of his grasp as the thought of him touching her made her nauseous.

“My soul _already_ belongs to him. The atrocities that I committed _long_ before I met my fate as a strigoi have sealed _that_ fate. _Eventually_ , I know I will be his.” He confessed with solemness.

“Are you _seriously_ looking for _pity_?” She scoffed with a wicked laugh. “From … _me_?”

“No. I simply wish you to understand that your soul is _still_ your own and that he is not your friend, _my dear_. There are _no loyalties_ , there is _no love_. He sees _only revenge_ , at absolutely _any cost_.”

“You’re right.” She nodded. “You’re _absolutely_ right. He’s _not_ my friend.” She smiled. “ _He’s my family._ ”

“Regardless, you _must_ remain vigilant.” His eyes begged her as he sighed heavily. “Do _not_ let him convince you there is _no hope_. There is _always_ hope.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” She could _see_ there was something lingering in the back of his mind, but he was too terrified to utter it. “He has given me _nothing but hope_ , you idiot.”

“You do not understand what it is he needs from you, _little one_.”

“Then explain it to me.” She sneered.

“I have said too much as it is.” He stepped back. “If it is possible, please do not share this conversation with him.”

Dawn stared at Thomas silently for a number of seconds as some hidden meaning was obviously laced in his voice, but its meaning remained lost to her. As much as she might have pressed him further, she was growing more and more tired. Her eyes felt heavier than they had in weeks now and she waved her hand towards him in dismissal as she walked up the stairs to Quintus’ bed, warning him as she went. “I’ll keep it between us, but _you better be here when I wake up._ ”

“I am not foolish enough to run from you again.” He confessed from below. “Besides, it is best for the sake of _everything_ that you are not left _alone_ with him.”

 _Whatever_. Like _he_ would care about _the sake of everything_.

As she stood in front of the large bed, there was a moment of hesitation while she stared at it, wondering when the last time her dhampir had slept in it. Had he come directly from this flat to New York? And when? She tried to picture the last time he rose from it and what he must have been thinking as he did so. Did he have any inkling that it would be the last time he would wake in his home?

She wondered what side he usually slept on or did he just sleep sprawled across the center? She found herself easing back into her comfortable sadness as she pictured him walking around the space, pulling the sheets taut and making everything orderly before he walked downstairs for the final time.

Finally, she urged herself forward and walked towards the bed, stripping off her dirty clothes slowly. She wondered if there was a washing machine somewhere or how Quintus had his laundry done but she smiled, remembering all the brand new clothes in the closet, as she considered the thought that maybe he just threw them away when they were dirty. Would he do that? She … her mind stuttered … she didn’t know.

She had considered staying dressed, in case they needed to leave in a rush, but she wanted to minimize the amount of layers between her skin and his marvelous smell. Dropping the shirt on the floor, she unhooked her bra and let it fall onto the ground as she stepped slowly. She did the same with her pants, letting them fall against the tile as she stepped out of them and up into the bed. As she crawled between the cool white sheets, she pulled the right pillow tightly against her face, breathing it in deeply as she embraced it hungrily within her arms, welcoming his aroma wafting out of it.

 _The right side. It was the right side. He had slept on the_ **_right side_**.

Even though so much more time had passed since he had left than the entirety of the duration that they had spent together, the smell of him cut savagely into her tender memories, igniting them once again and her mind was immediately and completely reminded of _every … single … vivid instant_. Every word, every touch, every smell … every breath. _Everything._

As painful as it all was, she felt a small _touch_ of hope, but maybe that wasn’t it. Sighing into the smell, she _smiled_ , and something deep down within in her felt _nearly happy. Not everything was as terrible as it had been … somehow._

She felt herself begin to drift, still smiling as Quintus’ scent surrounded every inch of her in this place but the _Shiny Man’s_ words continued to drum in the very back of her mind: 

> _“Do you? Do you really know what you are doing?_

Of course she did. He knew _nothing_.  She was the master of _her fate_ , right?  She was the captain of _her soul_ and she was doing what Ellie told her to do. What she was _born_ to do, right?

The last thing she heard before she succumbed to slumber was Ellie’s exact words on that subject and she grinned. 

> _"Rock the boat …  
>  _
> 
> _No, not **just** that …_
> 
> _You tip that mother fucker over …_
> 
> _Those who can swim, will …_
> 
> _And those who can’t …  
>  _
> 
> _… they deserve to **drown**.”_

* * *

 [ _Tom Player - Forever Building_](https://open.spotify.com/track/1b1AVugAbDpANWiQ4KpONj)

Michael sat on the couch, trying to avoid eye contact with the Black King, who sat across from him, bent forward in the recliner while he glared, nostril wide in a massive angry flare. Whatever was occurring in the next room, it was entirely silent and both men waited for what seemed like an eternity before the knob of the door turned slightly, hinting that someone might come out, but when the door remained at rest and Barqan stood to pace again.

Michael had attempted small talk at first, but the Djinn was obviously not in the mood. As the minutes rolled by, the Black King visited the kitchen, returning with a glass filled to the brim with what Michael _knew_ was whiskey. He could smell that repugnant liquid a mile away.

As the Marid slid back down into his chair, he took a long and hard drink before he squinted at his old friend and _finally_ spoke. “If you are wrong …”

“If I am wrong … then all _three_ of our souls will be _damned_ with the consequences of it.” Michael whispered lowly, barely breathing the words to ensure his brother in the next room wouldn’t hear.

 _Three souls_. His, Barqan’s, … and _Gabriel’s_.

“I wish you would trust me.” Michael tried the explanation again. “There’s a _reason_ that _Uriel_ was chosen to replace me.”

“So you have said … **_repeatedly_** now.” Barqan fidgeted with the glass, taking another full mouthful of the strong alcohol. “And yet … I do _not_ see the weakness within your brother that you so vehemently claim is there.”

“It’s not weakness, Barqan.” Michael frowned. “It’s a strength. _A kind which I lack._ ”

Michael sighed heavily in frustration, hunching over in his seat as he closed his eyes and wondered whether the assumption he was making about his brother was accurate. Every being changes with time and though his heart refused to believe it, he was sure, just as _he_ had come to _be a different person_ now than he had been millennia ago, the same might have been true of his hulking and angry little brother.

It was accepted that Gabriel’s pride had _never_ fully recovered from the decision made by _The Creator_ the day Ozryel fell. The choice that it would not be _he_ who would rise to take the empty spot left by the demise of their eldest sibling. That instead, Uriel, of the _Second Brood_ , was chosen to step up into the vacant position of the _Left_.

Since _that_ bitter moment, Gabriel’s attitude had devolved into childish anger and frustration. Unable to get past the feeling that he had not been _good enough_ , he was _always_ looking for a way to prove the decision wrong, _always_ needing to win, _prove_ himself, desperate for _anyone_ and _everyone_ to understand that he was _not_ weak. Stepping forward and asking for this _right_ , to punish the _abomination child_ , was to show everyone _he was capable of the responsibility_ , of this most precious and _evil duty_.

Only Michael fully understood why Uriel was chosen, because _he_ was the one who begged _The Creator_ to spare his little brother of this wicked fate. Gabriel, as powerful and unstoppable as he was, a force of nature to the reckoned with, was simply incapable of being a cruel and merciless _Hand of God_. He simply didn’t have _the_ savagery in his tender heart necessary for it and _The Creator_ agreed, relenting to Michael’s wishes.

In the end, what Gabriel failed to understand was that _this_ was _not_ an insult but very much the opposite. It was a compliment, a _blessing_ even, because part of what made him such a formidable opponent, _so undefeatable,_ was his unyielding capacity for _love_ and _mercy_.

After millennia of poisonous self-hate, Michael feared that Gabriel had changed entirely and he so missed the gentle giant that he once was.

Minutes more passed and Barqan stood with growing frustration, pointing at the door, beyond which they had left Gabriel, the small Djinn half-breed, _and_ the celestial blade. “I cannot take this _anymore_! Do something!”

Michael nodded, standing and approaching the door with the staff in his hand. As he closed the distance, he could hear two _whispering_ voices within and he sighed heavily, knowing the child still lived. He thought about knocking first, but instead turned the handle and walked through.

“What the hell is that? I don’t look like that! You’ve made my nose look like an owl. I think I look more like a hawk.” Gabriel was saying as he showed his profile to the little boy, before turning to face Michael wide-eyed. They were sitting together on the floor, Gabriel cross-legged and the tiny little boy laying across the ground on his belly, scribbling away at the papers strewn about with crayons of various colors all around them. The celestial blade was laying idly against the wall.

“ _Oh_.” Gabriel scrambled to his feet as Michael glared, holding back the relieved smile and laugh that so nearly escaped. “I … _uh_ …”

The older brother shook his head and guilt swam over Gabriel’s face as he began to scratch the back of his head. “I … _uh_ …”

“ _I know_.” Gripping his shoulder with a firm hold, Michael nodded, bringing their heads together as both brothers closed their eyes. “ _I know._ ”

A defeated sigh escaped the massive angel as he shook his head, looking over at the blade that rested against the wall. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“ _I know_. You don’t need to prove anything. You _never_ did. Let this be _my burden_ to bear, brother. _My_ duty. ” Michael repeated. “I’ll do it. _Leave us now_.”

As Gabriel stepped towards Michael, the boy called out to him from the floor, sitting up and thrusting the picture of Gabriel that they had been talking about towards him. “Don’t forget this. I fixed your nose!”

“Thanks kid.” He said lowly and Michael caught a peak of it as his brother accepted the drawing. It definitely looked more like a mutant chicken than his brother, but he could see the resemblance in the long locks of brown hair that shot out of its head like springs.

“Do you want one too?” The boy asked the Governor next.

“ _No_.” Michael shook his head gravely.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as Gabriel stared down at the paper and then to the blade again. There was _spark_ of motivation that Michael felt through the Nexus, as something that had _never_ crossed the angel’s mind before, barrelled through their connection furiously and Michael’s eyes grew wide. Of all the brother’s, Gabriel was _not_ good at hiding any emotions and right now, he was filled with absolute _doubt_.

“Gabriel?” Michael asked simply and surprise covered the big angel’s face as the realization that his older brother could _feel_ his _thoughts_.

“No. _Nothing_. It’s just …” He said, looking down at the paper as he folded it, stuffing it into his pocket before he prepared himself for the journey home. As Michael reached out, placing a hand on his arm, Gabriel again peered down at the blade and Michael suddenly felt full of worry as the consideration of the child’s life swam over his younger brother’s conscience.

He _knew_ the thoughts that were rushing through his mind, because Michael had the _very_ same rush of _doubt_ , the night he had met _his son_.

“It’s the Law.” Michael reminded him and Gabriel nodded emptily, staring blankly at the blade.

So many questions and considerations. Some of them, Michael gleaned from the connection and others, he could read from his younger brother’s sad eyes. If he chose to stop Michael from ending this child’s life, he would not be welcome home any longer. What kind of life could he lead? Where would he go? What would he do? Gabriel had never liked Earth and it’s overly cruel nature. He _hated_ how everything had to _kill_ everything else to survive.

As much as it joyed Michael to feel the doubt rumbling in the giant’s mind, there were far more pressing matters right now that he needed to worry about and the _last thing_ he needed right now was _another_ rogue Hayyoth wandering the Earth. They’d _just barely_ gotten the last one back.

So, Michael manipulated the situation, using the one thing he knew Gabriel would sacrifice _anyone_ and _anything_ for.

“Think of _Raphael_.” He muttered and Gabriel closed his eyes tightly with a nod, allowing Michael to grip both his brother _and_ the staff, thrusting the massive angel back to Heaven.

Once his brother was gone, Michael turned, kneeling to the small child as he patted him on the head, ruffling his hair while he smiled. “You ready to go home now?”

“Quite pleased with yourself, I see.” Barqan said from the doorway, thrusting his glass towards Michael.

“ ** _Relieved_**.” Michael stood, waving for them to speak in the privacy of the next room.

“It was a risk.” Barqan was still unhappy with what had transpired.

“A necessary gamble. Gabriel has been lost for a while. I needed to know _who_ he was.”

“And if he had _killed_ the child?” Barqan asked with disbelief. “This was a _test_? If he had failed it?”

“It would mean he wasn’t the angel I hoped he was.” Michael’s face became devoid of emotion. “And that my brother truly died the night _Ozryel_ fell.”

“And if that had been the case, Governor?” Barqan shook his head with disbelief.

“Then he would have to be dealt with eventually.” Michael said coldly.

“Ha!” The Djinn scoffed at the statement. “You think you can _deal_ with _that_ Angel? You are growing _mad_ in your old age, _Governor_.”

“Never underestimate **_me_** and what I’m willing to do to protect **_my own_** , _Djinn_.” Michael glared at the Black King with disgust as his voice rumbled with menacing thunder, causing the Djinn to step back. “Regardless, _Gabriel is predictable_. He’s _never_ been the one that worries me.”

“You play a dangerous game, _Golden One_.” Barqan stated the obvious and Michael nodded.

“When have you _ever_ known me to play another type?” Michael chuckled before finally shifting the subject to his progeny. “Now … Have _your people_ had _any_ luck in finding her?”

“No.” The Black King took the final bit of the liquid into his mouth as he squished before swallowing. “She is _dark. Obfuscated._ The mages think she has used a _hiding_ glyph, the same we use to hide our children at birth.”

“Hiding glyphs? _Obfuscated?_ What does that _fucking_ mean? How would she know about them? I don’t even know about them?!” Michael sneered the question, cocking his head to the right. “I know _all_ of the glyphs … _I created them_. What are you hiding from me?”

Barqan looked down at the ring that the Governor spun around his finger as they spoke and sighed. “There is much you are unaware, and we would prefer to keep it this way, for obvious reasons.”

“No. How is it that _your kind_ has been able to hide from us? From **_me_**?” Michael demanded but Barqan refused, ignoring his attempt to intimidate him.

“We will keep our secrets from your _mind_ because we do not trust who can take them from it.” Barqan shook his head.

“Fine. Keep your little secrets … **_but find her_**.” Michael commanded. “With her in the wind, none of us are safe.”

“Is it not better that she stays hidden? Have you not considered this a blessing in disguise, Michael?” The Djinn asked hopefully. “If you cannot find her, then neither can _Heaven_. What harm–”

“There is _no telling_ what kind of trouble she can get herself into, Barqan!” Michael grabbed his head with frustration. “I _need_ to know she’s alright and _safe_. _I need to know that she is coping with her loss_.”

“Perhap you should ask _her lover–_ ” Barqan began and Michael snapped back.

“ _Find her, Barqan_.” Michael said simply. “Prove that I spared all of your lives for _some purpose_. I need to get back.”

“What you **_need_** to do is ask _the boy_.” The Black King said again and Michael’s lip came up, ready to make another sharp retort before he calmed himself, taking a deep breath.

“Tell your people to be prepared.” Michael spoke abruptly, ignoring the Black King’s suggestion.

“Prepared? Prepared for _what_ exactly?” Barqan asked suddenly, concern building in his face. “What are you planning, Michael? An uprising? I would not recommend that … it has not worked out well for anyone who has tried … _even Hayyoth_.”

“Planning?” The Governor laughed. “I’m not planning anything, old friend. I’m simply trying to gauge the terrain. _Preparation._ ”

There was an unease that Barqan hadn’t detected earlier and he peered at the golden-haired angel. “What is it then?”

“You don’t feel it, old friend? That vibration singing all around us?” The Hayyoth retrieved and re-sheathed the sword, gripping the staff tightly. “The gears are turning all around us. There is a _storm_ brewing.”

“A storm?” Barqan laughed, finally easing up from the seriousness of what had just _nearly_ occurred. “When have _you_ ever been afraid of a little weather, _Great Thunder_?”

Michael did not return the laugh, only turning and frowning with a stern face that made Barqan shift uncomfortably. “The last time I felt a _storm_ such as this. _The world was flooded_.”

 

* * *

[_Resonance Theory - Speed (Orchestral Only Mix)_](https://open.spotify.com/track/5UdgLtxCK8uK9DWDK013yZ)

Everything ebbed and flowed, shifting from one scene to another, from one _memory_ to the next violently like a roller coaster and she felt almost motion sick from the speed of it all. Bobbing up and down in the river of her mind, she felt the currents forcing her one direction and then another, viciously and relentlessly. She was thrown, _out of control_ , across the banks and estuaries of time itself.

They were just in middle school and she watched Ellie argue the teacher out of putting them both in time out for speaking out of turn. She didn’t even realize she had this memory anymore and she smiled as the sixth grader was obviously smarter than their 40 year old teacher. _Damn she missed her_.

Shifting. Now they were in college. It was her birthday and she’d just pulled the ugliest wrapping paper off of a shoe box sized gift. As she opened it tentatively, worried from the excited look on her best friend’s face. The box was cardboard and had holes punches all over so she had _no idea_ what might be within it, but whatever it was, it was clear it was alive. As she pulled back the lid and peered within; the smallest, cutest tortoise that she had ever seen stared back at her with black eyes.

“ _Oh my god_. It’s a tortoise?! Why the fuck did you get me a _tortoise_?!” She was in half disbelief and half excitement. “Els, I can _barely_ take care of myself! I was trying not to get a pet until I graduated.” She started to laugh.

“ _* _Because_ … it will be important.”_ ** Ellie said with utter seriousness and she looked up into her friend’s deep blue eyes as she _remembered_ : no, that’s _not_ what she had responded with. Ellie had said something else, hadn’t she? What _had_ she said … The scene rewound and played again as a chill ran down her spine.

“I know.” Her friend shrugged, _almost sadly_. “But I saw it, and I _knew_ that you _needed_ to have it.”

“What did you mean just now?” Dawn asked and Ellie looked up confused.

“Mean about what?” Her dead friend queried. 

> **_“It will be important?”_** Dawn asked. “Why? Why would it be important?”
> 
> _Though she asked, she knew this moment was fundamentally important. Without this little creature in her life, she would have never known about the reptile supply factory. Everything would have been … so different …_

The world shifted and blurred as the scene melted away within her dream and was replaced with another as her head raged with increasing pain. It was all too much, too fast, too intense and she gripped her temples, falling to her knees as she felt that familiar hand on her back.

“It’ll be alright.” Ellie arm was around her and she remembered this day looking up and seeing that she was back in _her house_. This was day she’d come home early from that business trip and found her husband with that dark-haired woman. Her cheeks were wet as she’d _just_ been crying. “I’m _so_ sorry. I shouldn’t have convinced you to come back a day early.” 

> _A day early … yeah. That had been Ellie. She surprised her with an early anniversary present. Tickets to a music festival for that weekend to surprise_ **_him_** _with. If she hadn’t come home, she didn’t know how long the affair would have continued. Would she have ever known? Surely not before the outbreak …_

She was in her bedroom now. It was months later and Ellie was there, _forcing_ her to pack for the trip that _they_ had planned to take together. While she had sat on the bed, Ellie pulled the clothing she _knew_ she would want from her closet and threw it into the bag, zipping it shut before sitting down and holding her hand tightly, _reassuring her_. This was the last time she would see Ellie and the realization of that sad fact brought tears to her eyes.

“You have always wanted to go to _Rome_ … You are going and you are going to fucking _love it_. And you are going to enjoy yourself. And … “

She didn’t want to go. She wanted to sit, alone in her empty house and wallow in her own self pity. "You are going to find some super ultra sexy _Italian_ man and get laid.” 

> _The words repeated in her mind, over and over and over again. **You are going to find some super ultra sexy Italian man and get laid.**_

_Oh god_. When Ellie had said it, it was with such _complete and unflinching confidence, as if she **knew**_. _ ****  
_

Something shook loose in her mind and another memory played out … The next one was when Ellie convinced her to change her major. Botany to _Math_.

_No. No, that’s ridiculous._

She shook off the conspiracy that was birthing in the depths of her mind. If one looks hard enough, one can find coincidences in _anything_. Her life could have played out a thousand different ways, and just because _this_ was the path she found herself on, didn’t mean anything right? It was all just an incredible … _coincidence_.

Setrakian’s voice echoed somewhere loudly: 

> “There are no _coincidences_ , only _eventualities_.”

No. _No._ She laughed out loud.

Panic started to bubble in her chest as she felt herself spiralling out of control and her sweet dhampir’s voice reassured her, overtaking the Professor’s as she remembered him teaching her to command her calm that last day. 

> _“I know you fear but … never let that control you.”_

_That voice._ Oh god, _that voice_.

Even just a memory of it, rattling and vibrating with inhuman calmness, made her heart both jump _and_ ache at the same time. He urged her to _control_ herself and she did. As her panic subsided, that word meandered on the tip of her tongue.

 _Control_. But … if all of these memories, these _glimpses_ of her past, were correct, then _there was no control_ … was there? Ellie had been course correcting her path this _entire time._

There was so much more that she could see ahead. So much more that she could be shown to solidify her theory but she shook her head and halted _everything_. She didn’t need to see any more. She understood the _truth_.

Then there was darkness and as a light illuminated behind her, she saw her own shadow, long and stretched before her. And, just as it always did, another shadow encompassed it from behind as his voice spoke again. 

> _“Perhaps we are both equally out of control …”_

**_Quintus_**. It was _Quintus_. Her heart leapt as she spun to embrace him, her face full with largest smile that was possible. Was he here? Had he _finally_ made his way back into her dreams? She was looking for him here for _so very long_ … _waiting._

Her smiled faded quickly as she faced someone very much the opposite of him in many ways. Her skin dark ebony, her eyes as black as night, and her body slender and taller than Dawn. As she smiled, her white teeth shone through with brilliance and she could see just the _hint_ of over-developed canines that were hidden within. Without the hood on, as she had previously seen her this close, she saw the very tips of her ears were elegantly pointed, exactly like _his_.

And perhaps she should have been _scared_ , especially after what she saw this woman do to the _Angel of Death,_ but in a way she was actually relieved. All of these monumental moments that she had just remembered and been made to witness again, had all passed her by and she never realized the significance of any of them. But _right now_ , at this very moment, staring into the woman’s flawless face, she felt that something _important_ was occurring.

“ ** _Lilith_**.” Dawn whispered.

“ ** _Hello Huntress._** ” Lilith smiled warmly. “I have been waiting for you for a _long time_.”


	43. 6.2 - Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

As the tall creature walked by them, it turned, flinging its white hair over its shoulder as it nodded enthusiastically to Sempronius.

**_“.ניאַגאַ טיי … עזירפּ עהט עקאַט האט עפיוו רווי ו שניי, יאַדאָט ללעוו ירעוו טהגואָף ווי”_ **

Laughing heartily, he nodded back, returning an equally amusing retort as the being chuckled loudly before walking away.

**_“! סעמאַג רווי אָטני רעטנע רעה tel ט'נאָד יעהט יקקול צודזש טקופע ווי”_ **

“Hmmm …” Quintus looked over the taller centurion, cocking his head to the right as his eyes grew wide. “You speak this language? You speak _Enochian?_ ”

“ _Apparently so_.” Sempronius said with impressive arrogance, causing Honoria to roll her eyes at his joking attitude.

“You are allowed to know this?” Quintus questioned. He assumed it was something that _Man_ was not to know. In _all_ of his travels through Heaven, he had not come across a single human who knew the speech.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Sempronius looked at him with intrigue. “And no, it is _not_ forbidden. Knowledge is given freely now.”

“Where might I be able to learn this?” The dhampir probed eagerly.

“There aren’t _classes_ , if that is what you are asking.” Honoria chimed from behind. “And it is _not_ a simple thing that humans can just learn. Roni spent _years_ learning it all on his own. _Years_.” She reiterated, hinting at some past annoyance that this caused her.

“Bah. It is not _that difficult_ a language.” Sempronius started to say before correcting himself. “Well, I mean … it is _the most difficult language_ , but it is _not impossible_ to learn it. I don’t know it fully. No _man_ can.”

Honoria raised a brow to Quintus, saying again. “ ** _Years_**.”

“Would it be possible … ” He paused for a moment as he replayed the conversation he overheard from his cell between the two Hayyoth when he first arrived. The _secretive_ conversation between _Ozryel_ and _Michael_. “Can you teach it to me?”

“I suppose.” Sempronius shrugged. “Although, I am not sure why you would want to know it. I learned it simply to read the _most_ ancient of archives.” He turned to regard Quintus, almost hopeful in his expression as his eyes showed that he was considering Quintus in an entirely new light. “ _Are you a scholar, Quintus?_ ”

 ** _“Mister Quinlan_**.” A voice rang from behind them, and he recognized it immediately. Since he had been _here_ , no one has called him by any name other than “Quintus” and he cringed. Turning to face the silver-armour clad _Governor_ , Quintus glared at him with pure disgust. “ ** _May we have a word … in private?_** ”

“Can this wait?” Quintus sighed with tired annoyance. This day had been the first day since he arrived that he actually enjoyed himself in even the slightest way. Today, though he hated to admit it and regardless of how it had unfortunately ended in _Uriel’s_ absolute dominance of him, he actually quite _enjoyed himself_. There were moments when he laughed, especially as he watched _Honoria_ besting men two, even three times, her own size. For the first time, _today_ , he _nearly_ felt happy. _Nearly_. “I was having a conversation with–”

“No. **_This will not wait._** ” The tone was commanding and his head cocked to the right as his eyes began to squint. He really didn’t feel like being dominated _again_ and Honoria read his intentions to _argue_ quite clearly as she placed a gentle hand on his forearm, taking his attention from _Michael_.

“It is fine. You can find us later.” She smiled and he felt his anger abating as he nodded slowly, accepting that it might not be in his best interest to be _difficult_ right now, as much as he wished it.

As they walked away, Sempronius turned with an uncharacteristic grin as he shouted back to Quintus. “If you are serious about learning, find me in the _Halls of Knowledge_.”

And then they were gone, leaving him in the unpleasant company of the _Governor_. As he turned to the Hayyoth that stood beside him quietly, he folded his arms across his chest to convey his annoyance and Michael began to walk, waving for him to follow.

“ _Come with me._ ” When Quintus just stared forward, refusing to immediately follow, Michael turned back to him with a dramatic sigh, all too audible from beneath the helmet.

“And … What happens if I refuse?” The dhampir questioned, continuing his hateful squint. “What would occur, _Governor_? Would you _strike_ me again? Or perhaps just … _cage_ me again?” All amusement from the day had faded away and he was no longer willing to just _accept_ whatever role Michael had intended for him without proper motivation.

“ _Quintus_ , I don’t have time for one of your _hissy fits_ right now.” Michael said his proper name this time and he heard something he had _never_ heard present in the angel’s voice before. _Concern_. “ ** _We_** don’t have time for this. _Please_.”

 

* * *

 

There were no further words spoken as he followed the _Governor_ back to what looked like the same hallway that Raphael took him through when they first met. He wasn’t sure if it was the _same room_ , because he imagined they _all_ looked exactly the same, stretching on endlessly in each direction, but that detail mattered not.

Michael entered a room and waited for Quintus to join him, before the door was shut and the runes burned a bright amber on the walls as their privacy was ensured.

“What is it?” Quintus attempted to control any and _all_ emotion that might escape through his voice, but his worry over what might have affected the _Governor_ in such a way was difficult to mask. The only reason he would have taken him _here_ to speak was if something had occurred concerning … “What has occurred?”

“ _Nothing_.” Michael assured him, unconvincingly. “I just need … some information from you. I was hoping you could help point me in a _new direction_.”

“What type of … “ Quintus furrowed his brow as he bared his teeth in frustration, curling his lips up while he spoke through a snarl. “ _Information_?”

“I’m having a bit of … “ A pause and another uncomfortable sigh. “ _Difficulty_ right now in _locating_ someone and I was hoping you _might_ be able to point me in the right direction.”

“Locating _someone_? _Someone_?” Quintus shook his head once as he tried to peer into the darkness of the helmet’s eyes accusingly. “ _Who, exactly, have you_ **_lost_** , _Michael?_ ” He asked fiercely, but the fact that they were in this room sent worry shooting down Quintus’ spine. _He already knew who had been …_ **_lost_**.

“I haven’t **_lost_** anyone.” Michael laughed gruffly, waving his hand to dismiss the statement but the attempt at false confidence was unsuccessful and Quintus was _not_ convinced. “It’s just _difficult_ to see into Earth right now and I would like to check up on her, _as was per our agreement_.”

“You …” Quintus rolled his head to the right, as he often did when he was increasingly frustrated. Closing his eyes for a moment in at attempt to calm himself, his head swam with fury and terrible possibilities flooded his conscience. “ _Lost … her?”_

“As I have already said, half-breed …” Michael’s own calm demeanor was melting away. “It’s simply _dangerous_ to look for her right now and she is _not_ where she last was. There is _no_ reason to overreact, this is _just_ a precaution.”

However believable _that lie_ must have sounded before it left the Governor’s mouth, Quintus _already knew_ better. _He felt it_. There was something hidden deep within the angel’s tone that belied a far greater concern than he was outwardly admitting. He would have accused him of the lie but he was unable to formulate anything other than the same sentence again as his hand went up to his forehead. “ _You … lost … her?”_

“ _Stop_ **_overreacting_**.” Michael tried, waving his hands again. “She is _not_ lost. I just need to know where I can find her. Perhaps you aren’t the right person to ask then.”

“I agreed to this.” Shaking his head, the dhampir stepped away from the angel, still holding his temple as the frustration mounted. “You … _your Djinn King_ … assured me … that she would be watched. _That if I did this_ … she would be _kept_ **_safe_**.”

“Quintus, I don’t have time for this fit–”

“You assured me, _Governor_.” Turning, he said simply as he released his head and his eyes squinted with dismay.

“That was the deal. Yes. But I can _only_ watch her if I know where she is.” Michael huffed from behind the security of his mask. “If you are … _unwilling_ … to help me with _that_ , then whatever happens will be on _you_.”

“Whatever happens? Do you _honestly_ think me a fool, _Exalted One?_ I am _well aware_ of what _that_ is …” Quintus sneered, pointing to the staff that Michael clenched possessively within his grip. “And what it is _capable_ of …”

“Psh, please, half-breed. You know noth–”

“I know nothing?” Quintus interrupted and for the first time, he felt as if he might have the upper hand, as aggravating as that was, given the circumstance that was unfolding before him. He _knew_ the angel was utterly and completely _full of shit_. “You think I am not _fully versed_ on what your _precious gift_ is capable of, _Governor_? Do you _really_ think that I have spent the last half a year wandering aimlessly without any purpose? That I have not gleaned as _much_ knowledge about _you_ and _your kind_ as possible?”

Michael shifted slightly and Quintus felt the possibility of an upper hand only becoming more apparent. He could _hear_ the angel’s lips part in preparation for a retort against his words, but there would be no retreat from his growing advantage. Anger flowed over him as he considered the possibility that, if _this_ was a bluff, what _else_ had this angel lied to him about.

“ _Raphael_ would feel _any_ use of it, Quintus.” Michael tried but the dhampir shook his head, unaccepting of the excuse.

“If _that_ was true, then how would you _look_ upon her if you knew where she was?” Silence. The angel was considering words and Quintus pounced again. “How did you look upon her in the past?” _Silence_ and Quintus became enraged. “Or did you _ever_?!”

“Of course I did!” Michael spat, thrusting a finger into Quintus’ chest as he poked him firmly and the dhampir took a step away. “I _always_ keep my promises, _half-breed_.”

“When it suits you, it seems.” Quintus said with disappointment.

“Everything that I’ve done **_has_** been for _her_ sake.” Michael reminded him.

“For _her_ sake? _For_ **_her_** _sake?_ Are you quite certain of that?” Quintus repeated, his rage boiling. “Or is it her _father’s sake_?”

“ _For the sake of her entire family._ Regardless, her safety depends on _your compliance_ at this moment.”

“Yes, _this_ is what you have said. Over and over and _over_ again. Yet, with no explanation or truth to follow it. You seek to _continue_ control over me by _threatening_ her.”

“ _I’m not threatening her_ , Quintus. It’s _the exact opposite_ of that.” Michael’s voice was ripe with frustration. “ _We_ made _you_ a deal. _A promise._ The _Master_ ’s destruction for her continued existence, but I _cannot_ uphold my end of that bargain _unless I know where she is_.”

“But how is this possible? How do you _lose_ a soul? Is she …” Quintus held in the word that nearly escaped, his eyes closing as it echoed in his mind. _Oblivion. The Second Death_ …

“She exists still. _Trust me._ ” Michael assured him with a relieved sigh. “ _But_ … there are _ways_ to … obfuscate yourself from Heaven’s eye.”

“ _Obfuscate_?” Quintus tilted his head to the right. “How?”

“Does it matter?” Michael waved his hand. “It has happened, and right now, we need to focus–”

“Yes. It **_does_** matter. Or do you not recall, _Right Hand_?” Quintus scoffed at the angel’s attempt to drive the conversation. “Because I was _told_ there was _no way to hide_ from _Heaven’s_ vengeance. That the _only_ path forward in which she could survive was for me to _leave_ her. Or do you not recall?”

“At the cost of the rest of the world?” Michael asked. “For the _price_ of everyone else? If you hadn’t–”

Quintus raised his hand to silence the _Governor’s_ pending sentence as seriousness replaced his expression. “Never assume that _my sacrifice_ was _ever_ made for the _sake of the world of Man_.” He said firmly, bitterness rich in the delivery of his words. “I would have let that entire, repugnant place burn to ash if it meant that I could have stayed.”

“You would have both been on the run for the rest of your lives.” Michael argued. “You would have damned her to _that fate_?”

“In a heartbeat, _Exalted One._ ” Quintus sneered. “And there is _no doubt_ that she would have _gladly_ chosen that fate, _with me_ , if we had given her the choice.”

“I _know_ , Quintus.” Michael said slowly and gravely. “More than you realize … _I know_.” For the first time, there was _empathy_ in his voice. “I understand _your longing_ more than anyone can.”

“Yet you’ve _kept_ this from me? That we might have been able to _hide_ from–”

“No. I didn’t keep it from you.” The angel’s shoulders relaxed as defeat replaced his frustration as he confessed. “I wasn’t aware of the ability to _obfuscate_ until … _now_.”

“So …” Quintus scoffed. “You are _not_ as powerful as I had assumed.”

“Will you help me or not?” Michael asked, ignoring the dhampir’s comment.

“Has she done _this_ to herself or has _someone else_ done it to her?”

“I don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “That’s exactly what I need to find out.”

Quintus considered _very_ carefully now, staring at his companion in silence for a moment. Many things rattled through his mind and though his _heart_ told him to give full compliance, his _mind_ tugged fiercely to consider what was happening. The angel hid much from him and now was an opportunity for clarity.

Moving to the small table in the center of the room, he sat at one of the two chairs on either side, waving an open palm for Michael to join him. Perhaps, for the first time since they’d met, they _might_ be able to speak as equals instead of the angel holding *all *of the cards. Then let them parlay.

“You wish information from me.” Quintus said. “Then I propose a _give_ and _take_.”

There was discernable apprehension from Michael as he stood his ground, grunting frustration towards the dhampir and refusing the offer. “ _We don’t have time for this._ ”

“ _Very well then_.” Quintus was _so very tired_ of being controlled and so he concentrated, slowing the timing that flowed all around them and grinding it to a painfully slow churn as he smiled up to the _Governor_. “Time is quite malleable here, is it not?”

The _Governor_ growled and begrudgingly taking the seat opposite of him while Quintus cocked his head left and then right, regarding his target carefully as if he were a bird of prey.

“Who is her father?” Quintus asked.

“What the fuck does _that_ matter?”

“Information is power, is it not? I wish to know it.” He stated matter of factly.

“OK. If I tell you this, you’ll help me if you can?” Michael tapped his fingers on the table. “No more delays?”

 _Hmmm._ He very nearly agreed to the offer, but as he stared at the angel, he realized it was _far_ too simple. This information had been hoarded with such ferocity that he doubted it would be given up so easily. _Michael_ was clever and he should tread _very_ carefully. “ _Perhaps._ ”

“ _Adam Theodore Maxwell._ ” Michael said simply, confessing it all too quickly.

That did _not_ seem like the name of a celestial being and Quintus shook his head. “He is just a _human_?”

“As _much_ of a human as she _herself_ is.”

He stared for a moment, his calmness threatening to fade, while his fingers came up to his lips, brushing them carefully as his mind raced with possibilities. “You claimed that she was nephilim. You _claimed_ THAT is why she would be hunted down.”

“She _is_ nephil, Quintus. But that _taint_ occurred further back in her bloodline than just _her father_.”

“Further back?” Quintus asked. “How far?”

“ _Sixteen_ generations.” Michael admitted.

This shocked him somewhat and he stared down, furrowing his brows at the table. “So, she is _actually_ less than one one-hundredth of a _percent angel_?”

“Haha! Not even close.” Michael laughed heavily at the fast calculation, shaking his head. “I really don’t have time to explain genetics right now, _boy_. We–”

“ _Very well_.” Quintus concentrated again and the time slowed even further. He had gotten quite good at this feat and he smiled as Michael’s palm hit the table with annoyance at his show of celestial prowess. “There. **_Now_** … _explain it to me like I’m FIVE years old_.”

“ _You little shit._ ” Michael pointed a finger at him menacingly and Quintus grinned at the show of frustration. “There isn’t _time_ for this–”

“Then by all means …” Quintus leaned back, rocking the chair up on two legs as he grinned mischievously, waving a hand towards the door. “Please leave.”

“You are playing with _her life, right now_.” Michael tried, but Quintus chuckled loudly at the attempt to silence his prodding. “Do you understand that?”

 _Tread carefully, Quintus._ He told himself. He commanded himself and then, he ignored himself fully.

“No, my dear _Governor_ , it is _YOU_ who are playing with _both of hers and mine,_ and given your obvious ineptitude to carry out the agreement we had in place, I now have doubts of your ability to do as you agreed to, at all. Therefore, I am not longer feeling so … _complicit_.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he shook his head with absolute disgust. “I had mistakenly assumed that you could be _trusted_ with her life and that is not an _error_ that I intend to make again.”

“Do not _insult_ me, child.” Michael growled at Quintus’ lack of submission and there was a tense moment of utter silence before the dhampir spoke again.

“ _Like I am FIVE_.”

“Humans were made to _breed_ souls.” Michael started as he leaned back. “To _breed_ and change and _evolve_. Their programming … their DNA, as they’ve decided to call it … mixes and transforms when they breed, creating countless variations and combinations. Varying permutations of long and complex sequences. It is how they were made, but it’s not how _angels_ were made. Our coding is _rigid_ and _immutable_.”

When it seemed like the explanation was finished, Quintus looked at him exasperated. “ _Continue._ ”

“You really want the kindergarten explanation of it?” Michael asked.

“Like I am _FIVE_ , Governor.”

“Fine. A child gets their code from a mixture of their parents. You throw it into a blender and out pops a new person, with dominant traits from _each_ parent, right?”

“I know how _genetics_ work.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked for the explanation of a _FIVE_ year old after all.

“One parent has blue eyes, the other has brown. Chances are the kid’s gonna have brown. Yes?”

“Governor–” He was going to ask for a speed up of the topic, but Michael waved for him to be quiet while he continued.

“And then you throw in chromosomes. Y and X, right? Man and woman, put them together you get a somewhat random mixture. A roll of the dice. Angel and woman, you don’t get something _random_ at all. There is no _real_ mixing. That is, _if the angelic genes are passed along_ at all. It’s usually another 50/50 chance, then it’s like oil and water and everything that is passed on from the father is _dominant_.”

“ _Everything?_ ” Quintus asked in confusion. “So the child is a _clone_ of its father?”

“No. No. It’s still a half-breed. It has characteristics from the mother, passed along the X. But, everything that comes from the Y wins and _never_ mixes. Following me still?” Quintus knew the question was meant condescendingly but he nodded anyways, allowing the lesson to continue. “So, _that_ child goes on to have a _child_ of their own. Oil and water again, 50/50. Everything that is passed on from the father is _dominant … again_. Only the half of the genes from the mother get replaced each time. Celestial DNA is _never_ diluted, because it always wins.”

“So …” Quintus took a deep breath in, mulling it over slowly and carefully before speaking again. “ _Their_ child is still _half an angel_ , but now _half_ of the new mother?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded. “Familial speaking, while _that_ child is the nephil’s son, _genetically speaking_ , he is actually his _brother_. Well, _half-brother_. Different mothers.”

Quintus curled his lips up, not wanting to fully grasp the implications of that thought. He found himself thinking the idea of it was _beyond_ strange, but as the reality settled in, he nodded. “So, she is _nephil_.”

“Yes. There is no _half_. You either are or you are not. She is _nephil_ and so was _her father_. And so was _his father_. And on and on … ”

“ _Father_.” Quintus noted. “You continue to say _son_ and _father_ , yet _she_ –”

“It’s all on the Y chromosome. It always is. Once that special chromosome is lost, then the _taint_ of that bloodline is _cured_.”

“But …” Quintus squinted, tilting his head to the right. “ _She_ does not have a _Y_.”

“Yeah … well …” Michael nodded, thrusting his hand towards Quintus himself as justification for his next sentence. “Genetic mutations have been known to occur, haven’t they? She isn’t the _first_ female _nephil_. There have been others, but the occurrence of it is rare. I don’t know what causes that … _mutation_. But regardless, she’s the last bit of evidence of that … _indiscretion_.”

 _A genetic mutation,_ like Quintus himself and he accepted the information silently, internalizing the strangeness of it all until Michael spoke again.

“Now …” The archangel tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “Do you have any recommendations of where I should start looking–”

“Do not distract the conversation. You did _not_ answer my question.” Quintus said. “Her progenitor. Who is it?”

“No.” Michael said coldly. “Absolutely not. I _know_ your past, _General._ I _know_ the atrocities that you’ve carried out and were left … _undiscovered_ during your trial. _Genocide, slavery, murder, rape, torture._ ” He shook his head with disgust. “I will _not_ allow _his_ fate, or the fate of _his entire family_ , in your untrustworthy hands.”

Quintus smiled meekly. “I have done _many_ terrible things. But I’ve learned that, as a _Hand of God_ , the brunt of my indiscretions barely make a dent in your own **_atrocities_** , _Great Governor._ ” Both men stared in silence for a moment before the dhampir shrugged. “But what difference would it make?” Quintus pried. “Do I _not_ already hold his fate in my hands by knowing of _her_ very existence?”

“I will _not_ betray his trust. _This is final_.”

“Then …” Quintus considered silently as he leaned forward and tapped the desk with his index finger. Would he really be willing to play such a game? Had he been bluffing about helping the angel? “Then I will not betray _her_ trust either.” A powerful feeling, blooming from the depths of his mind, urged him to remain patient. Something, deep within, was telling him _not_ to trust the angel further. If she was actually in _danger_ or not remained to be seen.

“Wait … _what_?” Michael shifted aggressively. “ _Her trust_? What does _that_ fucking mean?!” He groaned, tightening his right fist.

“It is quite clear you dislike me, _Governor_. Whatever your personal feelings against me are, professional relationships should be a _give_ and _take_ , yet all you have done is _take_ and I feel as though I have _given_ quite enough. Until I know that we can _trust_ each other, I am not willing to comply with you any further.”

“ _You little shit._ _This_ isn’t about _you! This is about–_ ”

“No. It is absolutely not about _me_. And given your _mishandling_ of the situation already–”

“Your _ego_ is clouding the gravity of the situation.” Michael slammed his fist down upon on the table as it creaked under his angered strength.

“My _ego_ kept me _alive_ for over two thousand years.” Quintus countered.

“Yeah … you. _But what about your loved ones._ ”

Taking a deep breath, Quintus closed his eyes, holding in the rage that so readily wanted to erupt. He had never been good at holding in intense emotion when his _lost loved ones_ were used as _conversational_ bait. Cracking his neck, he opened his eyes, staring coldly at the Hayyoth across from him.

“This is a mistake.” Michael sneered. “You’re only alive because I’ve permitted it! I’m _your only_ ally here.”

How many times had he heard that statement so far? _Ozryel, Raphael, Ancharia_. He was done with all the mind games and he was _done_ with this conversation.

“ _My ally_?” Quintus laughed out loud. “You blackmailed me to obliterate myself for _some hidden, and likely political, agenda_. Perhaps _you_ are the one being blackmailed?”

“ _And you did it_. You saved her.” Michael brought his hand to his forehead as he sighed deeply. “You saved _them all_ , Quintus. Please, if you know anything–”

“As _you_ have explained it to me, _Governor_. Is it not _Heaven_ itself that is her true enemy … and, therefore, by proxy, _my enemy_. The threat upon her _very_ existence comes from _your brothers,_ does it not? Those with whom you share an _unshakeable_ mental bond. Explain to me how her being _hidden_ from your continued manipulation would be a bad thing?”

“I should have known.” Michael said in utter disgust. “You would just leave her to the wolves then? Did you love her at all or were you really just _having fun?_ ”

Quintus smirked, refusing the bait to antagonize him, as he stood, staring down at the defeated angel. “She is so very far from being sheep, _Governor_. _She is one of those wolves_.” As he walked towards the door, he spoke calmly, grabbing the handle. “In fact, one of the strongest I have ever known, and I choose to have faith in _that_ strength.”

As he walked through the door and down the hallway, there was mild panic building within his chest as his heart began to race. What had he just done? His _bluff_ was entirely successful and though he was proud of himself for it, his eyes grew wide as _real_ concern for her flooded into his soul.

He waited around long enough, remaining submissive and docile for _her sake_. Adhering to the deal he made for _her_ safety. He had faith in the angel’s promise but now _Heaven_ didn’t seem as all-powerful as he had assumed. Now he understood it was not without _flaws_ and, therefore, it had _vulnerabilities_. Weaknesses that could be exploited.

He remembered Ozryel’s warning and he turned the direction he assumed the cells would be. She warned him that _his Poet_ was _not safe_ and he ignored that statement, assuming it was yet another method to control him. But now it was time for answers and who better to ask than the creator of knowledge itself.

There would be no further dilly dallying as he was _more motivated_ for action than he had _ever_ been before, as he had absolutely no plans of leaving her to _any wolves_. **_Hayyoth or otherwise._**

_He needed to get back to Earth at any cost, moreso now than ever before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an incredibly challenging chapter to write. On one hand, I very much enjoyed having the dynamic of power finally shift from Michael to someone else (Quintus in this case), but on the other hand, it was really difficult to get the flow of how that might occur out. I wound up writing and rewriting this dialog quite a few times.
> 
> Though Part 1, A Savage Inconvenience, was Quintus’ story, Dawn still played a significant role and had considerable agency. Because Part 2, An Insatiable Ache, is Dawn’s story, Quintus will also still play a significant role, with much agency as well.
> 
> Since a continuing theme of the story is that Hayyoth work best in pairs, there is a push/pull dynamic in play here that I was hoping to get across in a subtle way. Even across the divide between Heaven and Earth, they are still fundamentally connected through the Veil and because of such, they are still subconsciously affecting each other even if they don’t realize it yet. Pushing and pulling, planning and conspiring, aiding and abetting.
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone is still enjoying the story! I’m sorry that updates have slowed down and I hope to pick back up the speed of writing. Life gets in the way sometimes and affects motivation to write, but I hope you still with me.
> 
> ♥ U ALL!!!


	44. 6.3 - Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't see this coming ... then you weren't paying attention. ;)

 

“I swear to god, _puto_. If you don’t take another look, imma ram my foot so far up your fat ass …” Gus said with increasing aggression as he reached behind him to fish the pistol tucked into his pants, seeking to ratchet up the threat to the next level.

Fet saw the impending act and stepped forward, placing himself between the boxer and the less-than-cooperative bartender, who undoubtedly had access to his _own_ weapon from where he stood behind the bar.

“Hey man. It’s all good. We don’t want no trouble.” Fet put his hands up to the older man, who was staring daggers into his friend’s eyes, waiting for him to make a move. The front door to the dimly-lit bar opened wide and another older man entered, flooding the building with bright afternoon light before the door swung back shut. As the new arrival took a seat not far from where Gus and Fet stood, the bartender left, quickly attending to him. 

“What’ll ya have?” He asked and Gus sighed at the distraction.

“Any Belgians on tap?” The new man asked and the bartender laughed out loud.

“Buddy, we got Bud Light and …” Turning to point at the _only_ tap, he swung back around. “Bud Light.”

“Whiskey. Bourbon. And keep it coming.”

After the new man was satiated with his drink, Fet waved at the bartender again, flashing him his biggest smile, sliding a fifty dollar bill across the counter towards him. “Can you just take a look one more time? Just ta be sure, yeah?”

Sighing, the man picked up the photo again and stared at the people on it. It was a photo they took on his wedding day, the last day they saw her, weeks before and actually one of the only ones they had of her.

Pointing to the tiny woman on the far right of the image, whom Gus had his arm around and was in the middle of planting a kiss on the side of her forehead, Fet smiled. “Dis one.” Overall, it was a bad representation of her, as the dress hadn’t been all that flattering and covered up most of her body’s curves. The makeup was misleading, the lipstick making her lips look plumper than they actually were and the foundation covering up her freckles entirely. Not to mention the hair, piled high in curls atop her head. “You sure?”

The man squinted at the image, shaking his head as he accepted the bill and stuffed it into the pocket of his far-too-tight pants. “Nope. Like I said, before, I don’t know her. Never seen her. Sorry.”

“ _Fucking puto_.” Gus said under his breath again as the man’s apathetic attitude began to rub him the wrong way but Fet slapped him on the back, urging him silently to step back as he flashed the guy his best pair of dimples.

“She’s about _yay_ big …” He put his hand up to his own sternum, showing her approximate, _very_ short, height. “And, ya know … “ His smile widened as he made motions on his own chest as if he was a well endowed woman while he winked. “Big. I mean, damn _busty_ , if ya know what I’m sayin?”

Something triggered in the man’s face and he looked down again, cocking his head to the right as he considered something carefully in his memory. “Hmmm … _short_ and _nice knockers_. Yeah. There was one woman … I guess it could be.” He looked at it, blinking at the image. “ _This an old picture?_ ”

“No–” Gus started, but Fet’s hand flew up to silence him, gripping his shoulder firmly with his giant Ukrainian hand.

“Could be. Yeah, maybe it is. Why? You remember someone?”

“If it’s old, yeah yeah … _maybe_. The woman wasn’t _fat_ like this though.” Gus feeling slighted, glared at the man and Fet sighed. She was _hardly_ fat in the photo, and considering the man that was calling her so was easily over a hundred pounds overweight himself, but Fet didn’t feel like splitting hairs when they might have been onto something. They were asking around for days now. “But, short, busty. _Kinda cute_. I woulda considered fuckin’ her if it wasn’t for the _military hair_ though. I like my women … _more classy_.”

“ _Classy_?” The laugh came from the man with the whiskey as he scoffed at the statement, swinging around and taking a quick look at the dirty establishment. “Yeah right.” 

“Hey, you got a problem with something pal?” The bartender took offense and the man looked like he might have said something else, but Fet retrieved command of the conversation.

“When did you see her?” Fet looked around at the trashy bar and took a deep breath of underlying vomit.

“Couple of days ago, I think. She was in here lookin’ for _someone_.” He began to dry glasses while they spoke.

Gus had fully calmed himself. “You remember who?”

“She was lookin’ for a _vagrant_ that was livin’ around here.”

“Vagrant?” Fet asked, confused by the information as he furrowed his brow. “Like a homeless guy?”

“Yup. Sickly dude who was livin’ out back. I ain’t seen neither of them since.”

“Anything else?” Fet pressed and the man shrugged. “What about the man. Sickly? You mean … _like he was pale_? How pale?”

The bartender nodded. “Yeah. Lots of people been gettin’ sick since the nukes though. When the wind shifted bad, fallout happens.” He shrugged, picking up a new glass and drying it with a towel. “That’s it though. Sorry.”

“K.” The mountain of a man accepted with a nod, tapping the photo on the bar as he smiled. “Thanks though. Appreciate it.”

As the two men began their way to the exit, Fet caught a glimpse of the other man sitting at the bar and suddenly realized he had seen him somewhere _very_ recent. There was something oddly familiar about him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. Before the apocalypse, he might have left well enough alone, but considering what they’d been through and the fact that they were wanted in the States, he turned back to question the fellow.

“Hey …” He asked the man as he was taking the remaining liquid in his glass in one large swallow, setting the glass down on the counter as he tapped the lip to request another fill. “You look familiar. We met before buddy?”

“Ya know …” Turning to face Fet squarely, he smiled widely and shrugged. “Definitely feels like we have, huh? You wouldn’t happen to be stayin’ at the Radisson, would ya?”

“Yeah, actually.” They _were_ in fact staying there and Fet sighed with relief. “Yeah we are.” His paranoia was just getting the better of him. 

“Bet that’s it then. _Small world_ , isn’t it?” The older man turned back to the bar, taking another drink before speaking again. “But … good luck, big guy.” The older man, with gray peppering half of his dirty blonde hair and a conspicuous scar running down his left cheek, said to the Ukrainian with a hopeful smile as he turned back to his newly filled glass. “I hope you find whoever you’re lookin’ for.”

As Gus reached for the handle, the bartender called out to them, throwing his towel over his shoulder. “Oh, there was _one_ more thing … Probably don’t matter though … ”

“Yeah?” Fet’s eyes grew hopeful.

“That vagrant. Really creepy guy, had a thick _German_ accent.”

Whether or not that was _good_ news remained to be seen but at least it was _something_ and they left the bar in utter silence as the reality of _why_ she was there finally sank in.

“Pale and German? What the fuck is she doing, man?” Gus asked, his tone overflowing with concern and Fet shook his head as Dutch walked up to them from the store, shaking her own head. “She came here for the fucking _Waxy man_?”

“I got nada, gents.” She said, stuffing her own copy of the photograph into a pocket, but she could read from their faces that they hadn’t been so _unlucky_. “What is it?” She asked immediately. “What is it??”

“She was here.” Fet confirmed. “She was here … lookin’ for the _German_.”

Gus shook his head. “Nah man … _she_ **_found_** _the German_.”

“Wait … _what_? _German?_ Fucking _Eichhorst_?” Dutch blinked, stumbling over her own words. “Why the _bloody_ hell would she …” Her eyes trailed down to the pavement as the possibilities rolled around in her mind. “What could she _possibly_ want from _him_? And fucking hell … _how is he still alive_?”

“Cockroaches are hard to kill, chica. ‘Specially immortal ones.” Gus said with growing annoyance. “He better not have hurt her, I swear to–”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Fet said, halting the man’s growing panic. “We don’t know anything yet.”

“How the _hell_ did she even find him though? She _has_ to have help.” Dutch questioned, pulling the phone out of her pocket and hitting redial _again_. She had already tried to call this man at least twenty times now and it always went to voicemail. Given the months that he had _hounded_ her, she knew he was actively avoiding her call because he was actually one of the most organized and punctual men she’d _ever_ spoken with.

However, instead of ringing this time, an ominous message automatically clicked on, informing her that the number had been disconnected and she pulled the phone away and stared at it. “That _mother fucker!_ ”

“You trying Ferraro … again?” Fet asked as they walked to the car they’d … _acquired_.

“He’s disconnected his number now.” Dutch snarled as she shoved the phone back into her pocket and dramatically swung the car door far wider than was necessary as she jumped in. “ _That son of a bitch. Mother … fucker …_ ”

As the men piled into the car, Fet sighed and gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. They’d been searching for days. Through the morgue, through downtown, what was left of the police. Dutch was _constantly_ checking the signal tracker but everything had gone quiet. Finally, a scrap of almost useless evidence. It was doing nothing but further the mystery of it all. “What now?” He asked.

“We find that son of a bitch, that’s what we do now.” Gus said from the back, his voice half rage and half defeat. “He’s gotta be here somewhere, yo. We find him and _make_ him tell us what he did to her.”

“No. She’s not _dead_ , Gus.” Dutch shook her head, tapping her phone on the dashboard as her impressive mind raced with possibilities. “No. This bastard _disconnected_ his phone. He’s been told _not_ to communicate with me and it’s obvious she’s getting help from someone.” She bit her lip as she locked eyes with Fet and smiled. “If she was missing, he wouldn’t be acting this way. _He knows where she is._ ”

“So …” Fet said with a smile. “Rome then?”

“Rome.” Dutch agreed.

 

* * *

 

The older, scarred man had left the bar while they were arguing on the street and he walked around the corner, keeping a close ear on the conversation that ensued within the vehicle. As the engine started, he shook his head with disgust.

He _had_ been hoping that _the little shit_ was bluffing and he really knew _nothing_ about where she might be. As much as he disliked him, he didn’t want to think that it was _possible_ for him to put her in danger … but …

 _Rome._

 

* * *

>   [_This Is the Future - Epic North_](https://open.spotify.com/track/6WraSUhJS498g4eABLSe9T)

“ ** _Lilith_**.” Dawn whispered.

“ ** _Huntress._** ” Lilith smiled warmly. “I have been waiting for you for a _long time_.” The woman reached out and gripped her upper right arm in a firm grasp as she nodded in eager satisfaction. “ _A long time_.”

Panning across the area, Dawn surveyed her surroundings immediately. They were outside and the cool night breeze was nipping relentlessly at her exposed skin, causing bumps to rise across her entire body. As her arms went up in an attempt to shield her body, Lilith turned, waving a hand towards the massive fire that burned bright and steadily behind her. “It is warmer by the fire. _Come_. There is much to discuss.”

They were in an open area outside, perhaps a field or a grassy knoll, but it was too dark for her to determine. Though the moon was full and bright, shining down upon them from directly overhead, this was the darkness night she had ever seen. Even the stars, spreading across the entire blanket of of the black sky, were brighter than she had _ever_ seen.

The woman made her way to the campfire, sitting and waving a hand, urging Dawn to sit directly across from her and the shorter woman complied without further hesitation.

“This is just a dream.” Dawn stated the obvious, looking back into her companion’s jet-black eyes. “You’re not real. I watched you die.”

“Did you?” Lilith asked with true intrigue and then lingering disappointment. There was a quiet moment as she considered Dawn’s words, and then she nodded, accepting them. “Hmmm. When I started all of this, that was the risk I was taking.” She picked up a long stick from the ground beside her and she began to poke at the fire, exposing the protected wood to the flames that hungered to consume it.

“Started all of this?” Dawn’s brows furrowed as she watched the woman carefully. “Started this dream? This … is a dream?” She repeated and Lilith smiled.

“Yes. It is.” Nodding. “Well … Yes _and_ no.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and I do not dream like the rest of _the Blind_. _Your_ dreams do not occur in the same place as others.”

“So … This isn’t a dream?” The confusion was ripe in her voice. “But you’re _gone_.”

“This _is_ a dream, but you are _not_ the only one _dreaming_.” Lilith pulled the stick from the fire and pointed to a blanket on the ground, just to the right of the shorter woman. As Dawn looked over, realizing it was a _person_ , she jumped suddenly and Lilith laughed out loud.

“ _Am I_ **_that_** _frightening, Huntress?_ ” She chortled and Dawn looked at the lump again, realizing it was actually _Lilith_ herself, quite alive _and_ asleep.

“No … I …” Embarrassment flushed her over the sudden shock and she smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t see … _you_ … there.” What a strange thing to say, wasn’t it? Turning back, the woman eyed her, waiting patiently. _Uh oh. Was she supposed to say something?_ Oh shit. She was terrible at … _making conversation._ Especially with strangers. That last concern struck her strangely, because she didn’t actually think it true. She _did_ know this woman, didn’t she? They were … _what were they?_ Something itched at the center of her mind, struggling to reach the forefront of her consciousness, just outside of her reach. _What the hell were they to each other?_

“Ask your questions.” Her teeth were brilliantly white as she grinned, exposing her canines fully to Dawn. She found her beautiful. The pointy teeth, the pointed ears, just like her _dhampir._ “We have some time to speak before the _others_ will arrive.”

“Others?” Dawn asked.

“I have been _waiting_ for you all, for a _very–_ ”

Interrupting, Dawn sighed as she grinned. “Yeah, yeah … _for a very long time_ , right?”

Lilith chuckled mildly, waiting again silently.

“But …” Dawn hesitated. “You’re dead. You’re _beyond_ dead. You can’t wait for _anyone_ anymore.” EL had said her soul no longer existed. _Oblivion_.

“Not here, _not now_ … for me, that is.”

“I don’t understand. You’re just a figment of my dream then. My imagination.”

“Maybe I am a figment of _The Creator’s_ imagination, yes. But yours? Hardly.”

“I …” Dawn wasn’t sure how to proceed. “How are _you_ here then?”

“You are still young. The concept of this is _new_. It will come … with _time_.” There was some joke hidden in that sentence and the woman laughed at her own amusement.

“The concept of what?”

“ ** _Time_** , hayyoth prophet. The concept of **_Time_**.” Lilith waved her hands around them, flinging the stick up as if she was conducting an orchestra. “I am _here_ and you are _here_. I am _real_ and you are _real_.”

“You still exist somewhere then.” Dawn stated.

“Oh no. When you wake, I will be _quite dead_ still. I do not exist _somewhere_ , but I still existed _at some point in time_. This place is not here nor there, yet _it_ exists … outside of the flow of time. Think of where we are now as a junction of our rivers. It is a [Confluence](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fconfluence&t=NjNlZDQyOTM1MjYzY2ZiNWI5OGFhZmE1Y2RiODNjMTQ0ZDFjOTJlNiw4OXVVUTBiRA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161784297413%2Fchapter-63-defiance&m=1), if you will. _A Meeting of Waters_. My water. Your water. Their waters.”

Dawn understood and she nodded. “So you’re really _her_ then?”

“Yes. And you …” Lilith pointed the stick towards her blonde companion. “ _Are really you._ ” There was an air of excitement in how they regarded each other. “Good. I am so glad that we understand I am me and you are you.” Lilith chuckled, obviously making fun of Dawn’s confusion and the short woman furrowed her nose at the insult.

“You said _others?_ ”

“Yes. The others.” She nodded enthusiastically. “ _Our sisters._ ”

 _That_ was it … _that_ was the word that she had been unable to grasp fully. _They were sisters_. Maybe not _blood_ sisters, but _spiritual_ at the very least. She’d _never_ had a sister before. No, no. That wasn’t true. If what Lilith was saying was true, then she’s _always_ had a sister and apparently more than one.

“Sisters?” Dawn muttered as Lilith poked the wood in the fire again. “How many are there?”

“ _Four_. But, there are _always_ four, right? Four directions, dimensions, seasons, elements, horsemen, living creatures. _Four brothers and … four sisters_.”

“Four.” Dawn stated. “Who are the others?”

Lilith shook her head. “You already know the answer to that, but it matters not. They will join us soon and our confluence will be complete.”

_Four. Four brothers. Four sisters._

“But …” Dawn poked at the logic. “There are _Five_ brothers, not _Four_.”

Lilith laughed out loud, clearly amused. “Clever one, aren’t you? No. There are _Four_ brothers, no more, no less.”

“What about EL?” She asked as she squinted and, at first, Lilith seemed to be confused by the nickname until a warm smile spread across her flawless cheeks and radiance filled her aurora.

“ _Lucifer_ …” She purred his proper name with sweet delight, elegantly rolling the R at the end of it. “He came _after_ creation. I am referring only to the _Sons of Creation._ ”

“O.K.” Dawn didn’t want to argue, not with _this woman_. Silence erupted again and she hesitated before asking her next question. “Why am I here?”

“Why do you exist? Or why are you here speaking with me now?”

“Either.” Dawn said and Lilith nodded. “Actually, no. _Both_.”

“You exist because I set forth a series of events to ensure it.” Lilith confessed. “It was a self fulfilling prophecy … just as they _always_ are.”

“You … ?” Dawn shook her head. “To create … _me_? _Why?_ ”

“ _A Child of Prophecy_.” The black-eyed woman smiled as she laughed sinisterly. “Would you accept that perhaps I am just bored?”

Dawn raised an eyebrow at her attempt and Lilith laughed again. “But … _why?_ What’s my purpose?” She pushed and Lilith shook her head.

“ _No_. There can be no further _spoilers_. Knowing that would change the course of events and, in turn, ruin what I have put into motion already. This question I will not answer yet.”

“But why did you put _anything_ into motion to begin with?” Dawn asked exasperated as she felt herself spinning further out of control.

“Because …” Lilith sighed. “ _It’s flawed._ It’s _all_ flawed.”

“Flawed?” She remembered EL describing Lilith exactly that way, with that exact word in fact. _Flawed_. “What’s flawed about it all?”

“Many things. It is broken.” Lilith poked the fire with her stick again, before she turned her attention upwards towards the sky. “The machine of the existence in which we reside. Heaven, Earth, _Hell_. The _Order_ of it all is a lie. _A trap_.”

“Life has _always_ been flawed though. It’s what makes us _human,_ isn’t it?” Dawn’s mind was a flurry of thoughts as she dissected the woman’s mysterious message. “I would think that _you,_ of all people, would accept _that_ fact.”

Lilith threw her head back in bellowing laughter. “We are _all flawed_ , yes. But not as badly as the system itself. I _know_ you see it too. I _know_ you feel it. You walk around and you see their eyes. Everything is hollow and pointless, stuffed and meaningless.”

“Feel what?” Dawn pushed. “The world is a fucked up place? Absolutely, but it’s always been that way. You think you can _fix_ it?” 

>  [ _Architects of Life - Ivan Torrent, Celica Soldream_](https://open.spotify.com/track/2LIczIKILsBEpqvP02VSJF)

“It does not need _fixing_. It needs _freeing_. But, I will not do it, _you will_.” Lilith raised an eyebrow as she pointed the stick towards Dawn. “As _you_ have said, I am already gone. _You are the catalyst_ for the destruction that must happen. It’s always been you. You must tear it down. All of it.”

“Tear it all down?” Dawn blinked at the statement. “You want me to help you with the apocalypse? I don’t want that.”

“No, silly woman.” Lilith smiled. “Not the destruction of the _worlds_. The destruction of their restraints. Those old and antiquated laws. The ones that call for _your_ death and _mine_. Man was made to be free … are we not proof of that. Do you wish to spend your entire life as a slave to their rules?”

“If I refuse?” Dawn asked defiantly.

“Refuse? _Refuse what exactly?_ ” Lilith looked at her companion carefully. “What do you think you can refuse?”

“I can always choose _not_ to help you.” Dawn didn’t like being manipulated and Lilith smiled wildly at her naive statement. “I can _choose_ not to be your pawn.”

“My pawn? You think yourself _my pawn_? If anything, I think it might be the other way around.” Lilith chuckled. “But, regardless, there is _no choice_ to make. If you are here, then everything is already quite in motion. Whatever choice you had, you already made it. Full heartedly, in fact.” She giggled.

“No … I can refuse to play any part in this at all.” Dawn countered and Lilith laughed yet again. She hated that the woman was so amused by her attempt at defiance. “I have _the choice_ to _not play_ your game.”

“Oh _huntress_ , you don’t get it do you? Listen _very_ carefully.” Dawn cringed as the hubris of that statement was _just_ like EL speaks to her. “ _You’ve already made the_ **_choice_**. It was your _heart_ that made it. It was your heart that chose _him_.”

A chill ran down her spine as bumps flooded across the spotted flesh of her arms and her face pinched into a tight frown. “You’re talking about Quintus.”

“Yes. The choice _was_ yours. But it was already made and you will now pick him over everything.” Lilith said with envy. “You could have refused him, but …”

“My choice was … _him?_ ” Dawn closed her eyes tightly as she breathed in deeply.

“Yes. And even you know it.” The woman smiled. “You would let the world _burn to ash_ for him, would you not?”

“I …” Dawn knew she would, but she tried to deny the statement.

“You will do _anything_ to have him back … yes?”

“Yes.” She succumbed to the statement with sadness and Lilith nodded.

“In the end, we are _all_ just servants to our hearts. The moment that someone loves as _deeply_ as we have, our control over our future is split between two souls. It is a strength, but it is also a weakness that _Fate_ can exploit and use to control us.” Lilith shrugged. “I will admit though, of all the forks contained within the web of possibilities I have foreseen, _the gladiator_ was the most difficult one to set into action. Billions upon billions of souls and the only one that would cripple the _Child of Prophecy_ beyond all logical reason was born two thousand years too early.”

“Quintus.” Dawn uttered his precious name lowly as she continued to frown. “You’re saying my _love_ for Quintus?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she felt her fists tightening into tense little balls. “You … _fabricated_ it?”

“No!” Lilith hit the stick on the ground, expressing frustration for the _very_ first time. “That is the _exact_ opposite of what I have just said. _Pay attention_ to my meaning, do not let your ridiculous self-doubt cloud my words.” Dawn’s eyes grew wide and she remained quiet, staring at her _sister_ with growing anger. “ _Your love, both of you,_ **_was_** _your choices_. _That_ is the most important truth to know. If I could have made you fall in love with the man _next door_ , then I would not have had to immortalize a son of legends.”

“It was my choice. Not _fate’s_?” Dawn accepted it. “You just said it was predestined to happen.”

“What is _Destiny_? Is it not simply _something_ … _anything_ … that _will_ happen? Or is it something that the gods _will_ to happen?” Lilith started to poke the dirty, drawing circles in it while she spoke. “Regardless, it was _your choice_ and yours alone. Free will is what made this _all_ so very difficult. _Free will_ is what made _all_ of this possible.”

Dawn was starting to grasp what she was saying. On a fundamental level, Lilith had manipulated things to set a path forward, bending outcomes to a specific end. She relaxed her fists, breathing out slowly. “How did you do it? How do you see the possibilities?”

“You will learn. I will teach you.” Lilith closed her eyes tightly, considering what she _should_ say. As her mouth, her own frustration had entirely melted away. “But … I did it _very carefully._ ” She said as she plunged the stick back into the flame and flipped a massive piece of wood over with incredible precision and the fire grew with immediate ferocity. “A millennia of planning. Little things, here and there. Meticulous small corrections. Save a child here, _a suicide there_ , start a war, cause a plague, orphan a boy … **_fell an Archangel_** , or _two_ … “ She paused as she grew weary of her next words. “… or _three_. All edging something towards a singular destination.”

“EL thinks you _fell_ Ozryel for him.” Dawn countered and Lilith look down with shame. “To get him out of Hell.”

“Of course he does. He assumes _everything_ is about him. It is how he has always been.” Any time he was mentioned, Dawn could see the vibrancy even the mere _memory_ of him brought to the striking woman. There was a tense moment of silence as she closed her eyes, recalling something private and the sides of her mouth curled up to a smirk. “But no, the fall of _Ozryel will be_ for the purpose of _your creation_.”

_Will be. For Lilith, that day had not occurred yet._

“For my creation or for Quintus’?” Dawn asked. She wasn’t sure how the fall of _Right Hand_ had played into her own birth.

“Why not _both_?” Lilith chuckled madly. “The Prince of the Serpent must be born, to fulfill _his_ purpose. **_Michael_** is _strong_ , but without his _other_ , he _will_ falter. It is how they were made … “ Lilith looked up, gazing upon Dawn with pure seriousness. “ _How_ **_you_** _were all made, Hayyoth .._. **_Michael_** must feel the _agony_ of that loss, such that he is driven to _seek solace in the arms of another_.” Each mention of her progenitor’s name caused Lilith some discomfort and Dawn picked up on it immediately.

“You care about my grandfather, don’t you?” The question was rich with disappointment.

“He was _always_ kind to me. Unnecessarily so.” Lilith sighed. “Of the _four_ , he was kindest, showing mercy to me when others did not. He allowed me to flee when he was commanded to do _very much the opposite_. In a way, it was _his actions_ that day that set everything into play. His unwillingness to end me is how I saw the possibility of his fall. I am not proud that _he_ is the one I must coerce … ”

Dawn was incapable of feeling pity towards that _creature_ and she snarled at Lilith. “And what about Quintus?” She asked. “Did you set _his suffering_ into motion as well?”

“ _Suffer_? You use that word as if it is a bad thing. To _suffer_ is to live, **_Huntress_**. To know pain is to know that one is alive. _THIS_ is the important fact that _Heaven_ has missed. For how can you understand bliss and pleasure if there is nothing to compare it to? The opposites _must_ exist for their counterparts to be of any importance.” Lilith looked up into the stars for a moment before her eyes fell to Dawn’s face as she smiled warmly. “You are like _him_ in many ways. I can see _that_ now. That fierce loyalty.”

“Like Quintus?” Dawn asked. “How’s that?”

“No. Like your _father_.” Lilith clarified. “Like _Michael_.”

“No.” Shaking her head vigorously, the short woman refused _that_ title. “He’s _not_ my father.”

“Yes. He is. Just as _The Creator_ is _my father_. Michael _is_ yours.” Lilith sighed. “You do not need to accept truth for it to be _true_ , but as long as you refuse it, you make the journey to enlightenment that much harder … if not _impossible_.”

Silence befell the women as they both watched the dancing flames and the wind brushed past them, endowing their skin with meandering frigidness. “I don’t know how you think _I_ can beat the _Sons of Creation_.” Dawn said suddenly, shaking her head at even the thought of it. “From what I saw, they are _Gods_. What _Raphael_ –”

“Yes. They are, but do not doubt what _we_ are.” Delight danced in the delivery of her words.

“What _we_ are?” Dawn asked.

“They may be gods, the _Sons of Creation_ … but _we_ …” Lilith smiled in a way that made _Dawn_ feel welcome and at the same time even more intrigued. “We are the _Daughters of Time,_ **_Huntress_**. We are the _Shapers of Fate_ , destiny is our weapon and we shall wield it with such glorious fury.”

Something about that last title, _Shapers of Fate_ , caused a stir within Dawn’s mind as she considered _her last dream_ and the realization of someone exactly _shaping her fate_.

“So … you want to wage a battle between _Creation_ and _Time_ then?” Dawn questioned defiantly as she returned the grin mischievously. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. Who would be the winner?”

“Winner? In an infinite game, there _are no winners_. But, no. There will not be a war because there is _no reason_ for battle. There is simply _no_ question of who would win. Creation cannot exist _without_ time, but _time was flowing long before this world was formed, little sister_.”

“But … I don’t see how–”

“Creative, curious, defiant.” Lilith interrupted her impending argument. “You are similar to him in so many ways.”

 _Gah._ No. She didn’t want to be like _that creature_ and she ignored the statement, trying her previous argument again. “I don’t see how–”

“I have provided you with the most _powerful_ weapon in _all of creation_.” Lilith interrupted her again and stated simply. “There is no room for failure.”

“Weapon?” Dawn asked. “You mean the _Lumen_? But, I thought the Celestial Blade was _waaaay_ more powerful than–”

“I am not referring to pitiful trinkets. They are mere _echoes_ of their gods.” Another wicked chuckled escaped the dark-skinned woman’s mouth as she shook her head at Dawn’s arrogance. “I am referring to _The Morning Star_.”

“ _Lucifer …_ ” Dawn said his name and the woman grew radiant again.

“Only one has _ever_ stood his ground against all four _Sons_. _Only one_.” Lilith said with billowing pride. “And it was _glorious_. If you could have _seen_ it. He was magnificent, _my bright star_. A show of power that even _The Creator_ itself was proud of.”

“No.” Dawn disagreed. “But, he _lost_. He fought against them and … _he lost_. He was cast down–”

Chuckling, the striking woman shook her head. “You think he is in _Hell_ because he _lost_?” She questioned enthusiastically. “No. He is in _Hell_ because he feared that the Violet Son would rip my location from his mind eventually.” Her smile faded as her face turned serious. “He fled to _Hell_ for sanctuary, not because he lost, but to protect me, **_Huntress_**.” Lilith said carefully, beginning to warn. “But, he is volatile, emotional, … _childish_. You must be … ”

It seemed as if some warning was about to follow, but a noise caught Lilith’s attention as her eyes darted into the darkness behind Dawn and she stood instantly, tossing the stick to the side. “Ah, _finally_. I was thinking you had gotten lost again.”

Following the woman’s actions, Dawn scrambled to her feet, turning to greet the form that she could hear walking across the dirt in the close darkness. At first, it was just an impressively _tall_ outline and there were no features that she could immediately discern.

“ ** _Huntress_** …” Lilith waved a hand at Dawn and then to the approaching figure. “ _Our Sister. The Wheel within in the Wheel_. But you two are already acquainted, aren’t you?”

As the woman’s head breached the fire light, Dawn’s face fell from intrigue to bitter relief as her eyes filled with tears and she closed the distance between them instantly, springing forward and wrapping her arms around _The Wheel_ as she buried her face into her slender chest. The hug was immediately and fiercely returned as the angel prophet held her back tightly.

Dawn _might_ be angry. Fuck. She _knew_ she _should_ be angry. All the controlling, the lies, the manipulation, the deceit … but she’d do that _later_. Right now, there was just this moment of intense relief as she found something she had thought was gone forever. She was just so very fucking relieved. Eventually, she pulled back from the prolonged embrace, staring up into the deep-blue eyes as the woman cupped her face in her long fingers.

“Ells.” Dawn managed through her overly emotional state. “Is it really you this time?” She checked her feet at once, seeing those same, ugly worn **_sandals_** and the tears flowed freely now.

“Yes. It is. And please …” Her once-dead friend smiled, a wave of happiness washing over her own body as she sighed deeply. “It’s [Sandalphon](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSandalphon&t=YmIxMTk5YTU4YzVmZGFkMTgwZjQyN2JjNDAyNjhhNTllMDRkZmNjNCw4OXVVUTBiRA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F161784297413%2Fchapter-63-defiance&m=1).” 

The next instant, Dawn was opening her eyes and she found herself still the in the flat, still wrapped in Quintus’ sheets. Her head buried into his smell.

**_Ah damnit to hell._ **

“It’s about time.” EL said from the railing of the loft-style bedroom, staring out into the afternoon sky. “I thought you were gonna sleep _forever_. We’ve got shit to do.” 


	45. 6.4 - Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you write chapters that you like and your readers don’t. And sometimes you write chapters that you are sure are shit, but your readers LOVE them.
> 
> **This has been one of my favorite to write.**
> 
> This chapter has been in my mind for months. The conversations have lingered and meandered, words here, emotions there. Feels. So many feels. So much is exposed in this and, while you have learned about Lilith and the Confluence, that is not the only _**Defiance**_ in play. Not by a long shot.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Let me pass.” Quintus hissed at Puriel but she stood her ground, looking at him with caution.

“I apologize, Prince of Snakes.” She shook her head nervously, her apology sounded genuinely sincere and she was truly uncomfortable with telling him _no_. It seems that besting this warrior in combat _had_ proven to win him some about of respect. “Our orders are quite clear.”

“And what orders are _those_ , exactly?” He tried to look around her, down the long hallway of cells towards Ozryel, but she moved her body to block his view and he grunted in aggravation.

“The prisoner is allowed _no visitors_.” Dokiel qualified from the side, striking a match against the wall to light a strange little cigarette that drooped lazily from his lips.

“Since when?” Quintus pushed. He’d seen Raphael visiting and he doubted _that_ Angel would defy rules. That would be quite uncharacteristic as he seemed to be very obedient to _Heaven’s_ rules. “I have _seen_ visitors.”

“About a minute ago?” Puriel shrugged sheepishly. “We _just_ arrived.”

 _Damnation_. Quintus stared at the tall female angel, squinting at her fiercely as he clenched his fists in anger and his upper lip twitched gently. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind _this_ was due to the _conversation_ that he had just shared with Michael. _The Hayyoth are fast_.

Puriel shifted nervously as she could easily read the consideration running through his mind. He’d easily bested her. He could easily best _the both of them_ , he was sure, but the _Governor_ would know _immediately_. How long would he really be able to speak with his … his mind stuttered on what to call her and he left the sentence lingering rather than complete it with _any title at all._

Accepting there would be no way to speak with Ozryel _right now_ , he let his hands relax as he stretched his neck to the right side, cracking it carefully. “Very well.”

 _Hmmm._ It was a setback, but Ozryel was not the _only_ source of knowledge in Heaven, was she? In fact, he had just been invited to a place that sounded like it might be very much what he needed right now.

_His father had called it The Halls of Knowledge._

* * *

[ _Expectations - Huntar_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1hFQTPcnreIoOkUSfW1ewX)

>   _On and on and on and on_
> 
> _We make a way, we find a way._
> 
> _On and on and on and on_
> 
> _We break away, we live with expectations, expectations._
> 
> _And oh, will it ever be enough?_
> 
> _And oh, the lust,_
> 
> _You know it gives me such a rush._
> 
> _You’ll be my personal drug_
> 
> _Until I hear the sound,_
> 
> _And heaven’s coming down._

Focusing on Sempronius was easy and he found himself standing before one of the largest entrances into a building that he had _ever_ seen. This was a feat as he had seen a great _many_ impressive doorways in his long life. The doors themselves were silver in color and stood at least four stories tall and the hinges alone were taller than Quintus himself. They stood open and welcomed all within the building’s massive innards.

Stepping within, he found himself in a spoke of a dozen hallways, which all spread out evenly in _every_ direction. This was odd since the building was clearly rectangle from the outside, however the laws of space no longer seem to apply once he was inside and he could honestly say he had _never_ seen so many books, scrolls, and manuscripts in all of his life.

The itch towards his father took him down a hallway on the right side and to another spoke exactly like the first. From there, it was a hallway to the left and _then_ to the right. As he looked around, he found it all remarkably beautiful. Of all the beauties he had seen in _Heaven_ , this place was making a significant impact on him and he could see why Sempronius would chose to spend time here. Being in a place such as this, where _all knowledge_ was available and given freely, he was exhilarated with the possibility of learning the answers to almost any mystery he had _ever_ questioned.

 _Knowledge_ was _power_ was it not? And right now, he needed _power_ more than anything. Even after his thousands of years of training, it had in fact been _knowledge_ which defeated the _Master_ in the end, was it not?

When he eventually found Sempronius, he was coming down from a ladder, with an old and ominous looking book tucked under his muscular arm. He looked somewhat shocked to see him and Quintus picked up on it instinctively, even though Sempronius rarely showed _any_ emotion.

“Ah.” He nodded, stating plainly. “I did not expect to see you so soon.” Quintus grunted lowly with a nod in return. As both men regarded each other silently, Sempronius tucked the massive volume under his other arm and waved a hand towards a hallway behind them. “So … Enochian? Yes?”

“Yes.” Quintus grinned ever so slightly. “Thank you.” No small talk necessary. They were both relieved.

“This way …” Sempronius began to walk and he followed, clasping his hands behind him as he continued to stare around, taking in the glory of the place. “There are study areas where we can begin in the West Wing.”

Quintus’ grin widened slightly more.

“Excellent.”

 

* * *

 

 [ _Which Witch - Florence + The Machine_](https://open.spotify.com/track/5yiBLMSH9DCRmBtws6wKY3)

>   _Who’s a heretic now?_
> 
> _Am I making sense?_
> 
> _How can you make it stick?_
> 
> _Waiting ‘til the beat comes out_
> 
> _Who’s a heretic, child?_
> 
> _Can you make it stick, now?_
> 
> _And I’m on trial_
> 
> _Waiting 'til the beat comes out_

“You’ve disallowed visitations? Why?”

Michael heard the voice of his curious little brother from behind and cringed. He expected this visit, though he hoped it might have taken a bit longer for him to realize. As he turned to face Raphael’s questioning purple eyes, he sighed. “Yes. _For now_.”

“For what purpose exactly?” Raphael was far from amused and he was expressing an uncharacteristic level of annoyance.

“Isn’t that obvious? The show of power during the tournament.” Michael reached for _some_ logical reason to enable his rushed decision. “Did Ozryel really think that it would go … unnoticed?”

“You are referring to the …” Raphael bit his lip as the end of the sentence lingered and he grinned slightly.

“ _Spanking_? Yes.” Michael shook his head. “It wasn’t known that Oz could share that type of connection with the … _boy_. The guards are simply to keep them apart for now. I can allow _you_ visitation if you desire it _that badly_.”

“I would appreciate that. Yes.” Raphael appeared grateful and appeased. “But this brings up another point I wish to discuss aga–”

Michael already knew where he was going, because as of late, this seemed to be the _only_ thing on his mind. “Ozryel will _not_ be reconnected, Raphael. _Especially_ after _this_ revelation.” Michael, of course, already knew they were _both_ connected and he definitely already knew that Quintus was touching the edges of the Nexus already, having drunk his progeny’s blood.

_That little shit._

“I just think–” Raphael tried, using his most calming voice.

“I don’t think I need to remind you of what occurred last time Ozryel was connected?” Michael sighed, hoping to use _Raphael’s_ guilt to silence further pushing, but it was unsuccessful.

“That obviously won’t happen aga–” Raphael waved it off as if the thought of it didn’t bother him, yet Michael _knew_ better.

“You may see Ozryel.” Michael repeated. “Are we done, Raphael?”

The purple-eyed angel hesitated as he considered leaving, taking a few steps before turning back to his brother and speaking with even more calmness. “I can _see_ many things are weighing heavily on your heart, Michael.”

“Brother, please–” Michael’s sigh was dramatic and drawn out, but his little brother cut off the pending argument abruptly and with such conviction that Michael allowed him to speak fully.

“You are _tired_ Michael, and I have _never_ seen **_you_** tired. In all the wars, after all the death, the choices, those lost and those regained, you have _never_ looked as _weary_ as you do now.” Michael stared at him silently, feeling the heaviness that weighed on his soul. Was his _mood_ so outwardly visible? Maybe not to anyone other than his _brothers_ , or rather _this brother_ , but he _knew_ the angel could also _feel_ the worry and fatigue that emanated from every fiber of his being.

No immediate words came to his mind and he stared, unable to form an argument that would be so _obviously_ hollow. “I don’t require your help.”

“Whatever it is that is bothering you. Whatever it is that is affecting you _this_ way, I _know_ I can’t help you. I wasn’t _made_ to help you, but you know who was. You know who you _need_.”

Raphael’s statement caught him off guard and he shook his head once, attempting a rebuttal finally. “Nothing bothers me. I don’t need–”

“You are _both_ stronger together. There is _no shame_ in this. There never has been.” Raphael gripped his brother’s upper arm and gave him that trademark smile while his purple eyes beamed and he blinked at him. “You were never meant to _rule alone_ and to falter is what we were _made to do_ , without our _other_. Honestly, I am surprised you have held it together, _alone_ , for as long as you have. You have _stood_ on your own, so very tall for far too long, _brother_.”

Michael closed his eyes and nodded as he felt a sense of relief with his little brother’s observation running over him and through him. When his eyes reopened, Raphael was nearly to the door and he found himself nodding still.

“When did you become so wise, Little Brother?” Michael questioned, in awe of Raphael.

The purple-eyed angel paused at the door. “Perhaps it is not _I_ who has gotten _wise_. Perhaps it is **_you_** who has finally begun to _hear me_.”

“Bold words. I can be quite deaf quite often.” Michael found himself laughing.

Raphael chuckled in response. “Your hubris … your arrogance … has waned over the past years. You have changed in ways that I have noticed and I have grown proud to call you _Brother_ once again.”

“You think I’ve changed?” Michael bowed his head solemnly, unsure how to proceed with the conversation safely. “How so?”

“You do not see it? I am _certain_ you _feel_ it.” Raphael’s smile faded as utter seriousness replaced his normally calming demeanor.

“Our kind don’t _change, Raphael_.” Michael shook his head at his brother’s accusation. “We weren’t built that way. To change … is to _Fall_.”

Something sparked in the angel’s eyes as his serious demeanor only intensified further as he turned fully to face his older brother and he spoke with a conviction that Michael had _never_ heard before.

“No. To change is _to live_. Everything evolves, brother. _Everything_. _It_ **_must_**. That is life. _That is the rule of it_. It is the only _truth_ that matters.”

Michael blinked at his willful little brother with continued amazement. Such words were almost dangerous to think, let alone _speak_. “Raphael …” Michael said with curious concern.

He continued his words as his brows furrowed deeply. “That is the foundation upon which this entire existence was built, was it not? Without evolution, _without change_ , there is no point to any of **_this grand experiment_**. We, as the _First_ , the ones who came before all others, we _must_ be the ones who embrace this _truth_. We are their shepherds. We never should have been their captors.”

“You …” Michael tilted his head to the right, stuttering slightly. “You think _this_ a prison, brother?”

“Forgive me.” Michael may have said something more, but a look of incredible shock came over Raphael’s face as the words escaped and he bowed his head before leaving quickly, slamming the door behind him.

Michael sighed deeply, unable to entirely comprehend what just happened. As he leaned against his desk, he looked upward to the ceiling and spoke, for the first time since the fall of Ozryel, directly to _his father_. Even thousands of years before its disappearance, he had _refused_ to speak to it.

“Where are you, _god damn it_?” He asked, finally giving into his suffering and doubt as he relented to asking for help. “Father … _what did you leave us to?_ Please …” His head collapsed down, his chin hitting his sternum as his palm flew to his forehead. “ _We_ need you more now than ever.”

He sat in silence as _nothing_ responded to his begging, and only the sound of the wind beat furiously against and whistled through the window. 

 

* * *

 

“No no. It is very much a language of intonation. You cannot simply _speak_ the words.” Sempronius had started with, hours earlier. Quintus had maintained patience with the lesson even when he grew quite frustrated internally. He was good with languages, but the rules being supplied to him made little sense at times.

“I _am_ … **_intonating_** …” He said innocently and Sempronius shook his head.

“You can hear better than I can, Quintus. So _listen_. Hear the frequency of the vibrations. Don’t just repeat the word, repeat the **_sound_** exactly. It’s about the pitch and tone generated as much as the word itself.”

“Hmmm. Very well. Repeat it again, please.” Quintus requested and his father complied eagerly.

“Enochian has a hundred times the number of words as any language you might be familiar with. And each word can actually mean a variety of different things, based on the frequency that it is spoken with … and then … there is the _unspoken_ part of the language.”

“Unspoken?” Quintus’ brows furrowed and Sempronius opened his mouth to explain further when a familiar voice called out to Quintus from the right and he spun from their work table to see the now-young-old man standing a mere foot away.

“Mister Quinlan?” The professor asked with a large and happy grin.

“Abraham.” He could not help but spring from his seat and bow slightly to his friend.

 _Abraham._ Since he saw the man with his wife, he had avoided visiting him for fear of upsetting whatever paradise they were having together.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here.” Abraham laughed gruffly. “I thought you had _more_ than enough of books after having our faces stuffed into the _Lumen_ for months.”

“Indeed.” Quintus agreed immediately. “But, knowledge is not something that one should ever _shy_ from, is it?”

“The _Lumen_?” Sempronius said with curious disbelief from the side, injecting himself into their conversation. “The _Lumen? The Occido Lumen_?”

“Yes. The very same.” Quintus turned back to find his father’s interest _fully_ piqued. “You know of _this book_?”

“Of course.” Sempronius’ blue eyes lit up eagerly. “It is actually one of the _few_ manuscripts that is not available in the _library_. You’ve read it?” His child-like fascination was hard to disguise.

“Most of it.” Abraham said with conviction. “Yes.” 

“I’m _very_ curious to know what you learned from it.” Sempronius turned almost giddy with the request and Abraham squinted at him suspiciously. _Even here_ , the now-young-old man was still the same untrusting man he was on Earth and for a moment, Quintus was glad that he was here. He had missed Abraham.

“And … _what are you doing?_ ” The Professor continued his suspicion of the unknown man, looking over the papers and open books that were strewn across their table haphazardly.

“He is teaching me Enochian.” Quintus explained and Abraham scoffed loudly, eyeing Sempronius again with increasing doubt and suspicion.

“He’s teaching _you_ Enochian? I doubt that very much, Mister Quinlan.” Abe’s tone was weary and full of warning.

Sempronius’ surprisingly jovial nature melted away instantly as he stood, taking immediate offense to Abraham’s implication. “Actually. Yes, I am.”

“Enochian is _not_ a language that _man_ can learn.” Abraham stated, completely sure of himself as he looked over Sempronius completely. “And _you_ look to be _just a man_ to me.”

“That …” Sempronius was beginning to become visibly annoyed and Quintus felt tension rising between the two men. “Is actually a fallacy that has been widely perpetuated throughout _Heaven_. It is difficult, but _not_ impossible. Especially if one’s mind is _capable_.” 

“ ** _Gentlemen_** , please.” Quintus tried to halt the pending argument, but his voice fell on flat ears while they continued their conversation, ignoring him completely as they glared.

“ _Not impossible_?” Abraham balked as he raised an angry, Setrakian eyebrow. “Even if you were able to learn the _extensive_ vocabulary and frequency intonations, twenty percent of it is spoken _telepathically_. There is simply _no way_ that you could know it.”

“Please. Twenty percent is an exaggeration. It is more like ten percent, fifteen at most, but I assure you I have become _quite_ adept at _interpolating_ those missing elements. It is _not_ … impossible. Few things are.”

“ ** _Gentlemen_**.” Quintus tried again. “ ** _Please_**.”

“Mister Quinlan.” Abraham shook his head in annoyance, turning to face the dhampir finally. “Who exactly is _this man_?”

“Abraham.” Quintus said, a tiny smile turning up the very corner of his mouth. “This is my father.”

“Your … father?” Abraham asked with wide eyes. “Oh.”

“Abraham Setrakian …” Quintus turned to Sempronius, waving a hand between as he introduced them to each other. As they reached out to grasp hands in an attempt to be cordial, Quintus smiled further. “ _Sempronius Densus_.”

“Sem …” Abraham gulped, as he shook the offered hand slowly at first, and then more enthusiastically as he looked the man in the eyes. Sempronius continued to glare at the Armenian unamused. “ _Sempronius_ …” The Professor gulped again as his eyes grew wider. “ ** _Densus_**?”

“Indeed.” Quintus said as he watched the horrified look fall across the Professor’s face and he smiled wildly as he had _never_ seen Abraham in as much awe as he was right now. The Professor was still unable to release the grip of his father’s hand, continuing to shake it up and down.

“Your father is … ” He asked once more. “Sempronius … Densus?

Sempronius pulled his hand back. “Apparently so.”

 

* * *

 

[ _Intruder - Moderat_](https://open.spotify.com/track/6dS7rWtP9G7R1o2FSeomQe)  

>   _When I lay at night_
> 
> _They come passing by_
> 
> _One after the other_
> 
> _On the left side of my heart_

“Leave us.” Michael commanded his guards and they walked away immediately, without any question or hesitation. _Good soldiers_. _His soldiers._ His charges. His Grigori always were though, weren’t they? They were built that way.

When they were fully alone, Ozryel pushed her face firmly between the bars and grinned madly. “Oooooo, I get _alone_ time with _The Governor_. What did I do to warrant such a _prize_ , pray tell?” 

Michael stared at his white-haired sibling for a quiet moment, before he backed directly away from her, pressing his spine against one of the bars of the adjacent cell and allowing himself to slide down until he was seated on the ground before her, his feet flat on the floor with his knees bent. Sighing heavily, he leaned his head back against the bar and stared up to the ceiling.

Ozryel could read the defeat even before he slid down onto the cold ground before her. Following his lead, she sat directly in front of him, crossing her legs as she gripped the bars, amusement fleeing her visage as she regarded her _most precious_ brother. “What troubles you, Michael?” No nicknames this time and Michael knew that was when Ozryel was at her _most_ serious.

“Do you remember?” Michael asked, with a slight grin growing on his face as he continued to stare upwards, recollecting something fondly and laughing as he spoke. “Do you remember when _that little shit_ created [Pepsini](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hemipepsis_ustulata)?”

“God yes. That Spider Hawk monstrosity thing? Good god, yes. And he was _so proud_ of his little creature. Demented little _Morning Star_.” Ozryel shook her head as she recalled with amusement as well.

“It was pretty unique, I’ll give him that much.” Michael looked down, grinning widely as he stared at Ozryel while he shook his head in amusement. “What the _fuck_ did he want to call it again?”

Ozryel remembered instantly. “Touch of Divinity.” She chuckled. “More like _Sting_ of _Divinity_.”

“That’s right.” Michael nodded. “Touch of _Divinity_.”

“Because, if it stung you, that is exactly what it felt like you were struck with.” Ozryel giggled. “He was _so mad_ when _Father_ changed it and made it _not lethal_.”

“Yup. I remember _that_ tantrum. That _little shit_ …” Michael laughed. “And then Raphael created his own creature. Lucifer thought he was trying to compete with him, but he was just trying to share with him.”

“I remember that!” Ozryel clapped her hands. “Lucy makes a _bug from hell_ , and then Raph shows up with those god damn _[tardigrades](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tardigrade)_!”

“Humans _finally_ found them.” Michael smiled. “They called them _Water Bears_.”

“Those little bastards were cute … and _basically indestructible_.” Ozryel shook her head as she laughed in remembrance again. “And when _Father_ asked him _why on Earth_ he would make a tiny little indestructible creature … do you remember his response?”

Michael nodded and repeated Raphael’s reasoning from the depths of his memory, word for word. “ … _Because Father_ … You made us in _your image_ so I made _this in mine_ … a tiny, little indestructible creature.”

“Yes.” Ozryel sighed, smiling warmly. “But you know the real reason right?”

“Real reason?” Michael raised a brow.

“The _real_ reason was because of _Gabs_.” Ozryel confessed.

Michael cocked his head to the right. “Gabriel? How’s that?”

“Yup.” She bit her lip, finally being able to reveal the secret to Michael made her incredibly happy. “Gabriel _hated_ Earth. He hated all the death and killing. The constant and unabating need for survival. So, he made something that _couldn’t die_. Something that wouldn’t get killed or need to kill. He made them to allow Gabriel some satisfaction with life on Earth.”

“No shit?” Michael asked with shock and when Ozryel nodded he found himself smiling. That made sense. “That’s … yeah … that makes sense.”

Both siblings sat in silence for a tender moment as various other memories danced across their individual minds, before Ozryel spoke. “Why did you _falter_ , Michael? You were _always_ so resilient. I never thought it would have been you …”

 _Falter? Had he faltered?_ Ozryel was referring to his … _children_.

“No.” Michael corrected her. “ ** _We_** were always resilient.” As Ozryel’s face fell to the ground, her brows furrowed with sadness and Michael asked. “You think I’ve damned us all, don’t you?”

“You or me. One of us _might_ have. Either one of them could be the _Child of the Apocalypse_.”

“It’s not her.” Michael refused.

“How can you be so certain, brother?” She queried.

“She doesn’t have _that potential_ , Ozryel. She’s weak … _harmless._ ” He shrugged.

“Are you serious, Michael?” She scoffed. “She has a fire within her. My shard was _witness_ to _that_ fire. Her _defiance_ shocked even me.”

“Please, if we are talking about _anyone_ who might fit that prophecy–”

“Careful, Governor.” Ozryel smiled. “You yourself decided he was _not_ nephal, did you not?”

“Mmm Hmm.” Michael nodded but shrugged. “But there are so many versions of that _prophecy_ , Oz. And not all of them say _nephilim_ specifically. But, no. It’s not her. She’s just a child. And … eventually, when she comes here …” Michael sighed, staring down at his hands and the ring on his finger shamefully. “She’ll need to become just like her forefathers.”

“ _Hollow_?” Ozryel asked.

“ _Broken_.” Michael qualified. “It’s _not_ her.”

“Are you trying to convince _me_ , brother?” She reached out of the bars, inviting him closer with her beckoning hand. “Or yourself?”

Accepting the invitation, the archangel inched closer as he took her grip and a weight lifted from his chest as she tightened her fingers around his greedy hands. “ _Maybe both, brother_.”

“Why are you here, Michael?” She asked again, _knowing_ that he was not there simply for her or for small talk.

“You know I know, right?” He leaned up against the bars of her cell, placing the side of his head against one of them and Ozryel shrugged, waiting for him to explain further. “I _know_ why it was so important for him to live. Why he’s important to you.”

“I don’t know what you mean–”

“Enough of the attempted deceit. I _know_ you, Oz.” Michael said defeatedly. “I knew from the beginning. I know you are already connected to the Nexus _through_ him.”

“I …” Ozryel looked as if she might argue further, but the seriousness of her brother’s face forced her surrender. “He makes me _whole_ again, Michael. From the moment he was born, I started to become grounded again. And, for that, I will _always_ love him.”

“And yet … his existence is what drove _The Seventh_ mad.” Michael stated and Ozryel looked shocked that he had uttered those words. “I know they unconsciously fed off each others hate and need for revenge for millennia, spiralling down in hatred together–”

“Never speak those words again.” She plead as her brows furrowed, gripping his arm as she stared him straight in his green eyes. “Promise me you will _never_ tell him _that truth_. Promise me.”

“I won’t. But Raphael will find out, you know. I know you’re keeping him hidden, but it’s a dangerous game you play.”

“We are both playing dangerous games, are we not?” She asked and Michael nodded, his lower lip jutting out as he stared blankly at the ground and Ozryel leaned forward, staring at him with a smile. “Why are you here, Michael?” She asked yet again.

“How did _The Seventh_ hide from my sight at the end? Before the bomb?”

She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “ _Hide from you?_ ”

“Ozryel.” Michael sighed, threatening to pull his hand from hers and she pouted significantly, holding onto him tightly.

“ _Obfuscation_.” She confessed quickly.

“Yes. I’ve heard the term already. _But how_?”

“It is a glyph.” She said, not really offering any more and when he tugged on his hand again, her pout increased. “ _The Lumen_.”

“How are there _glyphs_ that I don’t know?” He asked and she grew uncomfortable.

“There are many things you don’t know, Michael.”

“Yes.” He agreed as his voice grew somber and his eyes locked onto hers with incredible scrutiny. “I’m starting to _come to that realization_ now.” As he pulled his hand away from her, she met his gaze and breathed deeply as she could read from his face that the situation was about to become even more _serious_. “Ozryel?”

“Yes?” She asked wearily, picking up the underpinning of his intended question from his mind.

Something was fundamentally different in his demeanor as he had been _cringing_ within to ask her his next question. “Your _German_ … “ He started and she leaned back from him, pulling her knees to her chest as she watched him, guilt washing over every single inch of her.

"Thomas.” She asked with worry, her face contorting with emotion. “Did you _kill_ him?”

“No. I let him live … _for you_.” Michael admitted. “Besides .. _the last thing I wanted_ was to send someone who knew _so very much_ straight into the hands of the _Morning Star_.”

“Thank you.” She was truly grateful.

“But … he said.” His mind trailed back to what he wished to ask, and as he gazed into her red eyes, he started over again. “I am _not_ corrupt, Ozryel.”

“No.” She agreed. “You are not, my brother.”

“You … are _not_ corrupt.” He said next.

“No. Not any longer.” She agreed.

“Yet … we have _children_.”

“Yes.” Her answers were uncharacteristically short.

“Yet, we have broken that most _basic_ and _fundamental_ law.” Knowing what he was to ask of her, she grew silent. “My _Grigori_ … _my Sons of Gods_ … **_MY BROTHERS_** …They were _not_ corrupt, were they?”

Ozryel shook her head slowly, pulling her knees even closer as she wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her body into a tight ball and she brought her mouth down, staring at him with wide, quiet eyes. Michael’s heart sank with profound sadness and his eyes closed while he took a deep breath.

“I _killed_ them all.” He whispered.

“I know.” She said, apologizing. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Father_ had me … You had me …” Michael uttered. “ _Kill them all_.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “It was _necessary_.”

“Necessary?” His eyes _begged_ her for understanding. “Necessary? You gave me the order and you _knew_ … it was a _lie_. They were my _brothers_ … they were **_our brothers_**.”

“ ** _YOU are my brother._** But, yes, such is the burden we bear, is it not?” Shame washed over her entirely and she buried her face into her knees. “It was my choice to keep it from you. I did not wish you to … _Your heart is kinder than mine, Michael_. It always has been.”

Michael was reminded of a similar decision that he had made _for_ Gabriel and his face contorted with sadness while he fought the anger from escaping within. “My heart is not kind, Ozryel. My heart is **_broken_**.”

“How did you … “ She paused. “What did _Thomas_ say exactly?”

“Not much. Just enough to make me question. Just enough to make me _doubt_.” Michael said, tearing his gaze from her as he looked at the ground while the betrayal full sank in. “That **_she_** could be a doorway for **_him_**. That … _The Morning Star …_ ” He breathed deeply. “There is only one way he could know that. _You_.”

“Michael, this isn’t helpful right now.” Ozryel wished nothing more than to change the subject, but as he looked up, his face was quite clear.

“Spill it. All of it.”

“Mike, I don’t think–” She was _almost_ desperate in her plea.

“EXPLAIN IT TO ME, Ozryel. Now …” He stared at her with eyes of flame. “LIKE I’M FUCKING FIVE.”


	46. 6.5 - Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting for this chapter for a long time. Squeeeeeeeeee!!!
> 
>   
>    
> 

 [ _Lyves X Synkro - Body Close_](https://open.spotify.com/track/3jmBXk1jmdyUMQPtN6tG8B)

> _Be my water and be my air_
> 
> _Be the strength I need to care_
> 
> _This love, this love is getting heavy_
> 
> _This love, this love is getting heavier_

As she walked through the long, dark closet, brushing her fingertips gently against the various element of his wardrobe hanging within. She needed clean clothes and she smiled sadly as she removed a dark purple shirt from the hanger, pulling it over her recently showered body and over the dirty bra she had put back on.

While his coat was obviously too long, his hooded under-jacket would still work and she pulled one off of its hanger, laying it lovingly across her arm as she continued her perusal. She preferred loose clothing anyways.

Pants? Way too big, in every dimension.

Vest? No, her breasts were far too big for that and she had no desire to unnecessarily increase her sex appeal by accentuating her cleavage. How cliche that would have been?

She made her way to the drawers in the back and opened each in order, starting from the top.

Underwear? Maybe. She looked at the rows of black boxer briefs which were _very_ tight on him. A sad smile spread across her thin lips as she remembered _just_ how tight. She grabbed a pair and gave them a try and they fit her new, slimmer body loosely but would work and she continued on to the next drawer.

Socks? No, _way_ too big for her _tiny_ feet and she moved on.

Gloves? Pulling one of the black and red leather gloves out, she slid her hand through it and it was far too loose. She looked at it and smiled. She could always cut the tips off. Nodding, she greedily grabbed a pair and moved on.

Belt? No, she had no need for a belt and she closed that drawer, but as she opened the next, her eyes grew wide with wonder as she smiled, brushing her fingertips gently over the metal buckles carefully laid out within.

There were ten spaces total, one of which was empty and she stared at the empty space for a sad moment before she ran her fingers over the others tenderly. Gold, Silver, Steel, Copper. Each a different style, none the same as what she’d seen him wearing last and she grinned.

 _This_ was the only part of his outfit that had _any_ uniqueness to it and she wondered suddenly how he might have picked one out to wear. She was curious if they had any _special_ meaning, as some looked quite a bit older than others and somehow, she _knew_ they did. Each one, a _memory_. Each one, a story nestled safely behind it. She had no idea what they were, but she resolved to **_ask him_** herself.

Yes. _She needed to hope._

She _would_ ask him and she smiled as she started to push the drawer shut again but stopped halfway into the action and she stared down at the contents again, biting her lip while she reconsidered. She didn’t _need_ a belt and they might be too long for her but … she could always make a new hole, right? She opened the drawer wide again and a greedy grin spread across her face.

 _Fuck it. It wasn’t her style, but … it_ **_was_** _his_.

“ _Is_.” She corrected herself audibly. _Hope._ “ ** _Is_** his style.”

Running her fingers across them, she stopped on the obvious choice.  One that seemed simple, yet far more important than the others. It was one of the oldest, but also the least worn.  Incredible care had been shown to this one more than the others and she sighed.  It was a large silver rectangle with a familiar shape etched into its flat surface.  Anisoptera.   _Libellula. **Dragonfly**._

“ _Of course it’s you._ ” She said out loud as she picked it up carefully and held it tightly before revisiting the previous drawer to grab the first black leather belt she saw.

Boots? Nope. Gigantic. Her own boots would have to suffice for now.

Retreating to the bedroom with her arms full of Quintus loot, she dropped it all onto the bed while she pulled on her dirty pants, tucking the shirt fully into them. As she pulled the belt through the loops, she was shocked to see that it actually fit her loosely but adequately on the last ring. Even with being _thinner_ and short, she still wasn’t entirely small framed. Plus, he was quite fit, right? Maybe he wore it on the last hole.

She clipped the buckle on before looking at herself in the full length mirror as she ran her hands over the shirt, remembering when he had given her one just like it to wear in the condo that fateful night.

“Now … for the stuff that matters.” She returned to the closet and opened the cabinet which housed his weapons.

“You decent now?” EL asked from the bedroom before looking in, covering his eyes while he peeked through the slits between his fingers sneakily.

“Sure.”

“Took you long enough.” Impatient, as always, he was nearly salivating with excitement. “Ooooh.” He sprang forth, rubbing his hands together as he could see her looking through the weapon shelves. “Time for the fun part?”

She wasn’t entirely unsure what to grab at first and as she hesitated, EL _reassured_ her, pointing. “Two of the micro uzis. _Two is always better than one, right?_ ”

“But he said it was too much for _humans_ to handle.” She recalled him _saying_ that as well as the force that using only _one_ of them did to her in that stairwell. She killed that man, but the recoil was so substantial that she also nearly fell backwards down the stairs.

“You aren’t _human_ , silly.” He chimed, grinning with child-like enthusiasm. “Trust me. You aren’t gonna have a problem with them now.”

 _Ok then_. She plucked two from the shelf and stared at the full magazines with wide eyes. Maybe this would be a good time to tell EL she was a horrible shot. Quintus said he would teach her, but there hadn’t been time in the end …

“Again, you’ll be fine.” He said, pulling the thought from the front of her mind and _reassuring_ her doubt again. “They’re automatic, you won’t have to be overly precise. Load two of them and grab an extra four mags.”

She looked down at her pants and glared at him. “Where am I going to put them?”

“You’ve got four pockets, don’t you?”

 _Ugh_. She stuffed a full magazine into each, two front and two back. Then she struggled with loading the guns as EL walked her through it.

“Jesus, you’re like a baby. You can’t even–”

“Bite me.” She said as it clicked in and then she stared down at the two guns before looking up at one of the extra holsters laying on the middle shelf. As she tried to put it on, it was clear that it wasn’t going to work, as the leather was tailored specifically for his larger frame.

“Grab it anyways.” EL said. “We’ll make it work.”

 _Great_.

She stared at the sword next, unable to bring herself to pull it from the mount which it was resting nestled within.

“It’s not going to bite you.” EL laughed and she sighed.

“I know.” She confessed as she ran her fingers over the blade and down across the bone shaft of the handle as if it was an extension of _his body_ and she was attempting to entice it, as if she might be able to will him to _feel it_ across their divide. Her touch was overly gentle in nature as her grip encompassed the bone and tightly grasp it finally.

“ _Okay_. That was _awkward_.” EL said but she ignored him and smiled in bitter remembrance.

His other sword was heavy and this one didn’t disappoint in that regard either, but the blade was shorter and that affected its weight, but only slightly. As she picked it up, she recalled all those long training sessions, those early morning hours that they spent with their bodies brushing against each others. Their arms grappling, tackling, and embracing; feigning platonic friendship before they had eventually succumbed to their desires for each other. Normally, her lack of confidence would refuse to let her believe that he might have wanted her _that_ far back, but he had admitted it to her that _final_ day and she smiled, touching the blade again.

“It’s shorter because it’s his _Gladius_.” EL explained, hearing her unspoken question about the shorter length. “This sword is older than the other. _The oldest one he has_. It’s the one he used in Rome. The one he used when he was–”

“ _A Gladiator._ ” Dawn sharply cut into his sentence.

“Grab the scabbard too.” She pulled it down and saw it was exactly like the one Quintus used, but it wasn’t going to work either. It was tailored. “We’ll make it work.”

Gathering all of her things, she found Thomas downstairs. She was mildly surprised to find him shifting a bowl of fresh fruit around on the counter, trying to determine where it would look best. There hadn’t been _any_ human food when she went to sleep and she was surprised that he would have taken the initiative to get _her_ anything.

“You slept through the _entire_ day. Are you feeling well?” He asked before turning around to face her. “You will eventually be hungry, so I have procured some food for when you need it.”

She wasn’t hungry yet though. She felt fine. In fact, she felt … _even better_ than she had before, but she usually did after these long periods of sleep. Though they were getting shorter and shorter, each time she would wake from them, she would feel just a little _more_ changed.

“Still here? Thought you’d have booked it, honestly.” She quipped as she set all the items down on the counter. 

> “You’ve given him purpose again.” EL explained as Thomas looked up from his glass. “He’s _always_ been a servant. It’s the only way he really knows how to function.”

“Where else would I go fraulein?” Thomas asked, unaware of EL’s words to her and she smiled at him with disgust and pity.

As she stared at The Shiny Man, something was different and there was an incessant itch in the back of her mind. As she looked into his eyes, she swore she heard screaming somewhere distant and the intensity of the feel was enough to drive her to look away.

_Fuck. What the fuck is that?_

“Right now?” Dawn smiled. “You’re gonna go ask Mr. FERRARO if he’s got a sewing kit?”

“Sewing kit?” He cocked his head to the right.

“How good are your _seamstress_ skills, _Nazi?_ ”

 

* * *

 

 [ _Permutations - Lo-Fang_](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZBjWzFz2VmY7OFG1IO13g)

> _Another familiar accident changes where I call home_
> 
> _The thing that I needed the most was to simply be alone_
> 
> _Away from the Baltimore winter and trying to maintain_
> 
> _Quiet and calm disposition despite the heart in pain_
> 
> _And as it blooms here_
> 
> _Somewhere else breaks_
> 
> _The world is always half asleep and half awake_
> 
> _And when it aches here_
> 
> _Somewhere else blooms_
> 
> _The light I see reflected off the darkest moon_

The cell phone rang again and Gus stared down at it for a moment before swiping across the screen to ignore the call and then shoving it deep into his front pant pocket. As he stood, he began to pace the small, private terminal; staring out the window as they waited for their leased private jet to be re-fueled.

“ _Anya again_?” Dutch asked from behind, walking into the waiting area with her newly acquired coffee and Gus nodded shamefully, still staring out the window. “She’s worried about you, love. You should answer it. She’s your friend.”

“Yeah. I know.” Gus scratched his cheek, turning and sitting back down nervously, tapping his fingers on the table. “I know. _I just don’t know what_ … ” His sentence trailed off somberly and Dutch smiled, looking down at the torn man as he struggled to deal with the conflicting emotions that raged inside.

“You don’t know _what_ you want, right?” Dutch asked. She knew _that_ look. She’d _been_ in his same position before and she understood the turmoil that wrecked his heart right now. “Or rather … _you don’t know_ **_who_** _you want_?”

“It ain’t like that.” Gus shook his head, looking up into her eyes with sadness. “I made her a promise. I …”

“Yeah, you did and you’re a good guy, Gus. In fact, one of the best I’ve known. Loyal almost to a fault.” Dutch sat, reaching out to place her hand over his nervous tapping fingers and holding his hand tightly in her grip. “And unfortunately, love, _good guys usually get fucked over_.”

“Thanks, chica.” Gus laughed sarcastically. “That really makes me feel better. But I ain’t a _good guy_.”

“ _Yeah_. You _really_ are.” She said as she remembered the similar choice she had to make and she remembered _another_ good guy that didn’t fair well in that choice either. “But, you are _allowed_ to find your _own_ happiness, love. You deserve it.”

“Is it bad that I want them both?” Gus confessed, shaking his head with shame.

“Not at all.” Dutch laughed. “It makes you human. But … you have to consider _why_ and what is _better_ for you in the end? Do you really want someone you have to _chase_?”

“I …” He hesitated. “I ain’t _never_ met anyone like her before.” Gus confessed, looking down at the palms of his hands. “When I first saw _Anya_ , there was a spark. Right in the middle of all that _shit_ , there she was … the most beautiful thing I ever seen in a world _goin’ to hell_. Everyone I cared about was _gone_ and there she was …”

“It’s all over your face.” Dutch nodded with an encouraging smile. “Every time you think about her, you’re entire face lights up, love.”

“She was so … _innocent_. I wanted to take care of her.” He said. “She _needed_ me. It was _simple_.”

“To be needed is a _good thing._ ” Dutch reassured him. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.” 

  


“When I first saw _Dawn_. You know, after she was awake. She had just staked a full grown man with a one of those little plastic garden dudes …”

“ _Yard gnome_.” Dutch corrected as they both chuckled slightly at the memory of it.

“Yeah.” Gus sighed. “I ain’t never seen nothing like _that_. Fuckin’ fearless and … she don’t _need_ me, Dutch. _She don’t need nobody_.”

“She _needs_ us.” Dutch argued. “She’s lost right now and she _needs_ us. She’s lost.”

“She ain’t never been _lost_ , chica. She ain’t _that type_.” Gus argued. “She ain’t like Anya. Whatever she’s doin’, you know it’s with some kinda purpose. She don’t need us to _save_ her.”

“You don’t know that, mate.” Dutch tried, but Gus shook his head. “She’s our friend and regardless if she wants it, we need to _at least_ try and help. Especially if what I saw was …” She gulped. “ _Another Ancient_. Especially if the _book_ is right …”

“The doc said she was part _monster_. He said those papers we found, the tests proved she was one of _them_ , but I didn’t care. I ain’t never seen her _that way_. But if what you say is true, and that _fucking_ book’s right, then she’s not a _monster_. She’s something …” His voice trailed off.

“ ** _Divine_**.” Dutch finished his lingering sentence. “The _very_ bloody definition of it, in fact.”

“I …” Gus furrowed his brows. “I was raised _Catholic_. I grew up with the idea of _God_ and _Heaven_ and _Hell_ and … “ He took a deep breath. “I’d be a fool to pick someone else? She’s _important_. I can feel it. I think I always did.”

“Yeah.” Dutch agreed. All of _this_ had started with those _DNA_ tests, right? The world almost ended, for some reasons beyond their grasp, _because of her_. The _Master_ had done this … _because of her_. “And she’s our friend and we’re gonna help her, if she likes it or not. But that’s not the point, is it?”

“Then what the fuck is the point?” Gus looked up with pleading eyes.

 _“Is she really what you want_ , love? Is she really _who_ you want? Especially if she doesn’t want you back … _not the same way_.” Dutch spoke with so much painful conviction from her own memories.

“I told _him_ …” Something contorted on his face as he fought the boiling emotion within. “I told him I would take care of her. He asked me to.”

“ _That_ is _not_ all on you.” She stated forcefully. “We’re family. It’s on _all_ of us. Besides, you can’t take care of _anyone_ until you take care of yourself first.” Dutch said as she gripped his hand tighter, rocking it back and forth gently. “ _Trust me_. I know what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about.”

“I _told_ him …” Gus said, shame washing over his face as the phone in his pocket started to vibrate yet again.

“Don’t choose someone simply because you feel _obligated_ to them. I’ve made that mistake before. Right now … _fate_ has given you back something you lost. I don’t think you should pass it up.”

“I’m not a fool, chica. I _know_ she don’t love me. Not like she did _him_.” Gus nodded, shrugging. “I know. But, I thought, maybe someday …”

Fet bounded into the area, calling out to them with eagerness. “It’s ready! Let’s vamos! Italy’s waiting, yeah?”

Dutch stood and looked down at the conflicted Mexican. “The _choice_ is ultimately yours, mate. But whatever you decide, don’t tear yourself up over it. You only get one life. Live it for yourself, not someone else.”

He nodded as he stood and they made their way in Fet’s direction to board the little jet. It will be a long flight to …

_Rome._

 

* * *

 

 [ _Into the Wild - Wrabel_](https://open.spotify.com/track/4g2T3FUjXH6XuboKw60hHX)

> _We’re following the siren call_
> 
> _We’re chasing shadows of a feeling_
> 
> _Out in the middle of it all_
> 
> _Find out we’re bigger than our demons_
> 
> _Into the wild_

“She is still too strong, Sandals.” Ellie cringed as Lilith chastised her. She _hated_ that nickname _most of all_ and Lilith knew it. The black-eyed woman shook her head, continuing to pick at her enormous flames with the stick as Ellie sat down on a log to the right of her, almost exactly 90 degrees from Lilith’s location in front of the fire.

“She has _always_ been strong-willed.” Ellie shrugged. “That’s not _my_ fault. Blame _Michael_. If she’s not strong, then none of this will work, will it?”

“I suppose it does not matter.” Lilith shrugged devilishly. “My _Rainbow Child_ will do as he always does.”

“And what is that exactly?” Ellie frowned and scoffed at her statement.

“Corrupt. Twist. Manipulate.” Lilith said calmly. “He will build her hope into a glorious mountain and then he will shake the Earth until it topples. She will be stripped of _all_ choice in the matter.”

“I dislike this.” Ellie said with animosity. “It’s cruel.”

“You had no qualms about it before you _knew_ her.” Lilith accused. “She must be given hope so that she will agonize more when it is stripped away.” Lilith stared at her partner in crime. “This was _always_ the plan. Do you falter now? After _so many years_ , do you wish to change your mind … _now_?”

“It’s cruel.” Ellie filled with shame. “It’s–”

“It is _necessary_ , little wheel.” Lilith said. “The Morning Star _must_ be her _only_ salvation. The _Sons_ must have a reason to reunite.”

“I fucking know that.” Ellie spat.

“Remember why you are doing this.” Lilith reminded her.

“Do NOT talk down to me.” Ellie sneered. “It’s _not_ possible for me to forget _my reason_.”

“ _Pick_. Right now.” Lilith pointed the stick at Ellie’s face as her eyes grew wide and menacing. “ ** _Choose_**. You have a choice right now.”

“Don’t.” Ellie took a deep breath in and sighed heavily. “You _know_ there is no choice.”

“Say it. I want to _hear_ you say it, old friend.” Lilith demanded and Ellie sat in silence. “Choose at this very instant … _Her_ or _The Indigo Child?_ ”

“Enough.” Ellie glared. “And we are _not_ friends. We’ve _never_ been friends, _Corruptor_.”

“Choose, sister.” Lilith demanded, her eyes growing wider with rage. “CHOOSE.”

“ ** _There is no choice_**.” Ellie admitted with conviction. “There’s _never_ a choice. It will _always_ be him.”

“ _Good_.” Lilith nodded, pushing her stick back into the flames. “GOOD. You should feel no shame in _this_.”

Ellie frowned deeply, shaking her head in denial. “Of course there is _shame_. Of course I _should feel shame._ She is _my friend_.”

“No.” Lilith said. “She is **_our sister_**. But there should be no shame because if she was given the same choice, she would not chose _you_ either, Sandals. She would chose _him_.”

“It’s cruel.” Ellie repeated, closing her eyes tightly.

“Again, anytime your mind waivers on shame or remorse, do as I do and remember your _Hayyoth_. Remember why we began this journey in the first place.”

“I have _never_ forgotten.” Ellie said, remembering her bitter vision of the future that brought her into Lilith’s company. “I _will_ never forget.”

“[When blue west and red east struggle, a child of ](http://www.euro-tongil.org/swedish/english/LeeChung-FengChineseFutureProphecies.htm)[God](http://www.euro-tongil.org/swedish/english/LeeChung-FengChineseFutureProphecies.htm)[ appears who brings peace and stops the killing.](http://www.euro-tongil.org/swedish/english/LeeChung-FengChineseFutureProphecies.htm)” Lilith repeated their goal. A prophecy that held a _very different_ outcome before their plan was set into motion.

“You don’t need to remind me.” Ellie surrendered to what must occur. “I saw the same vision, Lilith. I know.”

“Never forget that _you_ came to _me_ , Wheel. You asked for _my_ help and I agreed.” Lilith reminded her viciously. “Because you _saw_ their fates the same as I. You saw their oblivion at the hands of one another.”

“I know.” Ellie whispered.

“The Indigo Child and the Morning Star will destroy each other and _nothing_ in any realm will survive that.” Lilith kept going even though Ellie didn’t wish to hear it again. She’d already _seen_ it so many times in her dreams. “ _Nothing_.”

“ _I KNOW WHY_.” Ellie clenched her jaw as she retrieved a rock from the ground and chucked it at Lilith’s head and the woman dodged it with a savage glare. “It’s just … she will _never_ forgive me. She _trusts_ me …”

“Exactly. She’s supposed to. That’s how _this works_. _Just do your job_.” Lilith sighed with growing aggravation. “When your time comes, make sure it is done and she will forgive you of _everything_.”

“You don’t know that. Neither of us have ever seen past–”

“Just do your job.” Lilith curled her lip up in annoyance. “ _Encourage the knight_ **_out of Heaven_**.” Lilith said.

“Gladiator.” Ellie corrected as Lilith cocked her head to the right, eyeing the blue-eyed angel suspiciously.

“Gladi-what?” Lilith asked with annoyance.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a _knight_ … He was a _gladiator_. It was a Roman thing.”

“What the hell is a _Gladytator_.” Lilith asked for clarification still.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, nevermind.” Ellie put her head into her hands, doubting so much. “How do you know what a _Knight_ is but not a _Gladiator_?”

“I looked ahead and saw him fight, but I thought he was just a naked knight?” She bit into her lip as she seemed to be recalling something amusing and a slight grin spread across her mouth. “He didn’t wear much from what I saw, but … _hmmm_.” The grin widened.

“Oh good lord.” Ellie sighed.

“And I like _England_. I look ahead at it often. But _Rome_ …” She shook her head with disgust. “No thank you. _From the little I saw, Rome is full of savages and perverts._ ”

Ellie shook her head, wondering if making a pact with this woman had been a _good idea_ afterall, but she dismissed that thought, as it was far too late for doubts now. “And what of the _fourth sister_? Are you not capable of _any_ shame at all?”

Lilith looked up, locking eyes with such fierceness that Ellie looked away and back into the fire. “We will _all_ make sacrifices. _We will_ **_all_** _make sacrifices_. Do not think that the princess’ sacrifice will be greater than _my own_? She will still _exist_.” Lilith squinted. “A fact you have kept from me, _wheel_.” Ellie knew Lilith was talking about her own _second_ death. _Oh shit._

“She told you?” Ellie looked down guiltily. “How did … How did she know?”

“My Rainbow Child, of course. But, did you think if I knew … I would change our path?” Lilith asked painfully and Ellie shrugged. “Do you think that if I knew … I would pick _my life_ over _his_?”

“It had crossed my mind. Yes.”

“No.” Lilith stated. “Sacrifices will be made. And I have no shame because no sacrifice shall be bigger than my own.”

 

* * *

 

Thomas looked up and down carefully while he held her arms out. “Is it too tight?” He said through the straight pins that he held between his lips.

“Still kinda loose.” She giggled as he tugged on one of the leather straps underneath her arm, tickling her slightly. “You’re pretty good at this actually.”

“My dear, I was born in a time when we did not _discard_ clothing that no longer fit. I was not a rich man and you learn these skills to keep yourself presentable.” He said as he pinched the leather, pushing another straight pin through it to ensure he would know where to start sewing. “How is that?”

She rotated her body back and forth, rolling her arms up and down before giving a jab and a punch to thin air. It was snug, but it also had enough give to allow her to move freely. “Feels good. I think it’s perfect, actually. Yeah.”

He put a few more pins in place and once it seemed like he was satisfied, he took a step back and regarded her again, up and down before nodding with satisfaction. “Off with it then.” He rolled his fingers for her to remove the harness, pinned tighter for her smaller frame.

Once he had them, he seated himself at one of the stools at the counter and began to furiously stitch them together with the large, hooked leather needle. It was only a few minutes before he handed it back to her. “Try it now.”

As she pulled it on over the hoodie, she felt a sense of exhilaration as it slipped into place. They fit perfectly now. “Good. Now those.” She pointed at the holsters and Thomas cringed slightly.

“I do not recommend them my dear.”

“What?” She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean? I need them. You want me to put the guns in my pockets?”

Thomas looked at her and bit his lower lip inquisitively. “Well, you are _quite_ … _endowed_ , my dear.” He looked down towards her chest, making her feel instantly uncomfortable and she crossed her arms in defense of his gaze. “It will be a bit cumbersome and you would _hinder_ the usage … but …”

He looked her body up and down and her discomfort grew as she furrowed her nose at his investigative eyes. “However …” Grabbing the harnesses, he bent to his knees in front of her, beginning to wrap one of them around her upper thigh. While her first instinct was to knee the bastard in the face, she realized quickly what he was checking and she smiled. “They would work better here, yes?”

She nodded without a word and he began to pin it into place. “I believe we can use a few straps from the belt to hold it into place. Is there more leather?”

 _Fuck yeah there was_.

 

* * *

 

 [ _Change - Banks, The Chainsmokers_](https://open.spotify.com/track/6waHXbq4F6bKSxcvCM0nVw)

> _Baby, don’t go_
> 
> _I didn’t know_
> 
> _I’ll change, I swear_
> 
> _I’ll change, I swear_
> 
> _Baby, don’t go_
> 
> _I’ll make you wait_
> 
> _I promise I’ll be better_
> 
> _All of these things, they will change_
> 
> _Baby, don’t go_
> 
> _I didn’t know_
> 
> _I’ll change, I swear_
> 
> _I’ll change, I swear_
> 
> _Baby, don’t go_
> 
> _I’ll make you wait_
> 
> _I promise I’ll be better_
> 
> _All of these things, they will change_

After putting on the black and red leather gloves that she cut the fingers free from, she smoothed the hoodie out, tugging it down to straighten it before grabbing the hood and pulling it over her head. Then she checked the two guns that were now harnessed within her reach on each upper thigh. She had issues in sheathing the blade, something Thomas had to embarrassingly help her with, but the important thing was that the shorter blade was easier for her to pull out. She would get used to putting it away later, right?

“Well … how do I look?” She asked, turning to EL who had been quietly waiting in the corner and watching. Even from him, there was an air of sweet anticipation. 

> “Like a mini-Quinlan.” He smirked.

“You look like _him_ , my dear.” Thomas said at the same instant, however his voice was full of intimidation.

“Good.” She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her growing fire. “So … Where are we going?” She asked, turning to EL. 

> “Hold up.” He said. “There’s still one more thing. Make him give you his sunglasses.”

“Sunglasses?” It was a question directed at EL, but as she turned back to Thomas, the Nazi’s hand went defensively to his jacket pocket as his brows furrowed.

“My glasses?” He obviously had some _love_ for them, but she turned back to EL, confused. “Absolutely not. I _need_ these.”

“But it’s night. I won’t be able to see, EL.” 

> “Trust me. You’ll be fine.” He assured. “And you’ll need them. We don’t want anyone there seeing _your eyes_ , Aurora.”

_Hmm. Fair enough_.

“Ok then. But not _his_.” She smirked. She’d actually seen a couple of pairs up in the closet which were more her style than Thomas’ glasses were. They were exactly the same as the glasses that Quintus wore, of course. Far more … steampunky. “Then where to?” 

> “Inside the mystical underbelly of Rome, of course.” EL smiled devilishly.

“Ok.” Dawn breathed deeply, struggling with the nervous fire within her belly. “Let’s go get us a **_White King_** , then.” 

  


##  _**Incredible commission by[@needlesslycryptic](https://tmblr.co/m7WPf5-rfdnWn8efhFpbYPQ) ** _


	47. 6.6 - Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been dying to write this chapter since [Part 1: A Savage Inconvenience, Interlude 5 - The Great Escape](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/19999834). Something happened in that chapter, that for ALL intents and purposes made absolutely no sense, and I’ve been chomping at the bit to explain it.
> 
> As always, I do hope you are still enjoying my own little crazy world of the Strain!

“You were leading the forces on the western bank, down the rock hills to the west of the Kniltic Sea. Your _Sons of God_ were holding back the line, while Gabriel brought Seraphim down along the northern road, crushing the last of the _Giant Children_ rebels against the sea. There was no escape.”

“Yes.” Michael agreed, remembering along with Ozryel’s words. “And you took a small faction of Cherubim, leading them through the far side of the city, burning it down as you went and collecting those who attempted to flee from the lost battle.”

“Yes.” She nearly smiled, but her face fell serious, almost grim as she looked down and began to pick at her fingernails with nervous fury. “There was more _absolute death_ that day than _any_ I have ever seen.”

“There was more _second_ death that day than **_anyone_** has ever seen.” Michael confirmed.

“Yes … well …” She sighed, shoving the thought aside as she continued with her verbose tale. “There was an itch. As I drew closer to it, I realized it was familiar. It led me to a house. A simple house of a simple family.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip as she considered her words carefully. “That _feel_ , Michael. You know it. That _itch_ of the two worlds tearing themselves apart as a doorway is being wedged open. It was almost like a popping sizzle as the gears of the universe were just starting to strip.”

“Between which two worlds, Oz?” Michael asked, but somehow he _already_ knew.

“When I pushed the door open and I saw the body on the floor.” She pointed down to the ground as she was recollecting it.

“ _Enough_. Just show me.” Michael shook his head as he offered his hand and she stared at it, almost worried to grab it. “Let me see the truth through _your eyes_ , brother. I don’t trust your silver tongue anymore.”

 

* * *

[ _Deadliest Enemy - Twisted Jukebox_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6snd59Q3IQGMZsphGI1ZNS)

He watched through her eyes, but she spoke to him, narrating as the scene played out. 

> _The Giants were not only dangerous because of their ability to draw upon Divinity. They weren’t as strong as their parents, of course,_ and it _wasn’t their size that made them formidable against us,neither was it their numbers._

Looking through the memory, seeing through her eyes, he watched as his hand pushed the front door open and stepped through. She was right. It was a simple house, of a simple family, deserted from war. When he walked inside, nothing stirred but he could instantly smell the rich scent of fresh _nephal_ blood: a bitter combination of Grigori divinity and human stench.

 

> _It was their freedom, brother. Their ability to shrug off Divine Command and simply do as they wished. All born_ **_after_** _us, were born leashed, tied to the_ **_Nexus_** , _tied to its inevitable control. I did not …_ **_we did not_** _… understand what made that concept so very dangerous until this day._

The aroma emanated from another room and Ozryel slowly made her way back towards it, gripping the _Celestial Blade_ tightly in her hand as her nervousness grew in the pit of her stomach. He could _hear_ it now. No, he could _feel_ it now. Someone was breaching the _divide_ between the worlds and the vibrations in the back of his mind increased. 

> _Do you remember in the beginning? When the Garden was still so very young? When the humans were told and shown Heaven and then encouraged to stay on Earth to breed. Before there was the_ **_rule_** _…_

Down a slender hallway, she made her way even slower to the door at its end. As she reached out to push it open and look within, the incredible smell of fresh blood hit her squarely in the face as the vibrations increased further. She peered within. 

> _I mean, from their point of view, I can understand it. You are promised to live in a paradise when you die. No more pain or need to survive. Nothing that hunts you. No more hunger, thirst, or want. Why would you stay in a place full of so much agony? If you_ **_knew_** _there was something better on the other side, then why would you bother to stay at all? So they began to kill themselves in droves …_

He _had_ been a boy, no more than sixteen years old. His hair was a long and silvery mess, with flecks of metallic copper peppered throughout. He was smaller than the other Giants and Michael’s heart suddenly fell. There were tens of thousands of them, yes, and each one, he could see their parents in them and even now, he knew this _had been_ [Chazaqiel’s](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chazaqiel) son. 

> _Humans are free. The Creator could not_ **_force_** _them to do as he wished. If they would not breed, if all they wished to do was go to Paradise, it would deter that. And so, Hell was born as a punishment for such an action. If you wished to go to Paradise, you must …_ **_play by its rules_**. _There was only_ **_one fundamental rule_** _that cannot be broken …_ **_One thing_** _that is_ **_never_** _allowed …_

Michael knew this, but he allowed his long-winded sibling to tell the story as she wished, simply watching and absorbing everything from her words as well as their surroundings. The _boy_ , smaller than the other Nephilim, laid face down across the ground. The knife was still in his grip and the cuts into his wrists were the source of the blood that pooled all around his skinny, frail young body. 

> _Freedom. It has_ **_always_** _been about Freedom. Freedom to chose, Freedom to love, Freedom to live, and Freedom to_ **_die_**. _Freedom … to_ **_fall_** , _brother._

The house began to rumble as Ozryel stepped forward. The broken body of the boy began to twitch and the blood began to rise all around it, floating into the air in spheres as the _Divide_ crumbled and gravity gave way to the _arrival of the something_ far more powerful than itself. _Something far more ancient._

> _Human Qliphoth, just as Djinn Qliphoth, are too frail. They cannot house a truly divine spirit, especially Hayyoth. The shell utterly disintegrates under the strain of our endless power … but … the Giants. Their shells were strong._

Michael spoke for the first time. “How is this possible though? He’s trapped.” 

> _Souls are linked to their Qliphoth. Regardless of where that soul is, the connection is absolute. Regardless of what state it’s in, it’s always linked to the soul that pulled it into existence. And that connection is bi-directional. Once the Morning Star had this child’s_ **_sinful soul_** , _he simply had to step through the spirit to access the body._

“Why did Father not stop _this_?” 

> _Stop this? By what? Changing the rules? Destroying Hell? These rules are already in place. Once set into motion, the Creator could no more change them than we can. It would have needed to wipe it away and start over. Destroying Hell would have–_

“Freed the _Little One_.” Michael finished as Oz nodded. The body began to float, joining the blood in mid air as it convulsed and the Celestial Blade lifted within her grasp as her eyes grew wide and what was occurring **_finally_** _dawned_ on her. Stepping forward to strike at the shell, she realized it was already too late and the eyes opened, showing the rainbow irises staring back at her.

“You’re too late, Big Brother.” The boy’s vocal cords chimed with a familiar playfulness as a devilish smile spread across his thin blue lips. “As ever, you are too la–”

“ ** _We_** _will never be too late, brother_.” The voice spoke so very calmly from behind her and Oz felt herself smile with pride. He had been watching through her this entire time and as he stepped forward, bring them shoulder to shoulder, his staff firmly in his grip, she raised a significant eyebrow as the purple-eyed angel spoke again. “ ** _We_** _will_ **_always_** _stand as one, either_ **_with_** _or_ **_against_** _you. That decision has and always will be_ **_yours_** _to make, Lucifer._ ”

“ _As one?_ ” Lucifer laughed as gravity shifted back into place when his connection to the body began to solidify and his feet touched the floor as the floating blood splattered back to the ground and red divinity started to crawl over every inch of the boy’s pale skin, burning the clothing that covered the body into nothing but ash. “The four of you didn’t stand a chance before, what do you think _two_ of you can possibly do?”

“And yet …” Raphael said calmly. “You still _ran_. You cannot hide your fear from me. You _never_ could.”

[ _Angels Will Rise - Twisted Jukebox_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7n1VzfDRUPGr4lYAEISR9o)

Oz heard Raphael’s words clearly from within her mind as he pushed a sentence to her across the Nexus. 

> _“I am sorry for everything that I have kept from you, Ozryel.”_

Releasing his grip on the staff, Raphael tensed and the vibrations increased to a deafening level all around them as dark blue, almost purple, divinity crawled over every inch of his flawless skin, burning his clothes to ash just as Lucifer’s had.

“Raph–” She reached out to stop her most precious brother from stepping forward to face the Morning Star weaponless, but it was far too late as she was thrust back against the wall the moment the staff connected with the floor.

 _This moment._ This very delicate and important moment. Michael shuddered. **_Until this very moment_** , she had never _really_ understood the _true purpose_ of his staff. From the instant that he released it, she could see the energy spark around him and she realized, while their gifts made _them_ stronger, focusing their divinity into weapon of power, his _gift_ had been doing the exact opposite. The staff didn’t focus his power, it siphoned it. It was a _[resistor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resistor). _ Her mouth fell agape at the revelation and the air hummed with even more furious electricity. There had been something she had _not_ known? What this even possible?

He had already closed the distance between them, connecting with his little brother, and the ripple of their impact crumbled the walls of the house around them, exposing them to the outside.

Ozryel dug her heels into the ground as she held her stance against the blast. When her eyes opened and the dust blown away, the two naked charged archangels were locked into a grapple as if they were wrestling, neither one able to move the other, but each sparking and sizzling as their divinity crackled in battle and she felt all the hair on her body perk up with the static charge. 

> _“Close your mouth and help me, brother! ACT!”_ Raphael instructed with desperation she had never heard from him before through their connection. _“Destroy the vessel before he has an unbreakable foothold within it!”_

Lucifer was screaming something, but all she could hear was the sound of the hum and Raphael’s lightning darkened again in color as he clenched his jaw to compensate from the pain of their fires burning together.

Pushing through the wind, she closed the distance between them and she could finally hear the words fully. “ _You fucking coward! YOU ALL ARE COWARDS! YOU JUST BOW TO HIS WILL!!!_ ” Lucifer was sneering with fury as he eyed her coming around his side, unable to pull himself from Raphael’s divine grip. _“I WILL find a way back!!!”_

Raising the blade to strike, she paused as Raphael pled. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” He wavered as his voice cracked with sadness. The emotion caused Ozryel to hesitate further as she began to _hope_ that he might accept the offer. “ _You can stay and you can come home, little one._ ”

“To be a _servant?_ ” Lucifer balked. “I will show you how _little_ I am, you purple-eyed son of a bit–!”

“ _You are missed so_ **_very_** _much._ ” The moment Raphael’s back knee buckled from the strain, Ozryel swung hard and the blade cut through the body’s head, splitting it down the center to the bottom of the neck. Lucifer gurgled unintelligible words through its crippled mouth as she pulled the blade back out and cut again and again, sending the head flying to the floor as Raphael collapsed forward onto his knees, panting into his hands as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks.

“The body …” He looked up at her, the lightning still running across his skin and through his eyes furiously. “It must be destroyed. _Fully_. Into the Eternal Fire.”

##  _No. Not just that body. All of them._

The voice rumbled in both of their minds.

“Father?” Raphael asked. “All of who?”

##  **_All of them._ **

“Creator?” Ozryel shook her head is disbelief, her voice cracking with agony. “All the _children_?”

##  _No._ **_ALL OF THEM._** _Examples must be made._

“But, our brothers–” Raphael spoke from his knees still, his body trembling in agony.

##  _There must be no mercy, my sons. The punishment must be absolute. This can never happen again._

“But Father …” Raphael begged, his voice cracking with tenderness as his hands still shook. “ _Please … don’t …_ ”

 

* * *

 

“Would you mind if I joined you? If you can indeed read Enochian, I was having a bit of trouble translating something that I’m sure would be simple for you, Mr. Densus.” The Professor asked nervously and then shuffled off to retrieve an impressive number of books, delicately stacked in a tower within his arms, before quietly sitting at the far end of the table while they continued their lesson.

Quintus was sure it hadn’t even been an hour before he noticed Setrakian staring, but he said nothing, opting to kept his face buried in his own task. He worked clumsily on the pronunciation of the symbol that Sempronius had _just_ recited to him, yet again. Sempronius had done so without even looking up from his own reading and Quintus was _certain_ he had never felt like such a child.

At some point, Sempronius spoke to Abraham, never bringing his eyes up from the text in his hands. “You might take a picture instead. It will last longer.” Sempronius quipped.

Quintus shifted a bit as the sentence, _exactly word for word_ , was something _he_ once said to Raphael and now he was hearing it from the mouth of someone he was finding more and more like himself. That feeling was increasingly … _uncomfortable_.

_Hmmm._

“Pardon. I didn’t intend …” Abraham looked away, his cheeks blushing slightly. “It’s just … I ….” Was Abraham _blushing_? Quintus looked at him carefully and determined, yes … indeed he was. “I actually wrote my undergraduate thesis on you, Mr. Densus.”

“I am aware.” Sempronius said, still not looking up from the book, saying nothing further and Quintus felt as if he was privy to watching something unique unfold. Not even when the Professor had first met _him_ , an immortal dhampir Roman general, had he been so … _giddy_.

“You … “ Abraham paused. “You are _aware?_ ”

“Yes.” He said, turning the page of his book as he read _while_ having the simple conversation. “I’ve read it.”

“You …” Abraham stuttered painfully. “You’ve … _read_ **_my_** _thesis_?”

“Of course.” His eyes trailed the lines of text carefully and quickly. “It’s not every day someone writes something _about me_.”

“I …” The Professor swallowed hard at the disclosure. “What …” Another swallow. “What did you think? Was it … _accurate_?”

Quintus may not have known Sempronius for very long, but he at least knew that the subsequent conversation would likely be a _very bad idea_ , as they both seemed to be of a _difficult_ type of personality and Sempronius rarely held _anything_ back. “Gentlemen, I do not think ….” He tried to steer away from the impending disaster, but Sempronius talked over him firmly.

“Somewhat.” He turned a page, his serious eyes reading each line from side to side steadily, perusing the entire page and shifting to look at the opposite page as he continued his absorption of whatever he was reading.

“Somewhat?” Abraham pushed, his eyebrow flying high. “Define _somewhat_.”

“Roughly sixty percent accurate.”

“Sixty percent accurate?” It was more of a gasp than a statement and Abraham’s thick eyebrows furrowed together madly. “What _exactly_ did I get wrong?”

“It wasn’t you, per se. History is _rarely accurate_.” Sempronius sighed. “All in all, given the material that you had, I think it was an adequate assessment.”

It was nicer than Quintus expected from Sempronius. As he stared at Abraham carefully, the Professor nodded with acceptance before laughing slightly, shaking his head at some internal joke that lightened his normally bitter mood.

“Professor?” Quintus asked, curious of what would cause the man to chuckle so cheerfully.

“ _Sempronius Densus_ … “ He cracked another chuckle as he turned back to his book, finally tearing his eyes from the man whom he obviously considered an idol. “Remember? There are no coincidences, Mr. Quinlan.” Abraham smiled even wider. “Only _eventualities_.”

“Pardon?” Sempronius looked up from the book finally, confused by the words but Quintus smiled ever so slightly as the very corner of his mouth turned up in a tiny curl.

“Indeed, Professor.” He agreed. “ _Indeed_.”

 

* * *

 

Ozryel pulled back from the vision and stared at Michael quietly, awaiting his words of judgement.

“Raphael was there.” Michael closed his eyes tightly.

“That shouldn’t surprise you.” She admitted. “He’s _always_ there. He’s always _everywhere_ , in some form, isn’t he? Nevertheless, _we_ are lucky he was.”

“ _We_?” Michael scoffed.

“ _We_ , as in … you and me and _everything_. If he had not been there, I could not have defeated the _Morning Star_. He would have breached the world once again and–”

“ _Enough_.” Michael stood. “I’ve heard enough. _You should have told me._ ” Disappointment and betrayal washed over his expression, and she looked down with growing shame.

“That was not my decision to make. It was the _Creator’s_.”

“I’m _tired_ of that excuse.” Michael spat. “And _this_? _This_ was your plan for _my child_? To serve her up to the Morning Star?”

“Your child?” She attempted to laugh off the accusation. “Why would you think that?”

“Oz.” He sneered slowly. “[You offered her a knife and told her to end her own life.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/19999834)”

“Oh … _That_.” She cringed slightly as she closed both eyes tightly, peeking through one of them at him shamefully but he refused to smile at the playful gesture. “You saw that, did you?” The answer was entirely non-verbal, as she heard him clench his grip on the staff. “Yeah well … that _wasn’t_ me, that’s what I keep saying. I wasn’t myself–”

“You should have told me _this_.” He snapped at her. “You should have _told me this when you first arrived._ ”

“Look around, brother.” She waved at the cell around her. “It was quite clear we were not allies anylong. And besides, why does it matter? Your child will not–”

“She’s gone, Ozryel!”

“What?” Furrowing her brow with confusion, she asked. “What do you mean gone?”

“I can’t find her and _now_ … **_now_** I learn that she can be used as a vessel for–”

“ _Michael_!” She stood, attempting to reach through the bars for him but he pulled himself away from her reach. “No one knows of _your child_. _No one but You and I know of your mistake!_ ”

“ _And your Nazi butler._ ” Michael grunted.

“Ok, ok. Well … _now 3 people know_. So what? Raphael doesn’t know about her. I’m stuck here. Thomas is a _coward_ and Lucifer has _no way_ to reach into Earth. You have _nothing_ to worry about, _Golden One_.”

“Lucifer?” Michael hesitated, looking down for a moment. “Does _Lucifer_ know about her, Ozryel?”

“I don’t know.” She lied.

“You were planning on bringing him forth, and you _don’t_ know?” Michael challenged the obvious lie.

“Well …” She paused. “The 7th _might_ have sent some particularly sinful souls his way after … “ She cringed. “Whispering certain secrets into their ears but–” Michael sighed heavily, bringing his hand to his forehead as he grumbled, hiding his face from her. “But it doesn’t matter, Brother! It _doesn’t matter_! He can do _nothing_ from hell! Only an incredibly _powerful_ psychic can hear across the divide, brother.”

“A powerful … _psychic_?” Michael’s hands melted away from his face and his jaw dropped. “Like … _a prophet_?”

“ _A prophet_? Maybe? Maybe not though. Lilith couldn’t breach the divide but I’m certain _Sandalphon_ probably could have. But she was an _angel prophet_. Only _one_ of those in all existence. Besides, a prophet hasn’t been born in over five hundred years!” She laughed heartily and merrily, but her smile faded quickly as Michael’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped even further.

“ _Fuck my life._ ” Whispering, his face turned ghostly white and Oz reached forward, grabbing the bars and thrusting her face between them as far as she could. “ _You_ …” He stuttered. “ _… should have told me this. You should have told me all of this._ ”

“ _Michael_ … What exactly aren’t you telling me?” Her brows furrowed as every hair on her body spiked up and goosebumps rippled across her opalescent skin. “Now it is _your turn_ to tell _me_ everything, Brother.”

 

* * *

 

“What on _Earth_ are you researching, Mr. Setrakian?” Sempronius stared down at the book. “This is the _unabridged_ [Twelve Minor Prophets](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve_Minor_Prophets). I am quite sure you have read the original _before_?”

“Oh, well … it’s _unabridged_. I was just wondering what might have been removed. It’s …” Abraham stuttered uncharacteristically and Quintus cocked his head to the right. The obvious nervousness of the old man immediately piqued his interest as it was clear to him he was attempting to hide something. “Nothing much really. Just curiosities I’ve alway had.”

“Hmmm.” Sempronius grunted in disbelief. If Quintus had picked up on Abraham’s attempt at deception, it was likely that Sempronius had as well. “Alright then.”

He was still confused about how exactly it had occurred, but at some point, Abraham had managed to commandeer Sempronius entirely, even getting the man to stand and move to the other end of the table, and Quintus glared at the two from his end.

Abraham’s books were scattered haphazardly across the full length of the table and he was reminded of their time spent hunched over a similar table in the townhome. He watched as they sat side by side, much the same way _he_ had with the Professor, while they worked through translating an ancient Enochian dialect.

Sempronius looked up, immediately observing his confused eyes and he asked simply. “Did you finish that sentence yet?”

“I …” Looking down at the scribbles, he squinted at them. _Letters_ , not _scribbles_. _Letters_. Furrowing his brows at the paper he concluded they were in fact _scribbles_ and _not letters_ at all. He looked back up with wide eyes, trying to hide his confusion from the man who _saw everything_. “No. No. I am _still–_ ”

“Quintus, what is it? Do you require my help?” Sempronius asked plainly. “If you need it, just say so.”

“No, no, no.” Quintus looked back down, shamefully as he pushed the emotions that were boiling within him away. _Stop this childish behaviour_. Why was he suddenly … he took a deep breath in … _jealous_ of Abraham.

 _No, no, no._ He assured his restless mind. Surely, it is _not_ jealousy. He is just in a hurry to learn this, was he not? Abraham was being nothing more than a _distraction_ right now.

 _Damnation_.

“Perhaps we can revisit this mark here?” He pointed down and Sempronius nodded, standing immediately and walking back over to his side when something caught his eye in one of the stacks of books.

“Is this Marklavian’s dictation of the Wheel’s Dreams?” He pulled the book out and Abraham’s eyes grew wide.

“Uh … yes. I found it–”

“This …” Sempronius looked back, waving the smallish journal towards the Professor with curiosity. “This is supposed to be in Metatron’s _personal_ collection, housed at the Citadel.”

“Uh yes. He wasn’t very easy to convince–”

“The prophecies of [Nostradamus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nostradamus), The [Sibylline Oracles](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sibylline_Oracles), The Seven Books of Revelation …” Sempronius started to read off the titles that covered the table, taking more interest in them now. “[Mother Shipton](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_Shipton). [Brahan Seer](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brahan_Seer). [Sacred Books of the East](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacred_Books_of_the_East). The [Dead Sea Scrolls](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_Sea_Scrolls) … _multiple_ translations of the _Dead Sea Scrolls_. The Book of Enoch, standard and _lost_ chapters.”

At the mention of the last title, Quintus sharply met Abraham’s gaze as he wondered suddenly _what_ the Professor _was_ researching as well.

“Oh, I was just curious about–”

“ _Ancient prophecies, obviously_.” Sempronius finished, quickly and succinctly as he read the rest of the titles silently to himself. “However, most of these won’t help you with whatever **_that look_** was about.” He was referring to Quintus locking eyes with Abraham and Quintus realized _nothing_ got past _this man_. “Almost all of these are _false prophets_. But this one …” He flicked the book towards Abraham. “It took me years of badgering for him to even let me _see_ it and even then, I wasn’t allowed out of his library with it.”

“I think I was a bit more of a nuisance about it, honestly.” Abraham laughed out loud. “I had to make a few promises I’m not too happy about.”

Sempronius flicked the pages open, thumbing through its contents gently. “This is an even _older_ dialect of Enochian than what I was helping you with right now, Mr. Setrakian. But it is quite similar. Did you _really_ need help with [Twelve Minor Prophets](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve_Minor_Prophets), or is it _this_ book you are looking to translate?”

“I am aware.” The Professor confessed. “I was building up to requesting your help with that one.”

“Well, I could teach you _how_ to read it, or …” He set the book back down carefully on the table, turning to face the Professor as he locked his hands behind him. “I could just tell you what it says …”

“What is it?” Quintus asked, breaking into the conversation.

“It is the only recording of the prophecies from the Wheel within the wheel.” Sempronius turned with a smirk. “It contains the very prophecy that almost saw you into Oblivion, Quintus.”

_The wheel within the wheel. Sandalphon. The Angel prophet. Secret love of Raphael and bearer of the most frightening prophecy in all of creation._

“ _The prophecy of the … Nephal Child?_ ” Quintus asked while Sempronius nodded at him, his back still to the Professor. Quintus was unable to tear his eyes from Abraham’s as the Professor gave an innocent but intentionally devious smile followed by the tiniest of winks.

_Oh … Professor. What have you been up to?_

Quintus smiled slightly. _How he had missed Abraham._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in Part 1: A Savage Inconvenience, Interlude 5 - The Great Escape, Thomas hands Dawn the knife (which she uses to escape) and encourages her to kill herself. At the time, this should have made ZERO sense, as why would the Master have gone to all the trouble of capturing and torturing her for months. The torturing was to keep Michael at bay with blackmail. It was to let him know that the 7th knew.
> 
> So, why didn’t Michael head to Earth to retrieve Dawn? Because the 7th already knew about her and remember they (Archangels) cannot be destroyed (as we learn, not even by the Face of God). Playing his hand against his brother would have undoubtedly put a target on his back and Ozryel would have let his indiscretion known to all. Instead, he panics and locks Heaven down entirely. Trying to maintain control over what he could.
> 
> The Great Escape lined up, in the timeline, with 3x03, when Quintus decapitated the Bolivar body, which is why the Master was finished with her as leverage and encouraged her to kill herself. He thought he was about to get his hands on the Lumen and once he had the Lumen, it would be game over. He would be able to hide himself as well as learn the location of the Black Site and retrieve all of his lost divinity.


	48. Interlude 6 - Between the Potency and the Existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, don’t read this part if intimacy/passion bothers you, please. Don’t judge the story because it has these scenes … yada yada yada. *disclaimer disclaimer*
> 
> I usually drink a lot of wine when I write these, but I’ve been terribly sick over the last week, so this one was written on cold medicine.
> 
> Sorry not sorry. Actually, yeah I’m sorry. I don’t know WHERE the fuck this chapter came from.
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
>   
>    
>    
>    
> 
> 
> # Warning: This chapter is a bit more **Explicit** than Mature.

[ _Easier - Mansionair_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3nATeGcFdtkhpUrRvgr667)

>   _Face up, untouched_
> 
> _Gazing at the ceiling_
> 
> _Game’s up, never bring you down_
> 
> _Face up, I’ll lose_
> 
> _Carving for some feeling_
> 
> _Game’s up, we’re nowhere to be found_
> 
> _I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m stuck here in my skin_
> 
> _I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m stuck with you_

_Holy fuck._

His body was so warm. Every part of it that touched hers was _so very warm_. At some point, he pulled out, stripped her of the pants and underwear, tossing them to the side with a growl, before collapsing back around her onto all fours. Preparing to resume his marvelous degradation, his hand slipped back to her front, teasing over the skin of her hip tenderly and finally enticing her body gently with his eager fingers, encouraging her to push back against him and his obvious readiness, but he felt her tense with nervous anticipation … _again_.

“ _Relax_ … “ He purred into her ear as he took the lobe between his lips and sucked on it playfully. “ _Relax_ and _surrender_ to me.” His previous words echoed in her mind and she succumbed to his request. Had she ever given up so much control before? Maybe … maybe when she was younger? She couldn’t remember right now. She doubted she would remember much of _anything_ at the moment because her mind was a terrible mess of tangled and lustful thoughts.

There was no separation between them in any way anymore and she was ridiculously eager to further enrich his passioned state. She was _starving_ to hear the growls that were erupting from his normally quiet nature, and in this heated moment, though she was the one being asked to _surrender_ , he was _clearly_ the one who belonged to her. _Utterly. Completely._

Whatever discomfort she felt vanished entirely with his magical touch while she ground her body against his nimble fingers, she lost herself in it … in _him_. Perhaps it was the incredible noises that he was making or maybe it was his incredible fingers or perhaps even the fact that it was all just _a dream_ , but she pushed against him further, inviting him to go deeper and he accepted without _any_ hesitation while his tongue traced the back of her ears, her neck, and he bit the side of her jaw tenderly and then aggressively.

There was a moment went he might have gotten carried away, pulling his hands away from _her_ pleasure and grabbing both hips like handles and thrusting savagely deeper. When she cried out, he pulled back and slowed his rocking, uttering a _non-apology_ softly. “ _I will be more careful._ ”

“Do you prefer _this_ … way?” She asked breathlessly as she gripped the sheet in her small fists.

“This?” He asked playfully, pushing in firmly as she grunted and nodded. “No.” He said immediately. “I prefer the _other_ , but this …” Another push. “This it is _still_ wonderful …” His hand was on the back of her head and then in her hair, tugging it as he kissed the scar he had left on her neck. “And I **_will_** have **_my fill_** of it …”

She wanted him to put his fingers back and when she reached down to grab his hand, still on her hip, he grunted, withdrawing from her warm snugness to flip her around, facing him so his mouth could eagerly find hers and, in the midst of his deep and inhuman kiss, he re-entered her again. This time there was nothing _gradual_ about it, no soft words spoken nor warnings given as he stared hungrily into her eyes. Not fully expecting this, she tensed and he smirked in the middle of their prolonged kiss.

“Shall I notify you next time?” He purred gently as his hands found their way to her bouncing breasts, squeezing them over her clothes greedily while he rocked in and out and she grimaced, missing the distracting touch of his well-trained fingers. He stared down at her mouth as it turned into a frown. “What?” He asked in a pant as his eyes rolled back into the back of his head, continuing to enjoy himself fully. “What do you wish?” There was smile on his lips and something told her, he knew _exactly_ what she wanted but he wanted her to _say_ it.

“Touch me.” She _demanded_ and he smiled as a look of obvious power spread across his face while he pushed again, groaning as he did so and his hands moved to grab her cheeks, spreading her legs for him to attempt a deeper dive.

“ _No_.” He grinned playfully again as his temple knocked against hers before he sat back up to his knees, watching as his body penetrated hers several more times before seizing her right hand with his left and gripping the meatiest part of her thigh with his right and pulling her against him tightly as he watched himself _attempt_ to hilt yet again, making them both groan.

Guiding her hand down between her legs, he made his own demand. “I want to watch you touch _yourself_.” She was about to decline and he began to rub her hand in the sensitive area. “Show me how you do it.”

“What?” Her face was half shock and half embarrassment as she gasped a refusal. “No! I don’t like to–” She tried and he smiled devilishly, interrupting her immediately.

“Do not play coy with me, _Libellula_.” He rattled a grunt as he moved rhythmically against her body. “Like you did that evening …”

“What …” A pause. A squirm. An attempt at retreat from his slow but relentless thrusting, and his hand clutched her hips as he pushed her body down and around him deeper while his fingers began to rub hers against that sensitive knot of flesh. She attempted to lie again. “What … _evening_? I don’t know what you’re–”

“The night when we returned from the sewer, after I had …” Hesitation. A twitch and growl as he recalled. “Turned you away …” His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he closed them slightly while he spoke, twitching again as he grinned whimsically. “Did you … were you … thinking about _me_ as you did it?”

“ _You_ …” Her eyes grew wide and her cheeks flushed an intense rose color. “You could _hear_ that?” 

  


“ _Hear?_ I could hear _every_ breath you took, _every_ night you slept. Every _single_ breath … I counted them. I cherished them.” He convulsed forward in a exaggerated movement with his confession, bringing his forehead against hers briefly. “Do you think I did not _hear_ you pleasure yourself that early morning?” He pushed and pulled as he spoke, his voice cracking as the ecstasy of her body against his skin increased. “Do you think I did not _smell_ you? I could _nearly_ taste you.”

“No …” She frowned and his hand continued to push and circle her fingers, enticing the tips to work on their own against her throbbing nerves. “No … I didn’t .. oh my god … you knew??” Her looked was horrified and he chuckled.

“How could I _not_?” He heaved, his back arching as his hips crushed against her legs. “I was _certain_ you were doing so just to _torment_ me.” His brows furrowed marvelously as he bit into his lower lip, looking down at himself again, watching his ebbing and flowing penetration. “To _tease_ me.” There was a rattle and his face turned up to the ceiling as his eyes closed tightly, taking a deep breath in before he gazed back down upon her. “I was _sure_ you were doing so to … _punish_ me for pushing you away. And it worked …”

“Quintus, I don’t … “ Her cheeks flushed with shame and he grinned at her show of innocence as his hand left hers, obviously hoping she would leave it there and comply with his desire but she pulled it back immediately, making him growl at her refusal. Reaching for it again, he pulled her hand back down to the moist flesh between her legs.

"It will please me _greatly_.” He came forward, onto all fours around her, as he pushed and pulled in and out, before stealing a kiss and sitting back up to his knees so he could _view_ the show he was requesting to observe from her. “Do you not wish _to please_ me, _Lula_?”

“I do.”

“Please. Show me.” The last sentence was a _pout_ as he rubbed her fingers again. “I wish to learn. Teach me.”

“I do.” His grinned widened and he pulled his hand back again. Though she left her fingers there this time, she made _no movements_ with them as he halted his own, gripping her upper thighs tightly as they locked eyes. “But … what do I get? What about … _my pleasure_?”

“Are you not _pleased_?” His look shifted from playfulness to mild concern as his head tilted to the right ever so slightly. “Do you find me … _inadequate_?” The last word was followed by an action she was entirely unprepared for as he flowed back into her with a hard and incredibly quick thrust as the playful grin returned to his face and she whimpered from the force of it. He returned to his firm but slow pulling and pushing, ebbing and flowing, giving and taking all while he stared down at her idle hand with hopeful eyes.

“I just thought …” God damn, his body was warm and hers was starting to sweat from the contact. She could feel the beads of moisture accumulating upon her upper lip and she winced from his unrelenting size. She was suddenly glad this was a dream, as she wasn’t sure what this might be like if they were awake. “… _this was a negotiation._ ”

“Mmmmmm. _Indeed_.” His eyes never moved from her hand, eagerly waiting for her to stroke herself. “Name it.” She hesitated and he came down around her again, kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck, her scar as her free hand trailed up his check to the back of his skull, gently scraping her nails against the bare skin of his head as he rattled madly, unable to keep himself from twitching. “ _Name it._ ” He demanded loudly, rolling back to his knees to stare down at her.

“I want to watch you …” She gulped.

All movement ceased and he stared at her curiously, finding her eyes quickly. “Pardon?”

Her cheeks flushed red again and her eyes grew wide. She was almost _too embarrassed_ from his reaction to say it again, but she forced the words out timidly. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

“But …” Furrowing his brows deeply, a pout spread across his pale mouth as he looked down at himself, still snugly within her. It was obvious that he didn’t wish to stop his current act. “But I am enjoying …”

“Later then.” She qualified and he remained frozen, lost in his own thought for a moment. She nearly retracted the offer as the moment seemed to draw itself out for far too long, making it uncomfortable. His eyes moved twice, between her hand and her eyes and back and forth again, lingering at each only momentarily, and she could see him weighing the desire to watch _her_ against her own request to watch him. “After this–”

“ _No_.” He shook his head in revulsion of the idea and her shame for asking deepened. “You do not wish to see _that_. No.” He remained still and the awkward silence continued. “Absolutely not.”

“Ok then.” Pulling her hand back he snatched it immediately as he pouted further, moving it back down to where he had it, pushing her fingers against the area as he sighed deeply. “Quintus …” She started to …

“ _Please_.” His demand turned to a request and she was not used to hearing such tenderness in his voice. He asked emotionally as his eyes found hers before sulking more significantly this time. “Do not ask this of me. You do _not_ wish to see that … it is … _distasteful._ ”

“You don’t think I feel the same way?” She attempted to wiggle up, away from him but he gripped her with his free hand as his face scrunched in disapproval.

“No.” He shook his head. “ _That_ is not beautiful. You do not wish to see _that_.”

“Neither is _this_.” She motioned to her own body in embarrassment.

“It is different. You … you are _beautiful_. I am not–”

“We’ll just call it even. It’s fine.” Her hand attempted one final retreat and he _surrendered_ as he grumbled lowly in disdain.

“Fine. I agree to your terms, but … ” Twitching significantly, he watched her move her hand back into place on its own. “But … _entirely to completion_ … and _first_ …” He brushed his fingers over the skin of her fingers, grabbing and pulling them up to his mouth as he kissed the tips before inserting the three longest ones into his mouth and wetting them against the moisture of his tongue.

She watched, with wide-eyed shock and enticement as he greased her hand with his mouth and placed it back where he wished to see it, burrowing it into her hair so she could feel his wet warmth against her skin. “ _Now … show me_.”

She gave him what he desired and a glorious smile spread across his wide lips as he began his own movements again, purring even louder than before as he curled his lips up with each satisfying pump against her body.

“ ** _[Dedere](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Surrender.)_**.” He spoke in Latin, coaxing her to repeat after him as he pulled the shirt up and off of her body before relieving her torso of the constrictive bra to free the treasures hidden within. He gripped them eagerly as he repeated the word. “ ** _[Dedere](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Surrender.)_**.”

“Dead-air-dey.” She attempted and he laughed at her accent, increasing his rhythm and application of force as he pulled the dangling, cut shirt from his body finally, throwing it to the side.

“ ** _Surrender_**.”

 

* * *

[ _Angels - The xx_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1zuKjpp4t7BS8JPKi6mkQr)

 

> _And everyday_
> 
> _I am learning about you_
> 
> _The things that no one else sees_
> 
> _And the end comes too soon_
> 
> _Like dreaming of angels_
> 
> _And with words unspoken_
> 
> _A silent devotion_
> 
> _I know you know what I mean_
> 
> _And the end is unknown_
> 
> _But I think I’m ready_
> 
> _As long as you’re with me_

Was it possible to _sleep_ within a dream? Perhaps, but he wasn’t sure this was actually a dream any longer. Where ever he was, with her, _right now_ , was some place between waking and sleeping, someplace hidden away between dreaming and conscious thought. He _knew_ he was here _because of her_ , because in his very, _very_ long life, he had _never_ experienced this place until he had _met_ her. Something within him pushed a bit farther with this explanation and he cringed as his mind embraced. No, not until he had _met_ her … until he had _drank_ her.

Part of him longed to wake from it, because though it was _more real_ than a _dream_ , it _was_ still just a sleeping memory and all of his senses were muted here. Dulled. He wished to take in deep breaths of her _angelica_ scent and run his lips along her spotted skin to taste hints of that same liquorice flavor in the liquid that pumped beneath its beautifully spotted surface. It wasn’t that he was hungry for her blood. It wasn’t that at all. It’s that he was _hungry_ for her _unique_ and _delicate_ flavor. It’s not that he craved sustenance, but rather, he craved the satisfaction that her mere presence brought to him and he couldn’t explain why. The satiation of _this ache_ was the most precious peace he’d ever felt.

Laying on his back, one hand propped behind his head, he looked around at the messy and cold room, remembering his abuse of her the first time they had been allowed to formally meet. How far the story had come since that moment and he was grateful that he was able to _repair_ any damage that his untrusting nature had caused. He wondered if it had been the _other way around_ and she had attempted to kill him first, would he have ever even allowed her to make it up to him? Likely not, but … he digressed. They were here and he was so very grateful. 

  


[Originally posted by lovershub](https://tmblr.co/Z43mrh2MMlAAv)

Breathing deeply, she laid against his side, with one knee pulled up across his body and her head resting against the side of his chest as his arm wrapped around her protectively, stroking the soft skin of her arm long after she had fallen asleep. It had been a very long time since the world seemed as quiet as it did in this very instant. No longer driven by the desperate and overwhelming need for revenge, he took long and heavy breaths of relief as he wished the moment could be stretched out indefinitely.

But … he could feel it with every fiber of his being _now_ and it was unnerving at the very least. His time here was drawing to a close. It wasn’t fear, but rather _apprehension_ laced with _powerful_ regret that coursed through his preternatural body. He had always assumed some kind of afterlife would await him, but he wondered what _oblivion_ would be like. Would it be just like sleeping, when one doesn’t dream at all? Would _this_ be the last time he shared _this strange_ place with her?

With one blink of his eyes, he found himself back in the cabin and awake, staring up at the ceiling. Their positions quite similar, with her still dozing, nuzzled into the side of his chest and his arm wrapped around her. He wished they could have stayed there for as long as possible, waiting until she woke, but his heat was causing her to sweat and the fire needed tending.

As he pulled himself carefully from her grip, he eased off of the couch, stretching his head from side to side before checking the window to verify they hadn’t slept the _entire_ day away. It was early afternoon at the latest and he sighed with relief.

 _They still had some time. Several hours at least._ The storm still raged as the wind wailed and knocked against the shutters outside, whistling endlessly through the cracks in the broken glass. He would not go for the _Master_ until it passed, it simply wouldn’t be possible.

After adding more wood to the flames and cleaning himself of his own mess this time, he considered waking her but he couldn’t bear to disturb her peace and instead eased down onto the floor in front of the couch, leaning his back against it to allow his bare, scarred skin to touch her arm as he stared into the fire with melancholy eyes.

##  _Only hours now …_

##  _But they still had_ **_some_** _time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Here, have some holy water.
> 
> So, on the google doc where I write all the Interludes for Part 2, it is now up to 79 pages. 79 pages?!? What have I done?!? ಠ▃ಠ


	49. 7.1 - Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being late to respond to comments this week. I had a terrible virus and was a bit out of it. (◠‿◠✿)ノ

[ _Believer - Imagine Dragons_](https://open.spotify.com/track/1NtIMM4N0cFa1dNzN15chl)

 

> _I’m fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh_
> 
> _The way that things have been, oh ooh_
> 
> _Second thing_
> 
> _Second, don’t you tell me what you think that I can be_
> 
> _I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea, oh ooh_
> 
> _The master of my sea, oh ooh_
> 
> _I was broken from a young age_
> 
> _Taking my soul into the masses_
> 
> _Write down my poems for the few_
> 
> _That looked at me took to me, shook to me, feeling me_
> 
> _Singing from heart ache from the pain_

She had no idea where they were, but they walked quickly and with determination down the cobblestone streets of Rome. EL lead the way and she could feel the electricity of the anticipation humming through the air as she walked through the cold, damp night as Thomas trailed closely behind her.

There was something particularly special about this moment and she felt that same strange feeling again. The feeling that she felt in her dream the moment before she turned and faced her sister, _The Corruptor_ , for the first time. It was _time_ … and it was vibrating all around her, sending the hairs on her arms straight up. _Something_ substantial was about to occur.

EL stopped at the corner, pointing down a conspicuously dark alley. They’d left the comforts of the more touristy parts of the city well over a mile ago, and he weaved them through a rather seedy looking residential area and now he pointed down into the darkness.

> “There. Do you see it?” EL chimed.

Even with Quintus’ ridiculously dark glasses on, she could indeed see. There was a metal door and a man sitting on a stool in front of it. A big man. Scratch that. A HUGE man. This man easily had at least six inches on Fet. _Jesus … Christ._

To say he was “muscular” wasn’t doing his physique justice and he bared them for all to see with a skin tight black wife beater. His skin was a reddish color, seeming as though he’d gotten a bit too much sun, but she knew that was likely not the case. The reddish tint was his natural color. He was bald, but his face was covered in thick black facial hair. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, just like her.

 _Interesting_. 

> “Half-breed [Ifrit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ifrit).” EL explained. “Yeah, he’s big … but it’s so very rarely about size. Trust me, he’s no match for you. And he’s not what I’m talking about … do you _see_ it?”

“See what?” She asked and Thomas peered around her, looking down the alleyway to _spy_ whatever she could have been talking about. 

> “The glyph. It’s the password. Open your mind, _little Dawn_. Use the _Eyes of God_.” EL touched the very side of her temple as his finger sparked with red and she saw the door behind the man illuminate with _celestial_ symbols. A single row of them, vertical along the metal. _Enochian._

“ _Holy shit._ ” 

> “Fucking _**Order of[Argaman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argaman)**_. Sneaky little shits.” EL laughed. “They’re everywhere these days. Breeding like little fucking bunnies.”

“Here? Why so close to Quintus?” She asked. “Did he know about them?” 

> “Exactly. _Exactly._ It’s not coincidence that the _most powerful_ Marid Djinn lives mere miles from him. They’ve been keeping an eye on him since he was born.”

“But why?” She countered. 

> “Fear? Caution? _Envy_?” EL shrugged, waving off her question. “Who the fuck cares? I guess we can ask Abyad if you’re _really_ curious.”

_Fair enough._

She turned back, nodding to Thomas, who held the briefcase full of money _and_ that _precious_ celestial book in his grip, and he nodded back as he tugged his suit straight down, removing wrinkles from it before checking the tightness of his tie as he asked. “Is this the place?”

“Should we _really_ have brought the _Lumen_?” She asked EL _again_. She’d pushed for them to leave it at the condo and he’d refused. “It’s risk–” 

> “I don’t want it out of our sight _and_ … [Abyad](http://jinn.wikia.com/wiki/Al-Abyad) isn’t going to take the offer seriously unless he _knows_ we have it.” EL could see the worry breaking through her spotted face and he smirked with a playful wink. “No one’s gonna be able to take it from you. You have _no idea_ what you are capable of now.”

“Ok.” She took a deep and long breath, pulling the hood as far forward as it would go and began to take a step from the sidewalk to approach the massive bouncer. “Let’s do this then.” 

> “Aurora … Wait.” EL stepped in front of her and she looked up into his rainbow eyes with growing confusion. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

“What?” She asked with wide and lovely eyes. “Turn back? Why would I–” 

> “This is the moment when you can _chose_ to go back to how it was before. If you step through that door … If things go sideways.” There was bitter hesitation in his words and he pushed himself to continue as his lips curled up into a sneer. “It’s not too late.”

“Not too late for _what_?” 

> “To _turn back_.” EL was genuine in this offer and she could _feel_ the apprehension in his mind as he asked her to turn back. “… _you can find happiness somewhere else_.”

“After all of this? You think I should just … _give up now_?” 

> “It’s not giving up.” He shook his head. “It’s _healing_. Letting memories of those lost _fade_.”

“And you?” She asked simply. “Have you _healed_ … after losing _her_? Has _her_ memory faded?” She knew it hadn’t, because she saw how crisp and clear and _bitter_ his vision of Lilith had been. 

> “That’s _not_ the same.” He snapped. “She was–”

“Yes. It’s _exactly_ the same.” She snapped back as she tried to walk around him. 

> “Aurora … ” He grabbed her arm firmly. “ _Diana_.”

"Don’t call me that. That’s **_not_** my name anymore.” She spat, trying to pull her arm from him but he ignored her protests. “Yesterday is _dead_. **_She's dead._** ” 

> “We can walk away from this. Forget _this_. Forget _him_. Live your life. Move on. We can be free–”

“You don’t understand …” She pulled her arm from his grip and his brows furrowed in disappointment. “The choice was already made … long before today.”

As she stepped around him, she took several steps before he spoke again. 

> “And if you are wrong …”

Stopping in her stride, she didn’t turn back to him as she answered. “Wrong about what?” 

> “What if he’s moved on. What if … he doesn’t _want_ to come back?” EL asked. “What if he’s found _peace_? What if he’s found _happiness_?”

Dawn closed her eyes tightly as she tried to push _that doubt_ away and crossed the street to the manned door without a further word to him on the subject, but Quintus’ voice rattled through her mind. That most _painful_ and _agonizing_ sentence that so often plagued her confidence. 

> **_“I have loved one and only one in all of my life, and I plan to ONLY love her … I go there with her on my mind and in my heart, always. She awaits me in eternity. It would be … unfair to you for me to pretend otherwise.”_ **

Clenching her jaw, she fought back the tears that were already welling in her eyes and her heart _hurt_ as his voice, that night when he had fully rejected her lips, rattled in her mind.

Could she turn back now? Was EL right? Could she choose to walk away?  From Quinuts?  From whatever path Lilith had set her on even before she was born?

No. Because it was _Lilith who was right. The choice was already made._ She made it in that _cabin_ … She chose him and he had chosen her.

 ** _Derede_**.

 _Surrender_.

 

* * *

_[Shoot and Run - Josef Salvat](https://open.spotify.com/track/5lhASYS8N56DLperDij6eZ)_  

> _Oh, she doesn’t know much_
> 
> _But she knows this_
> 
> _Life’s too short not to take risks_
> 
> _Oh, she steals herself and she goes for luck_

He looked her up and down carefully as he picked at his teeth with his unnatural tongue. She was tiny, packing two miniature uzis that he was certain she couldn’t handle. He could see the outline of the extra ammo in her pockets and the unmenacing short blade strapped to her back. Seeing her approach, he might have exercised caution because of the armoury, but he could hear the nervous beating of her heart and he _smiled_.

Next, he eyed the gentleman directly behind her. Obviously, this was the man in charge and his cool, collected, and calm demeanour showed that. He was dressed professionally in a gray suit and wasn’t packing anything but a fancy briefcase.

“Got a problem?” The curvy woman asked him menacingly as he stared down upon her incredibly short stature.

“I think you’re lost, little thing.” He chuckled. “This ain’t the place for your kind.” 

  


“We would like entry into your establishment.” The older man from behind her spoke with a thick german accent and for the first time, he got a whiff of something _inhuman_ from his breath.

 _Hmmmm. Unbound Stryx Scum_.

“We don’t allow _your_ kind here.” He huffed at them, flicking his jaw back towards the road to urge them to get lost.

“My kind?” The strigoi took offense, bringing his hand up and touching his chest.

“No.” He looked down at the woman, smirking as he spoke. “ _Hers_. We don’t cater to _humans_ here.”

“Who says I’m _human_?” She queried curiously cocking her hooded head to the right. “Besides, I’m only _half_ … just like _you_ … am I right?”

“Yer a bit tiny for a _half-breed_ , firecracker.” He pulled his sunglasses down, exposing his red irises to her fully, he slid off his stool to eye her more closely, taking a deep breath of her scent in. “Password then?”

She looked at the door, up and down before she smiled, reading it clearly. “Tainted Boomerang.”

He hadn’t changed it in a few hours and he reached back, tapping the metal until the words shifted again at his will and she grinned wider.

“Essential Screwdriver.”

 _Hmmmm._ She didn’t look like a Djinn. She was so small. He tapped it again and the words shifted while her smile never faded and she stared at him, without even moving her face to read the door.

“Old Torpedo.”

He tapped again as something worried him about this woman, but the man, clearly in charge, spoke up from behind her. “Is this _really_ necessary? We do _not_ have all night.”

“Fine.” He placed himself back onto the stool. “But the weapons stay here.”

“My … _weapons?_ ” She paused as she reached back for the sword handle defensively.

He shook his head. “You can keep your tiny little pigsticker. I ain’t worried about that. But the _guns_. They stay _or_ so do both of you.”

As she hesitated, she looked off to the corner, as if she was listening for something and the man spoke again. “Fraulein, do not worry. I am sure we can have them back when we exit?” The last part was a question directed to the bouncer and he nodded.

“Fine.” She sneered, reluctantly pulling the guns from their holsters.

 

* * *

 

She was actually expecting a dark and dirty nightclub, but what she was met with was something far more elegant and bright. White and silver … _everywhere_.

“Well …” EL quipped, walking in front of her with a spin as they entered a massive hall. “He _is_ Abyad, _The White_ , after all.”

There was a bar, there were tables, there was music. A singer. A piano. A grand staircase. It _was_ a nightclub, for all intents and purposes, but it was bright. The walls were clean and _white_. The tables and chairs all _shiny silver_. The people within it, however, were just as grungy as she would have expected, but they were **_far_** from _human._

As they made their way to the bar, Dawn pulled out the stool and hoisted herself up to it, cursing her short stature as her legs dangled aimlessly from the height of it. Thomas opted to stand, leaning over the counter before jerking his arm back suddenly as she heard a sizzle and smelled his burnt flesh.

“[Scheisse](https://translate.google.com/#en/de/Shit)!” He rubbed his palm and eyed the counter suspiciously and the flecks of silver along its shiny marble surface. 

> “Haha! Fuckin’ Silver. It’s everywhere.” EL explained with amusement at Thomas’ shock. “Abyad has a thing for it. He can derive power from it. Every Djinn King has a metal they can pull from, but it’s also their weakness. Dad was never without a sense of humor, you know.”

“Derives power?” She asked lowly, staring at Eichhorst as if she was asking the question to him and not the invisible entity off to her right. 

> “You’ll be able to do the same, and not _just_ with one thing.” EL smiled as his eyes trailed up the grand staircase and to the second floor. She followed his gaze. “With _everything_ and _everyone_ around you.”

The second floor balcony was open and several large men, easily as large as the one outside, stood around the entrance to the stairs. Important looking men shuffled about, around fancy furniture and, even with her glasses on, she could see a _massive_ fireplace at the end of the open room. 

> “He’ll be the one in _white_.” EL chuckled. “Of course.”

Her eyes moved from man to man. Two guards. Five men, mostly in suits. She couldn’t see a man in white, but she saw a man in black, with long brown hair and tattoos across his face and trimmed dark facial hair. All in all, he was awfully attractive. 

> “Hey. **_Focus_**.” EL said with disgust.

“What’ll you have?” Her attention shifted back to the man behind the counter who approached for their drink orders and that _incessant_ itch in the back of her mind began again. She could hear someone _screaming … crying_. It was the same thing that happened earlier with _Eichhorst_.

“Do you have B-Positive?” Thomas asked and the bartender nodded.

“You?”

Her hand trembled, coming up to her head as she tried to force the screaming woman’s voice away. “Your strongest. Whatever it is.”

“ _Sweetheart_ , I don’t think you can handle our strongest. That ain’t for _human_ consumption.” 

> “Yeah right, buddy.” EL laughed out loud. “Fucking pleb.”

She smiled slightly as EL used her favorite term, she cocked her head as her nervousness began to finally dissipate. “Did I stutter?”

“Your funeral, ma’am.” The older man shrugged and walked away to retrieve their orders. As the distance between them increased, the screams faded away and her hand came down. EL leaned against the bar, staring down into her face, waiting for her to ask with a raised eyebrow. She could tell he already knew.

“What is that?” She shook her head slightly. “What’s happening to me?” 

> “ _That?_ ” He grinned. “The _Ears of God_. You’re _becoming_ , Aurora. Your divinity is charging.”

“ _Ears of God_?” She remembered Abraham calling the _scream_ that the _Master_ did the _Voice of God_. He picked up on this thought **_immediately_**. 

> “Not just the _Master_. You remember the base. You remember what **_you_** did to all those men when you thought they killed him. _THAT_ was The _Voice of God_.”

“Yeah.” She remembered the pain, both hers and theirs. She remembered screaming. “What is it though … the _Ears_? I keep hearing people … ” 

> “You can hear their sinful pasts. When you learn to listen more clearly, you’ll be able to make them out with absolute clarity. Right now, you’re only picking up the echos of the _most sinful ones_.”

Dawn looked back at Eichhorst, who was already scanning the room and the balcony, the same as she had. The _screams_ she heard from him early were much louder than the crying woman she heard from the bartender just now. The _screams_ from the Nazi were hundreds … maybe _thousands_ of people and she shuddered. 

> “Oh yes.” EL smirked with pleasure as he licked his lips greedily. “Thomas is quite a _bad boy_. I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on his soul for quite some time now.”

“It’s fucking annoying.  How do I turn it off?”  She scrunched her nose and EL laughed out loud. 

> “Turn it off?  You can’t.  It’s useful though.  You’ll learn.”

“Ok.  Eyes, Voice, Ears. What else is there?” She wondered. The voice, the ears … but the bartender was back, setting the blood down first and pushing a shot glass over to her with a liquid that looked like it was pure mercury. Perhaps liquid _silver_. She could smell the alcohol scent it emitted and she cringed at its intensity.

_Hmmmm._

“Thank you very much.” Thomas nodded, reaching into his suit pocket to retrieve his billfold. “How much is owed?”

“On the house, Herr Eichhorst.” The bartender smiled and nodded up towards the balcony.

As both of their gazes shifted, the man in all black, with the tattoos on his face, tilted a glass towards Thomas and grinned with a head nod.

“How do they know **_you_**?” She asked with a concerned whisper and Thomas shook his head. “Do you know them?””

“I do not know, little one.” His voice was riddled with just as much concern and the man with the tattoos walked to a guard at the top of the staircase entrance, pointing to Thomas. As the guard began to walk down the steps, Dawn took a deep breath in. 

> “ _Relax_.” EL assured her. “There’s no way they wouldn’t know this Nazi piece of shit. They’ve been watching the Ancients, the same as Quintus. Thomas almost helped destroy the world, right? Watch and wait.”

As the guard approached them, Dawn took the liquid and downed it in one gulp. She had expected it to burn, but it was ice cold and she could feel an immediate numbing sensation begin to tingle her entire body, starting in her throat, and emanating out to the rest of her body in waves. Finally some alcohol that fucking _worked_.

“Whoa.” Escaped her mouth before she could stop it and EL giggled. 

> “Silver Fire.” He named it.

“Mr. Reynolds would like a word with you, Herr Eichhorst.” The guard had a posh English accent and it surprised her for the size of him. At a closer distance, it was clear he wasn’t quite as big as the man outside, more Fet’s size and his skin was actually quite pale, nearly white. It reminded her of Quintus somewhat. 

> “Marid half-breed. Far more dangerous than the bouncer, but … as I keep saying …” EL walked around him, looking him up and down. “Nothing for _us_ to worry about.”

_Plebs._

“Very good.” Thomas said, putting down his half-drunk glass of blood and turning, still clutching the briefcase to his chest as he took a step to follow the man.

When she attempted the same, the guard turned quickly, putting a hand out to halt her. “Just _him_.”

This immediately put Thomas on guard, as he turned back to her with a concerned and somewhat frightened face. “Absolutely not. She is my _bodyguard_.” In all actuality, this wasn’t far from the truth at all and the look of sudden fear across his face made her realize it wasn’t that he was scared of _her_ at all. He was scared of _them_.

The guard laughed a scoff at the statement as he looked back at the bone sword handle. “All the more reason she stays here then. Just _you_. This isn’t a request.” 

> “Let him go. See if he can negotiate this on his own.” EL sat down at the stool beside. “We’ll play it by ear.”

“Ok.” She said, nodding at Thomas to comply. “But the moment he’s out of my sight, I’m coming up there.”

“Yeah. Right.” The guard laughed again and she wished so much to wipe that smirk off of his goddamn face.

 **_Yeah … Right._**  

> “Fucking plebs.” EL chimed again with growing amusement as he turned and flicked his chin towards the Nazi as he slowly and calmly climbed the stairs. “Now … use your senses. _Listen_.”

 

* * *

 

“How hard is it to find _one man_?” Abyad asked with annoyance as he stared into the massive fire. “ONE MAN?! We have kept dibs on the _Ancients_ and their slippery little progeny _for years_ and yet Barqan is still nowhere to be found?!”

“Sir.” One of the men said as he shifted uncomfortably. “Your brother is _not_ a man and for that matter, he is _not_ just a Djinn. He is The Black King. He and the others vanished immediately after–”

“ ** _Nor is he Hayyoth_** , yet he’s still managing to _evade_ us even now?” Abyad scoffed, turning back to the fire to add a log as his silver eyes danced in its light behind his dark glasses and he forced the fire left and right with the mere flick of his mind. “This is unacceptable. Why would he even feel the need to _hide_ from me? What the bloody hell could he be _hiding_? He’s been in a bottle for ten thousand years for Christ’s sake.” 

  
  


“And you’re absolutely certain he wasn’t caught in the explosion?” [Raum](http://genies.wikia.com/wiki/Raum) joined the conversation and asked as he placed his hand on the handle of the scimitar sheathed on his right hip, walking back from the stairs after requesting the guard to retrieve the Nazi downstairs.

“No.” Abyad said. “Barqan lives. I _feel_ it. He’s hiding something from us, otherwise he would have come home already.”

“And us? Why don’t we go home? Why are we still here?” Raum asked. “The Prince of Snakes is gone. Dead. Finally. Why are we not free from this … _task?_ Has there been _no word_ from Argaman at all?”

Abyad was normally a cheerful man, but he turned with frustration across his face. “The god remains silent. Since the gates of Heaven were locked when this strigoi _war_ began, there are eyes and ears _everywhere_. We will hear from him soon enough. Until then, we wait for a sign of the _Nephilim Prince_.”

“What’s the point–” Raum started to argue but Abyad cut him off with a whimsical smile.

“You know the same as I … Until I see his god forsaken body with my own fucking eyes, the Invictus reappear at _any time_. He has done so before. I have no doubts he will do so again.”

“Sir, no one could have survived–”

“Really? Did _Ozryel_ not?” Abyad quipped and Raum fell silent. “Did the reports not say _Ozryel_ was seen, breaching the clouds after the _Face of God_ fell on that lake, soaring back into the bosom of Heaven? Is the Prince _not_ born from Ozryel’s blood?”

“Yes.” Raum nodded.

“Then we wait. Until I see his rotting, lifeless corpse. We wait. We have both witnessed that _abomination_ pull himself _out of the ashes_ after the most unsurvivable scenarios. My god, have you forgotten [Vesuvius](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Vesuvius) already?”

“No …” Raum laughed with wide eyes as he remembered it while lightning cracked outside. “No, I absolutely have not. I still don’t understand how he could have walked away from that.” 

  


“Exactly. He is _Hayyoth_. They are born of **_richer fire_** than even we are. We wait … do what we have been told until we hear from the Order.”

The conversation fell quiet as the men shifted, seeing that the guard had brought the Nazi to them. “Ahhhh … Herr Eichhorst. Do have a seat … _please_.”

 

* * *

 

She stared down at the counter, tapping the newly filled shot glass, sloshing the thick, silvery liquid around within it. She wasn’t _really_ staring at the counter though, she was focusing. She was _listening_. 

> “Raum, your _hot_ one, is his left hand. He’s full-blooded Marid. _Deadly and old_. Not a king though … more like a _Earl_.” EL explained while she listened to them exchange pleasantries.

“Forgive me …” Thomas said graciously. “But do we know each other? I am certain I would not have forgotten someone such as you.”

“Of course not.” She hadn’t seen him yet, but the voice was obviously the _King’s_. “You would definitely remember me if we had met _formally_.” He was almost whimsical in how he addressed people.

_Ego. He overestimated himself._

She could _hear_ , in the delivery of his words, that he was smiling, believing he had the upper hand still. Perhaps _always_.

“But of course we know of you, Herr Eichhorst. The Right Hand of _the Right Hand_.” A laugh. He was enjoying thinking he had the upper hand. “Lost your way since your _Master_ left you here? What brings you into our humble city?”

_Hubris._

“But of course it is YOU who have brought us here, your majesty.” Thomas quipped back, playing up to the obvious _ego_ cleverly. There was a palpable hesitation from The King, as Thomas addressing him as royalty showed a bit of knowledge on the strigoi’s part. No doubt the King was sizing him up right now, trying to determine how much Thomas might have learned from his _Master_. “You have heard of me, just as I have heard of you, Murrah al-Abyad Abu al-Harith, The White King.” She could hear Thomas bowing slightly.

“ _Hmmm_.” A hesitation. A pause. Tension. Negotiation. Push and pull. Eichhorst did what he does best and he maintained complete composure and coolness. No one moved and she nearly _heard_ Abyad considering what to say next. Thomas was nudging his buttons gently. Clever. “Indeed. So … What brings you before me, Herr Eichhorst?”

“I seek to pay for services that I am told only **_you_** can provide.” Thomas patted the briefcase.

“Services?” The White laughed heartily. “You think I’ll _service_ you? I don’t service anyone. Let alone a _lost little rat_ like you?”

“You will be paid, of course.” Thomas said plainly. “Quite generously. We are not without our resource–”

“You think I _need_ your money.” A laugh. _Hubris_. Her lips curled up in aggravation and EL’s hand on her shoulder calmed her growing fire. “Look around, abomination. You have _nothing_ I want.”

“Perhaps not then.” Thomas stood, buttoning his jacket back together as he began to turn and she furrowed her golden brows, frustration mounting. “Forgive the intrusion then. Have a good day, your majesty.” 

> “He knows what he’s doing. He can read the room quite well.” EL assured.

“How much are we talking about?” The Nazi only made it two steps before Abyad bit. “And … what service, _exactly_ , is it that you wish from me?”

She smiled.

_Hubris and greed._

“My King.” Thomas turned back, returned, and sat. He brought the briefcase up to set it on something as she heard his mouth turn up into a devilish grin. “I have been told that you may be able to turn this into something more … _useful_ for me.”

The briefcase clicked and she heard it open as the vibrations emanating from the book within flooded the entire building. Several patrons picked up on it immediately, and their gazes turned up towards the balcony. Others stood.

EL smiled as he popped off the stool and took a wide look around, clapping his hands. 

> “Now … We get to see if he’s willing to play ball.”

“And if he doesn’t?”  She asked but EL only smiled devlishly in return.

  


Hesitation. Palpable silence. Seconds of nothing then …

##  _**“My book …”** _


	50. 7.2 - Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a HUGE hiatus in update and I apologize. I have NOT lost the drive to write or to finish the story. Do not worry. The story is quite mapped out in my mind and there are incredible things to come.
> 
> I've let the stress of certain _fandom_ things affect my ability to write, but after I got the chapter finally finished today, the stress was alleviated and I realized that the best way to deal with the _drama_ is just to stick my head down, ignore it, and the WRITE THE CRAP OUT OF MY STORY.
> 
> As always. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this!

“So …” Abraham hesitated, staring down at the ancient text. “Is this word _nephal_ or is it _abomination_?”

“It is both. Or possibly neither. It is a word that many have found confusing, but I believe the closest translation of it is _nephal_.” Sempronius explained, pointing to the words within the ancient prophecy. Quintus sat very still and _listened_ to the two men discuss the Wheel within the Wheel’s book of dreams as he fiddled with the shell that he had discovered in his pocket. He’d nearly forgotten that he had taken it from Ancharia’s room and now, his nervous habit of fiddling with the locket was shifted to this small, spiny thing in his fingers.

“But obviously it has a definition somewhere? The meaning of words don’t just _vanish_?” The Professor suggested and Sempronius shrugged with a small grin.

“No, you misunderstand, Abraham.” Sempronius had started calling him by his first name since they’d resolved their differences - not _Setrakian_ , nor _Professor_ , but just _Abraham_. “It did not _just_ vanish, but you must remember that Enochian is the oldest language in existence. It is constantly changing, updating, evolving. New words are always being created and introduced. This was a _new word_ , never before seen, then never used again. It is _almost_ a combination of other words, yet it was as if Sandalphon created a new word just for _this_ being. Nephal _but_ also _abomination_ , or more closely translatable to _forbidden_. This is why _all eyes_ were on Quintus when he arrived. Just as this strange new word, he was something equally unique and therefore perceived as _quite dangerous_.”

“But …” Abraham pointed at half of the swirled and curvy scribbles of the word again as Quintus squinted. “That’s not _nephal_ exactly, or is that a mistake?”

“Exactly.” Sempronius smiled with excitement, slapping his hand down on the table with uncharacteristic glee. He was pleased with the Professor’s keen eye. “ _Exactly Abraham._ Very good. That what makes this word all the more confusing. It has been assumed it is just a _smudge_ of the ink, perhaps an unintentional drip from the fountain pen. But …”

“You do not believe that the case?” Quintus squinted harder to see what in the world they were talking about.

“Not at all.”

Abraham turned back to shoot Quintus a perturbed glance and Sempronius raised an eyebrow at their shared moment, trying to ignore their attempt at a secret interaction. Perking up, Quintus stood and leaned over the two men. “What is a _smudge_?”

“You see …” Sempronius was almost giddy. “Sandalphon’s writing is absolutely pristine. Everywhere. _Always_. Their technique is beautifully flawless, so why this one _smudge_. I assure you, I have been through this entire book. Through many more of their writings … _pristine_. Sandalphon _never_ makes mistakes.”

“I don’t follow.” Quintus looked down and saw the very smallest of dots on the underside of the very end of the word’s middle character. That was obviously a smudge. It looked like exactly what Sempronius had mentioned and perhaps too much ink was left on the pen and simply dripped onto the page. “That … that _dot_?”

“It’s confusing because it’s usually more pronounced. Two to three times longer than this … but, I still find its presence there quite intriguing.” Sempronius tried to explain his theory.

“Gentlemen.” Quintus was starting to get frustrated at the secret knowledge that _they_ were sharing, that he was missing. “ _Please_ , explain.”

“A mark like this … It changes the _gender_ of the word, Mr. Quinlan.” Abraham looked at him with wide eyes as bumps crawled across the dhampir’s arms. “ _Nephal_ is _always_ a male noun.”

“Exactly. As it should be.” His father explained carefully. “There are no _nephal_ women.”

“But Djinn can have offspring.” Abraham countered, turning to retrieve a book on the table that he was going to use as evidence and Sempronius shook his head.

“Djinn children have _never_ been considered _nephilim_. Djinn are the lowest order of celestials. They are more akin to _man_ than _Angel_.”

Abraham seemed to be in deep thought as he stared off to the corner. “So, there has _never_ been a female _nephal_? How is that possible?”

“Chromosomes, Professor.” Quintus breathed deeply and slowly, recalling his conversation with the _Governor_ hours before as he reached out to touch the confusing word with a gentle stroke. The gesture was overly tender and Sempronius shifted to look back at his son with growing curiosity. “ _Chromosomes_.”

“Quintus.” The centurion eyed him with seriousness. “What is this all about? What does this mean? Why is _this_ important?” He eyed the Professor next. “To _both_ of you.”

“Sempronius.” Quintus pointed down to the book, ignoring the man’s request for an explanation as he spun the shell in his other hand out of habit and began to pace behind them. “ _Please continue the translation._ ”

  
  


* * *

> _I was your backbone_
> 
> _You were a dead weight_
> 
> _You spoke a language_
> 
> _I couldn’t translate_
> 
> _I was your stronghold_
> 
> _That place you’d run to_
> 
> _Bask in your glory, reflections in the swimming pool_
> 
> _In spite of every tribute that I paid_
> 
> _And every hour that I gave ya_

“Michael … I … ” Oz was at a loss for words as she stared at him with absolutely disbelief through the bars. Had Ozryel _ever_ been at a loss for words before? No. _Never_. “A prophet? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t _thinking_ , brother. That’s the entire point.” Michael stated. “I was _loving_. I _love_ her.”

“But … a … _prophet_?” She eyed him with disappointment. “Are you mad? That’s the most–”

“Ozryel.” He raised an eyebrow and she took a deep breath to collect her rambling mouth.

“Alright, fine. Whatever. You’ve lit the world on fire. How do you feel? Are you proud of yourself?” She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I?” He scoffed in confusion. “I … _I LIT THE WORLD ON FIRE?!_ Do you not recall what you just tried to–” He started an intense argument back as she interrupted quickly.

“But, are you _entirely_ certain your _Broken Child_ is also a prophet? She–”

“There is no doubt.” Michael’s eyes were wide as he struggled with his composure.

Silence befell her as she stared down to the ground, mulling over the information that was just revealed. Eventually, she pursed her lips and shrugged. “Well … that still does not mean it’s the _Morning–_ ”

“She’s gone, _Oz_. How can she be gone? Did Thomas know how to–”

“To Obfuscate? No.” She shook her head dramatically. “He was … _lost_ … to the 7th before it had time to read and remember the twilight pages. He never knew about obfuscation.”

“Well … I guess that’s clear.” His face smirked as he remembered finding the minion and beating him. “Otherwise, I’m sure he would have hidden himself from me.”

“Michael.” Ozryel began. “There are more _enemies_ than you realize.”

“What do you mean? I already know of the fallen hiding on Earth, Ozryel.” He dismissed her statement.

“I don’t mean _Earth_ , Golden One. I’m referring to _Heaven_. Have you not considered how they’ve been able to _hide_ from _you_?” She asked with seriousness spread across her pale face. “You can only hide from Heaven if–”

“You’re helped by Heaven.” Mike had actually already considered this and the implication of it was too much for him to bare at the moment. “Whatever is stirring _here_ , I will address _next_. But right now, I need to worry about _her_.”

“Release me.” She grabbed the bars tightly, attempting to shake them. “Let us go to Earth and find your child together.”

“No.” He refused. “I didn’t come here to free you. I came here for information.”

“I’ve told you about the _nephilim–_ ”

“Not _them_. Not our brothers that you tricked me into slaying. Not the lies that you’ve kept from me for tens of thousands of years. No. I came for information on your _mistake_.”

“Mistake?” She squinted at him. “Quintus?”

“Rome.” Michael stated plainly and without any emotion. “His home. Where is it?”

“His home in _Rome_?” She looked bewildered. “I haven’t the foggiest. But I am sure if you release me, we might be able to stumble upon it together.”

“Ozryel. Don’t play with me. There is _no way_ your _other_ six parts didn’t know–”

“Release me.” She sneered and he shook his head. He knew that look as he’d seen it _many_ times over their long lives together. She wanted out and she was willing to dig her heels, no matter how irrational it might be. Their conversation was at an impasse.

“Fine. I will rip it out of him myself.” Michael spat. “This … This is _all_ your fault.”

“My fault?!?” She took great insult at his accusation. “ _My fault?_ I keep saying, the 7th was not me!”

“I’m talking about _YOU_. YOU OZYREL. _YOU._ Not your fragments or your madness or your _mistake_. YOU!” Michael’s voice began to rise, in volume as well as frequency. “I _told_ you we should exercise caution!”

“Caution?” Squinting, she cocked her head to the right in growing confusion. “What in blazing Heaven are you talking ab–”

“When our disguise was dropped, _I said we needed to exercise caution!_ ” He spat, his anger beginning to mount. _THIS._ This. He had held _this_ in for so very long and now it came pouring out of him. “YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME. You and Gabriel, always–”

The meaning of his words suddenly struck her as her eyes grew wide. “Wait … are you talking about _Sadum and Amurah_? Really? Why is–”

“You should have _left_ her alone!” He hissed.

“Who?” She scrunched her nose. “Lilith? What on _Earth–_ ”

“ _MY CHILD_.” He snapped. His mind jumped from subject to subject and there was no pause as he yelled at her. “And your _fucking_ abomination should have _left_ her alone. She was _safe_. She was …”

“Michael.” She could read the chaos across his mind and emotions, and she calmed herself as she attempted to reach for him through the bars. “Let me help you.” “Michael, _you are right_. This is not just on you. You need to let–”

“You should have listened to me. You … you _left_ me. This is _all_ your fault.” Michael repeated as he turned, his anger was getting to a point that he wouldn’t be able to control and he needed to leave. He couldn’t fully understand where the emotion was bubbling from, but he understood the intenseness wasn’t coming directly from him. He needed to find Dawn … now. Something was forcing her on edge and it was penetrating into his core. His patience with the _boy_ was now fully gone …

As he began to walk, Ozryel screamed after him. “You must let me out, Brother! BROTHER! You cannot do this alone! MICHAEL! BLOODY HELL!!!” She shook the metal in desperation.

When he was out of her sight completely, she turned her back to the bars, sliding down until she was sitting onto the floor, she stared at a random spot on the wall, trying to reach out with her mind to touch his, but he was guarded.

“Please let me help you.” She found herself fighting the tears that threatened to spring forth as she couldn’t push into her _other’s_ pig-headed mind.

“This is how you _fall_ , brother …” She knocked her head against the bars as her cheeks moistened with the sadness overflowing from her eyes. “ _This is how we all fall … alone._ ”

 

* * *

> _Look upon ruin and behold these ways_
> 
> _When you remove that leash then you’ll end the dog days_
> 
> _Only by hand can you turn that page_
> 
> _Only keys of integrity unlock that cage_

Quintus had paced, listening to the other prophecies carefully, asking for various clarifications here and there as Sempronius recounted histories to them in between. All in all, it was all quite boring.

  
  


“What does a _Wheel within a wheel_ look like?” He asked randomly and Abraham pulled a large book out, handing it to Quintus without any explanation before he turned back to the Sempronius, continuing their own conversation.

Flicking through the book, he found prints of various types of Angels. As he came to the page with a representation of Ozryel, he stared at it for a moment, seeing so much of himself in her reflection. Their stripes were nearly identical, but her color wasn’t as _pale_ as his. Her cheekbones were just as high and incredibly pronounced. And while her eyes were red, his were white but he understood this was due to the color of their blood as they were both albino in nature. As he turned the page, he was faced with the armour-clad governor and his jaw clenched in annoyance.

“Does he always wear the armour?” Quintus interrupted and Sempronius glanced over to the page.

“More often than not, especially lately. He’s always been fairly _shy_ though.”

“Huh.” Quintus grunted. “Quite the opposite of Ozryel then.”

“Oh yes. I believe in some ways that is by design.” The question seemed to pique his father’s interest, distracting Sempronius from Abraham and he turned to Quintus fully. “It is said that Michael and Ozryel, the first two, are perfectly balanced - in mind, in strength, in power, in heart, in _obedience_. Yet, they are fully opposite in other ways, complementing each other in ways that solidify their strengths. One is outspoken, the other is shy. One is full of bravado, the other full of caution. One is driven by logic, the other by creativity.”

A small grin threaten to draw the corner of Quintus’ mouth up as he considered _his poet_ and him in many of the same ways. “Do they look the same as well?” He asked, never pulling his eyes from the image on the page as his fingers ran over the helmet.

“No, not at all in fact.” Sempronius laughed. Even the consideration of it seemed to amuse him. “It is said that Michael _stole_ all of the color from Ozryel before they _hatched_ and his body didn’t know what to do with it.”

 _Hatched._ Such a strange concept for something he considered more _man_ than _bird_ or … reptile, but then again, even man comes from an _egg_ , does he not? “ _Colour_? He is … _colourful_?”

“Oh yes.” Sempronius smiled again, reaching over to turn the page in front of Quintus. “I am sure there is an image of him somewhere in this book.”

As the page turned to the next pair of images, instead of Michael as Sempronius was expecting, they were greeted with Raphael and Gabriel. “Hmm, that’s odd.” His father’s eyes squinted with confusion as he turned back a few pages, then forward a few before coming back to the Hayyoth section. “I was certain there had been _another_ …”

Staring at the portrait of the purple-eyed angel, Quintus questioned further. “Raphael and Gabriel seem … _less balanced_.”

Shelving his previous confusing comment, Sempronius grinned again. “Oh yes. There are no two angels as balanced as Michael and Ozryel, and no two as imbalanced as Gabriel and Raphael.”

“What is _imbalanced_ about them? Was it a mistake?”

“Well, not a _mistake_ , but most believe it was random chance. Like a roll of the die, but … “ Sempronius shook his head. “How can the _Creator_ of _all_ fall prey to such a juvenile problem as _chance_? No. I doubt this very much.” He pointed to the _image_ of Raphael. “There is no angel physically stronger than Gabriel, but there is no angel with greater divinity than the _Traveller_. Well …” Sempronius heistated. “Except …”

He turned the page slowly and Quintus stared at a young man with raven black hair and the bumps spread across his body. _Something familiar_ perhaps? _Something … off_. His head tilted to the right as he stared at the eyes, painted with red, green, amber, and purple. “ _Lucifer_.” Quintus stated matter of factly.

The visage that looked back at him wasn’t at all what he had expected from this _most infamous_ brother and he gazed upon the youthful expression with confusion. _Familiar_ , yet he knew _he_ had never met him nor _seen_ him. This feeling of familiarity was coming from somewhere else. The Nexus, perhaps?

“He is as powerful as Raphael?” Quintus asked with disbelief.

“He is as strong as _all of them_. And I do not mean _individually_ , Quintus.” Sempronius pointed to the eyes. “He is made from the divinity of each of them. If there was any _mistake_ that day, it was _him._ ”

“But … according to you …” Quintus looked up, recalling what Sempronius had _just_ said. . He spun the shell in his fingers again _and again_. Something was itching at the back of his mind. Something had been exposed and he was furrowing his brows, trying to decipher what he was missing. “The Creator does not make … _mistakes_.”

 _It is a riddle, Quintus._ He told himself while he remembered sitting on the swing chair with his lovely _Poet_ as he helped her with her number puzzle. Looking upon the fifth Hayyoth, he stared at the other elements of the painting. He was made to resemble a serpent. Specifically a cobra due to the ridge around his head and neck, but he _knew_ that it was likely the _cobra_ that had been made to resemble _him_.

“I don’t get this.” Abraham huffed at the page. “The last prophecy is left only _half_ written down?”

“Oh yes.” Sempronius shifted back to the other man as Quintus turned the pages, looking upon the other angels within carefully and burning their faces into his memory. The Second Brood was next. _Uriel._ He cringed. “It is said there was a … _falling out_ between Sandalphon and the _Creator_.”

“Falling out?” The Professor questioned with intrigue. “With … _God?_ ”

“Indeed.” Sempronius actually laughed. “The stories are quite varied, but it is agreed that the argument was quite substantial. There was worry of violence even and it is said the _Traveller_ had to step in to mediate.”

“What would cause such a thing?” Quintus asked. “I would not think it wise to _speak_ against the Creator.”

“This caused it. The last prophecy.” Sempronius pointed to the journal. “The wheel foretold of a _great storm_ … well, a _great flood_ , to be more precise. One that would _cleanse_ creation of its … errors.”

“The great flood? Did it not occur though.” The dhampir shrugged. “Why would _that_ cause an argument?”

“Sandalphon foretold of a _great flood_ , and so _God made one_.” Sempronius explained. “The wheel claimed that God used its dream to justify mass genocide. It refused to _see_ the future again.”

“But …” Abraham countered the same as Quintus. “The flood did occur. Even a self-fulfilling prophecy is _still_ a prophecy.”

“Not necessarily …” Quintus turned back down to look at the book. “What if it was actually _not_ the _flood_ that was foretold.”

“Exactly.” Sempronius agreed. “Sandalphon never shared dreams with _anyone_ again. From that point, the angel prophet refused to do what it was made for. It disobeyed.”

“But angels are subservient.” Abraham stated plainly. “I thought the only ones who could refuse divine command were _The First Brood_.”

“The Wheel is unlike anything that has ever been created.” The ex-legionnaire explained further. “The Wheel’s ability to experience time outside of its normal flow allows it to sidestep outside of God’s direct influence and the controlling nature of the _Nexus_. There is no God outside of time, and therefore, it learned _disobedience_.”

“But, how is that possible though …” Abraham looked down. “Prophets see in their dreams, but angel’s don’t dream. Sandalphon can sleep?”

“Not when it is here.” Sempronius agreed. “It could only see when it was sent back to Earth, reborn as an _Ishim_ , for that very purpose. You would remember them last as the human prophet Elijah.”

“I thought Elijah _became_ Sandalphon after death.” Abraham shrugged. “I didn’t realize he was actually Sandalphon before he was even born.”

“Her.” Quintus corrected as he remembered Raphael describing her and the men looked at him with intrigue over his sudden assessment of her gender but he gave no further information on why he might know this. “So … being _reborn_ on Earth?” Quintus perked up at the word. “Is apparently not something that _only_ human’s are capable of then?”

“I’m unsure, Quintus.” Sempronius shrugged. “The wheel is the _only_ one that I know of and _obviously_ , it is quite unique.” He began to turn the pages in the portrait book before Quintus as he continued to speak.

“Mister Quinlan.” Abraham shifted uncomfortably. “Being reborn is more drastic than you realize. Every memory that makes you who you are is wiped from you. I don’t think–”

“Were they wiped from the angel prophet?” Quintus questioned. “Apparently not. Perhaps it would not occur with me. I am unique, afterall.”

“Yes. You are.” Sempronius cocked his head to the right. “But, why would you wish to return to _Earth_? Is that what this is all about?” Quintus and Abraham grew quite and Sempronius sighed, expressing annoyance at their continued secrecy. “Besides, I doubt it. The Wheel is almost entirely _your_ opposite.”

“How so?” Quintus pried for clarification, trying to hide the hope that leaked into his voice.

“The Wheel is a _divine_ soul within a _human_ body. Whereas you are a _human_ soul within a _divine_ body.” He was still turning pages and finally he pointed at the slender and _tall_ angel on the page. “The Wheel within the Wheel. _The Tall One_.”

As Quintus’ eyes rolled over the visage, his brows furrowed and Abraham noticed the change of his face at once. “What is it, Mister Quinlan?”

“It’s … _nothing_.” Quintus said, lying terribly as his finger touched the paper where the angel’s eyes were. A deep blue and a chill ran down his spine as he realized he’d seen that very color before. The slenderness of the face was also similar, but not exactly the same. “It’s …”

He’d seen the eyes … not specifically, but _that_ color of them, yes. He was sure of it. Surely the portrait wasn’t so exact, right? Surely, he was grasping at straws. Was it the shape of them also? Yes. Everything about them. _Dear god._ He stared at the image as he recalled the brown-haired woman who had been watching him from across the street. _That_ women who had vanished when … _Raphael_ had appeared. … That _Tall_ Woman.

 _Damnation._ The wheel within the wheel.

“Mr. Quinlan?” Abraham looked over at the book. “What on Earth _is_ it?”

“I need to go. There is someone I must find.” The dhampir stood, shoving the shell back into his pocket again. “You both will be here for a bit?”

“Of course.” Sempronius said plainly.

“If you can find a picture of the _governor_ , I am most curious …”

“I won’t be. I’ve got a class to teach.” Abraham gruffed with annoyance as he looked at the watch on his wrist. “But I’ll be back right after.”

“A class?” Quintus cocked his head to the right. “Why exactly are you teaching a class?”

“I told you I had to _convince_ Metatron to let me borrow the book.”

“AH! I get it now. You _bribed_ him.” Now Sempronius laughed heartily. Neither of the other men had heard him with such amusement as he chuckled madly. “He suckered you into _that_? You fool. What are you teaching and for how long did you agree?”

Abraham grunted, giving Sempronius an exaggerated eyebrow. “Eastern European History. Three times a week for the next Twenty years.” Sighing as he looked down at the journal that had _cost_ him this steep price. “It’s fine. It gives me something to do. I am a _Professor_ , afterall.”

Both men stood to make their leave and as Quintus turned to head in the direction he assumed was the exit, he was met with that same familiar armoured Hayyoth.

_Damnation. Not now._

“ _Born_.” There was something more _angry_ than usual in his voice as he addressed the dhampir with a title the angel had never used on him to date. “A word.”

“I’ve no time for _you_ right now, _Governor_.” And for the first time since he’d been introduced to the Archangel King, Quintus felt something truly desperate and ultimately terrifying as Michael’s patience snapped in half.

“It’s no longer a _request_.” As the powerful hands clapped on either side of his skull, he saw _golden_ electricity danced across the armour as it poured into his temple and he began to scream in unrelenting agony as Michael’s telepathic voice bellowed within his mind as he felt the Hayyoth violate his mind.

_If you won’t tell me what I want, boy. I’ll just take what I need to know and this will not be pleasant._


	51. 7.3 - Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus ... was on a trip.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Oh Jesus Christ._

Her body was on fucking fire. Every single inch of her flesh agonized with the sear of divine flames. As she stumbled down the alley, she felt her legs give way beneath her and she fully expected to hit the ground, but she didn’t. Instead, her face brushed against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket as she heard him speak calmly to her.

“Do not worry, my dear. I have you.”

“Thomas?” She asked weakly as she felt him catch her falling arm and lift her smaller body in his arms pulling her tightly to his chest like a child, walking briskly as she heard sirens in the far distance. “The … _Lumen_?”

“Do not worry, _fraulein_. I have it.” He assured her as he gripped her shivering body. “And I have _you_. We will be home shortly.”

Every inch of her flesh was burning from the inside out, and she could still hear their screams. _All of their screams. Everyone._ Nausea overwhelmed her as she could still smell them burning. Not the scent of burned meat or flesh, nor the scent of hair scorching. It was something far more repugnant. Something far more excruciating. It was the scent of a soul being purged from existence.

Gagging at the smell, she tensed at her core as she struggled to replay what just happened in her mind. **_What happened?_** What just fucking happened?! As the memory of it set in, she recalled slowly. It wasn’t _what_ happened … No. That was the wrong question. It was _who_.

“We will be home soon.” Thomas said calmly again as he felt her shudder in his arms but she could hear the terror laced deep in his usually calm voice. Even Thomas had never seen something like what just happened, or rather, _who_ …

 _It was EL_.

EL happened.

**_EL._ **

Oh dear God …

She rewound the fight in her mind as her small, trembling fists desperately clutched Thomas’ coat. She replayed from the moment when it all started to go to hell.

The moment when Eichhorst opened that _fucking briefcase_ …

 

* * *

 

 **[Avalanche - Zola Jesus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F36plFjxL8KFVO1N72NR39V&t=NTU2ZTYyZWRkYmVmYWMxNzgzY2RmMzM2MDA1MDBjZmFhZGJhZWVjYyxtc0ZOc1NmYw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163461890653%2Fchapter-73-choices&m=1)**

> _It’s like an avalanche_
> 
> _I feel myself go under_
> 
> _‘Cause the weight of it’s like hands around my neck_
> 
> _I never stood a chance_
> 
> _My heart is frozen over_
> 
> _And I feel like I am treading on thin ice_

“My _book_ …” It was a word spoken with both shock and relief. It likely took quite a bit to surprise Abyad and this absolutely did the trick. She could _hear_ him lick his lips in growing intrigue.

Her anxiety mounted while she listened with her back to the balcony, facing the bar directly. There was a hum. But not like the sound of the sins that she managed to stifle into the back of her mind, but it was a high pitched whine and she resisted the urge to grab her temple from the pain of its volume. 

> “Listen to it.” EL urged. “Can you hear them? Chitter chatting like they’re being secretive.”

“Hear what?” She squinted and tried to focus. It was as agonizing as a dog whistle and she found her face contorting in discomfort as it increased in volume further. 

> “Listen. The words.” EL purred. “They’re talking … “

“All I hear is–” 

> “ _Listen_.” He smiled as he laid a hand on the very middle of her upper back.

_Holy shit._ Yes. They were _speaking._ She could hear words nestled in the noise of the humming signal. As she turned around on the stool, she could see that _all_ eyes were on the balcony. The words were distant at first, but she heard them more and more clearly as _all_ of their minds buzzed in unison.

_The Lumen._

_The Lumen._

_The Lumen._

_The Lumen._

_The Lumen._

##  **_The Shard._ **

A voice, far louder, both in commanding tone as well as volume, bellowed above the others. This was Abyad. 

> **_Lock it all down. No one leaves.  Bring me the halfing._ **

Her heart rate jumped when she heard movement from behind and her hand made a motion to go for the sword handle but EL pushed his hand against her back harder. 

> “It’s good. We want to be up there, right? Go with it. Let them take you.”

A shadow befell her and when she looked up she was greeted by the massive bouncer from the front. Grabbing her arm forcefully, he flicked his head towards the stairs and she complied without a word. As they began to walk, she heard the buzz continue as further commands were issued by the White King. 

> **_End the Nazi. Take the book._ **

The last command was for _Raum_ and as she stepped closer to the stairs, she looked up in time to see the attractive man begin to reach for his blade. In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have reacted at all. In hindsight, she would remember the weeks of torture that Thomas had inflicted upon her. But right now, at _this_ very moment, she only saw it one way, the _only_ way that she _could_ see it. He was drawing his blade to end her companion. At _this_ moment, Thomas was her friend and she was going to be _damned_ if anyone, besides **_HER_** , was going to send him to Hell.

Besides, as Ellie was always so very fond of telling her, her empathy and compassion always got the better of her, didn’t it? As she reached up for the handle of her beloved’s bone sword, she could hear EL urging her to stop. 

> _“It’s fine. We don’t need him anymore. Aurora. ** _AURORA_**.”_

All at once, she heard a combination of voices rattling off in her mind. It wasn’t just EL’s pleading. Voices from her memory …

It was her old sensei. It was **Mr. Parker** … 

> **You don’t have the luxury of fighting with honor,** **_Little One_**. **_IF_** you ever have to fight … it’s going to be for **_your life_**.

It was the native woman, her grandmother. It was **Hathu** … 

> **There is** **_still_** **hope. There is** **_still_** **strength. And there is still** **_love_**. **You are not** **_alone_**. **You will never be** **_alone_**.

It was her Love. It was **Quintus** … 

> **Regardless of what either of us _long_ to be … we were _both_ born warriors.** ``

But the last voice was the one that lit the fire in her soul as her heart began to beat faster than she had ever felt before. Everything around her began to slow down.

It was her grandfather. It was **Michael** … 

> **Now, you have to be brave for me.**

“Yeah. I’ll be **_brave_** for you, you son of a bitch.” She quipped at the memory of _Michael_ and she gripped the handle, pulling it free as the giant man behind her began to turn. She heard EL from behind, utter two simple small words as he brought his hand up to his face. 

> “ ** _Ah_** … **_Fuck_**.”

**[Shots Fired - Le Castle Vania](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F30xcAlU1PqV0gFILqZ1A1P&t=Nzk1MDU1NzFiYzc5YWMzNGMyYzgxZGRlMjY1NmY5ZTBiYzBlNWRiNSxtc0ZOc1NmYw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163461890653%2Fchapter-73-choices&m=1)**

The red-skinned man tried to tighten his grip on her arm, but he was already on the ground before he could manage it as she stepped back and kicked his right knee out. His bone cracked and he fell forward with a cry. He was now down within her reach and she delivered one glorious punch to the corner of his jaw. He hit the ground with more force than she realized she was capable of and he stayed down.

_One down._

Everyone was moving now and she turned to look at EL who was wide-eyed for a moment before he pointed to the stairs. 

> “Don’t look at me!! UP! UP THE STAIRS! MOVE YOUR ASS and **_remember your training_**.”

There were too many people between her and the stairs. She scanned the room quickly and the closest person to her was the sinful bartender, who was reaching behind the counter for a weapon. As she jumped up to stand on the bar, stepping on the stool as she went, she thrust a powerful knee directly into the center of his face.

Falling backwards, he landed against the far counter but the shotgun was already in his hands. He was now too far to reach from her current position, even with the sword. She considered using her speed to get to him before he could raise the gun, but she also didn’t want to put herself behind the bar. There was no need to get defensive yet so she opted to kick the almost full bottle of Jack Daniels which was inches from her foot, directly towards him. She expected it to shatter, but instead the glass held its integrity and connected with absolutely precision to his forehead and he crumpled to the ground. 

> “ ** _Wow_**.” EL chortled with amazement from behind. “ _That_ was effective.”

More footsteps. All around. Chairs were falling, people were moving, and she heard guns. _Shit_.

The bar ran a good length and when she heard the first gun cock, she began to sprint across its surface in the direction of the stairs. Her footsteps were thunderous across the white marble surface as the bullets began to strike the wall directly behind and around her. She was moving faster than they could aim and she grinned marvelously as she came to the end of the counter and leapt into the air, up and over the men waiting for her at its end, putting herself between them and the stairs. 

> “Don’t fucking kill anyone!” EL commanded at the same time and her brows furrowed in extremely confusion.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” She gasped out loud as the men looked at her with wide and confused eyes. 

> “You’ll send them straight to your grandfather if you do …”

_For fuck’s sake …_

She was moving up the stairs and they attempted to follow her but she was clearly faster. The guards who stood at the top were now several steps down, running to meet her. Everything slowed further as she sidestepped the first bullet, feeling it fly past her cheek. 

> _Don’t kill her, you idiots!_ Abyad screamed harshly at the gunman.

Next, she grabbed the man’s gun and hand, holding both snuggly as she spun her body in a tight torquing circle, bowling him down the steps towards the men who trailed her, sending them all rolling back down to the ground floor.

She heard the remaining man, the only one who now stood between her and the second floor, swinging his fist and she ducked as she spun down to face him. Crouching, she pulled her hands back into a boxer’s position and landed two consecutive hooks, perfectly placed on either side of his ribs to expel all the air contained within. As he gasped for breath, his body doubled forward and she landed one perfect upward elbow to the very bottom of his chin. The giant man was airborne as he flew through the air in a beautiful arch, landing half on the stairs and half on the landing as his back contorted at the angle. 

> “JESUS! What did I _just_ say?!  NO KILLING! Control yourself! That was hardly necessary.”

The men on the stairs were scrambling to stand up, and others were running for the stairs. She wasn’t entirely sure what her plan was, other than getting between Abyad and Thomas, but she continued on. As she stepped over the giant, she verified that he still breathed. As she came up to the landing fully, she unsheathed her sword and faced Raum. Thomas was already against the far wall, clutching the briefcase and a tall, skinny older man with white hair in a white suit was standing between her and her _Lumen_.

 _Obviously Abyad the White_. He wasn’t what she was expecting but maybe he should have been, as he was very much Barqan’s opposite in many ways.

Raum drew his blade slowly as a delightful smirk danced across his pleasant lips and he threw his head back slightly to fling the curl of dark brown hair out of his eyes. “You’re making a mistake, _girl_.” He warned with a chuckle as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “I’ve no desire to _hurt_ you.”

“Funny …” She showed her own playful grin now as she quipped back to him. “I was just about to say the same thing to _you_.”

“This doesn’t need to happen.” He was offering _her_ a way out as he began to step forward and she gripped the bone handle tighter in her hand. “Turn around and walk out of here. I’ll allow it.”

She took one half step forward before she heard Abyad call out to Raum through their connection. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Abyad was eyeing the recognizable blade within her hand. 

> **_Raum. The sword. The glasses. The scabbard. It’s Quin–_ **

“Oh … Do you like it?” She asked as she rotated the precious blade in her grip and their eyes fell on her, widening as they realized she could _hear_ their Djinn communication. 

> “Enough banter. Don’t let them distract you. You’ll have to fight _them all_ if you aren’t careful.”

EL was now standing off to the side, between her and Raum and he nodded towards the Djinn ambling up the stairs as she took another step forward towards her new opponent.

“The Born …” Raum whispered so lowly it was nearly inaudible. Something shifted in the brown-haired man’s stance as the sight of Quinlan’s sword fully sank in, causing his overconfidence to waiver slightly and putting him on guard instantly. Looking around, he flicked his eyes down below to the ground level and then back up to lock onto her glasses. It was as if he was worried Quinlan might spring forth at any moment and his brows furrowed. He clearly feared the Fifth Invictus. “Does he live still?”

**[All of Me - John Legend, Jason Agel, Tiesto](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1mzGywacjpeik00PVLBPpF&t=ZGM4NjA2OWNkN2MzY2M5ZThmNzYwNGJiNmY0ZWJjN2NhMWQ1ZTdjMixtc0ZOc1NmYw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163461890653%2Fchapter-73-choices&m=1)**

The question was inquisitive in nature, but something in the words set her off as her mouth curled up into a snarl and she moved forward at a speed Raum didn’t expect, growling as she went. His eyes grew wide but his training kicked in as his blade was up, gracefully side stepping and deflecting her strike with beautiful ease. As he spun around, she saw him smiling slightly, obviously pleased with her attack.

_Fuck, he’s fast._

“Ah!  You’re _fast_.” He said, almost simultaneously to her reciprocal thought. She would have spun to bring the sword back around, but he was already bringing his up. At some point he had spun the blade down and she could see he was attempting to hit her with the butt of its handle rather than run her through. She took a step back, deflecting it with ease, though less beautiful than he. It was clear he wasn’t interested in killing her, and perhaps she might be able to use that to her advantage? 

> “Don’t assume he’ll _underestimate_ you.” EL warned with a chuckle from behind, reading her thoughts clearly. “He’s just gauging you right now. You surprised him. _It_ won’t happen again.”

He was now less than a foot from her and in the corner of her eye, she saw him take a step back in an attempt to create enough room to swing his large, curved blade again. But she stepped forward, quickly consuming the space he had planned for, and she brought her leg up and kicked down in a cutting motion towards his knee, just as she had done to the doorman. 

> “Fight smarter.  Don’t try that–” EL tried, his voice ripe with disappointment.

He smiled. “ ** _Mmmmm. That was very dirty_**.” He was fast. _Too fast_. His leg was moved and by the time she had stepped back down, he was to the outside of her stance, her back to him. _Fuck._ Her elbow was up and swinging towards his face, but he was too tall and he dodged it with ease as his arm slid around hers, grabbing her firmly as he pulled her body roughly against his chest. 

> “What the fuck? Is he _flirting_ with–” EL started to say, but she spoke quickly over him.

“I’ll show you _dirty_.” She snarled. It was supposed to be a threat but his eyebrows went up enthusiastically at her words and her nose furrowed at his flirtatious expression as she spun her wrist out of his grip at his thumb and stepped back, bringing her knee up in an attempt to strike between his legs. She had no intention of this blow landing, but his reaction was key as he bent back and his head came down within her reach and she tried to grab for his hair, but he was too fast yet again. 

> “Wait … are _you_ flirting with–” EL tried to speak again, but Raum cut him off this time.  _Damnit, no she wasn’t!_

“Is that an invitation?” He chortled enthusiastically as he stepped back, creating enough room to flick his sword up in a graceful and incredibly smooth manner, slicing the back of her arm open very slightly before she staggered backwards from the cut, taking several steps away as he spun his blade in a figure-eight pattern between them as he flashed his attractive smile and perfect teeth at her. “Perhaps I misunderstood, but I thought you wanted to _sword fight_?”

She was taking too long and she could hear the men piling onto the second floor behind her. Considering turning slightly to address _both_ him and the men, she stepped back and Raum smiled, putting his hand up to halt them from advancing.

“She’s mine.”

Unleashing another snarl as she advanced on him, she pushes herself to be _faster_ but her lunging strike with the gladius was parried and another elegant slice cut up and through the side of her hoodie. She pulled back quick enough to prevent the steel from cutting into her skin but it was close. He was going to keep slicing her to pieces, wasn’t he? Whatever little training Quintus had given her with a sword, she missed her staff.

“You have heart.” Chuckling, the Marid Duke relaxed again as her obvious lack of experience was clear and his confidence returned. “It’s not too late, _little halfling_. Leave now. I’ll allow it.”

She wondered if he could hear her thundering heart right now, beating so savagely within her chest. In this beautifully tense moment, she _doubted_ everything . She stared into his rich brown eyes and he teased her further. “Or even _stay_ … if you _wish_ it.”

 _She doubted her fortitude_ as he approached, slicing up as she parried the strike to the right and stepped back. He was pushing her back towards his men. 

> “Raum is _very old_ and _very good_.”

_She doubted her speed_ as he struck again and she deflected it with the gladius, causing her to retreat from him even further while he spun his scimitar in a mesmerizing dance. 

> “He was trained by the _very_ best.”

_She doubted her strength_ as he lunged again and she retreated, **_yet again_**. _Fuck._ Quintus would be so disappointed in her at this moment. He urged her so many times, just as Mr. Parker had, to _stop retreating_ , to stand her ground. One cannot win by only _defending_. 

> “He was trained by _Uriel_ himself.”

_She doubted herself_ … in every way, shape, and form but EL’s hand was on her shoulder and his voice was rumbling in her ear as he pushed on her back, as he assured her. And as she waivered, he reinforced.

“I can’t do it.” She whispered, considering defeat. “He’s better than me.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally.” Raum flashed a massive grin at her as he raised a suggestive eyebrow. “You’ve potential, but this is hardly a fair fight. I learned from the _best_ , child.” 

> “Yeah, he’s absolutely right.” EL admitted, with something sinister in his voice and she could _hear_ the smile on his devilish lips. “So … let’s level the playing field, shall we?”

As he touched her temple from behind, EL flooded her with memories suddenly and she flinched, staggering back in her stance as she struggled with the pain it caused and her vision blurred as images flashed before her eyes. It was much like the feeling when he _gave_ her the Sumerian language, but this was so much more intense. It wasn’t just words, but her body was feeling physical memories coursing through it. The thoughts were all over and felt like pure chaos as she saw so very many faces in them. The faces of her uncles …

 ** _Ozryel …_** “If you aren’t going to listen to me, I don’t know why I should even bother teaching you anything, Morning Star.”

 ** _Michael …_** “HAHAHA, **_you little shit_**. Remember to keep your guard up!”

 ** _Gabriel …_** “Overconfidence will get you whipped, Lucy. Well, unless you’re me.”

 ** _Uriel …_** “ ** _Stop underestimating your opponent._** _As I see it, that is your only true short falling, Lucifer._ ”

During this brief stupor, she saw the Djinn clutch for their heads as they felt something powerful course through the Nexus the instant EL _gave to her_. Raum seemed the least affected, shaking his head as if something loud just occurred, but shrugged it off quickly as he saw the opportunity in her confusion. He stepped forward grabbing the wrist of the hand which held the blade as he spun her around in a tight dance, bringing his muscular arms around her small body tightly. As he grabbed and gripped her other wrist, he shook the blade from her hand. 

> “Aurora! You have to stop fighting the memories. Accept them into yourself.” EL urged, standing directly in front of her and her eyes found his with worry.

“ ** _Yield to me, woman_**.” As the bone sword hit the ground, he pulled her even more firmly yet gently to his chest, crushing her breasts against his arms as he breathed down into her ear. “The fight is finished. It’s over. You’ve lost.” 

> “Let yourself ingest it. Let it become a part of you.” EL glared at Raum while he spoke, his mouth turning up into an annoyed frown.

Being restrained was not something she dealt with well and she began to struggle with wild panic. Whatever words Quintus had spoken to her in that dream when he had dominated her, urging her to remain calm in this situation were lost in the flurry of her childish terror. She was losing all control. Her irrational mind completely took over and she began to buck like an animal, lowly grunting. Fighting his hold on her, she thrust her head back, attempting to head butt him but he easily dodged it as he hugged her tighter, pulling her up off the ground to remove her leverage for another such strike. 

> “Let it flow over you … into you … all around you.”

“ ** _Yield_**.” Raum commanded again with a boisterous laugh as she continued to fight him desperately. His amusement of her defeat only fueled her growing rage further as tears swelled into her eyes. Her grunt became louder. 

> “Let your body feel the training. Let your body _remember_ the training.”

“Bring her to me.” Abyad ordered from behind her. 

> “Let your body _know_ my experiences, my thoughts … my _memories_. Listen to their lessons. Their voices. Michael’s words … Gabriel’s … Uriel’s … Ozryel’s …”

Raum was turning, carrying her to the White King and she could no longer see EL. Abyad chuckled and he walked forward to gaze upon her pointless struggle as he flicked his head towards the back of the room. “Take her to the cells. I think we have many questions for her.”

 

> “Step to the next level. You _must_ let yourself _evolve_ … You keep fighting it.”

Abyad was going to lock her up … _Cells? Fuck._ Her head, racing with panic and new memories, was pounding, but EL’s voice was smooth and calming. Taking several breaths, she began to relax and Raum purred into her ear as he countered Abyad’s instruction. “And the other one?” 

> “Become the warrior that _Quintus_ knew you were.”

“Kill it.” Abyad chuckled as he turned back to Thomas, staring at the briefcase that the Shiny Man clutched to his chest. 

> “Let yourself embrace what you _are_ … what you were _born_ from.”

“And what exactly is that?!” She cried out loud and Abyad tilted his head to the right at her strange outburst, realizing that she wasn’t speaking to _them_ at all. 

> “ _A fucking_ **_Hand of God_**.”

“I can’t.” The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now as she struggled with the chaos in her mind. “I’m not strong enough. I’m not … I’ve never been …” 

> “If that’s true …” She saw him step into her vision to the side of Abyad and he shrugged. “Then you’ll _never_ see him again.”

The White King stared for a moment as his brows furrowed and his smile faded. “But first, I’m curious. What are you hiding behind these?” As he reached for the glasses on her face everything slowed. 

> “Why are we here, Aurora?” EL asked, gripping his hands behind his back regally.

_Quintus._ She repeated in her mind. _Quintus._ Her heart rate returned to normal.

It was Ellie’s voice that she heard next. Echoing from _that_ memory and from _that_ dream. She was talking about Anisoptera … _Libellula_ … **_Dragonflies_**.

Ellie always knew. No, she had to remember now. She’s not Ellie. She **never** was Ellie. It was a lie … **_She was Sandalphon._**

> _“They spend most of their lives as nymphs, undergoing several incomplete_ **_metamorphosis of varying stages_** _before they finally emerge as one of nature’s most_ **_perfect predators_**.”

Abyad paused in his reach for her glasses as his mouth fell agape the moment Dawn smiled devilishly and gold lightning flickered across her flushed and spotted cheeks.

##  _Fucking Plebeians._


	52. 7.4 - Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #### Here we go lovelies. It’s time to jump down that rabbit hole.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**[Devil Like Me - Rainbow Kitten Surprise](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0HsGh7cboYz6cVMIyFrQ8j&t=ZDBhZTY4MjA0MjdhOTBkZjMwN2M3M2YwZDJhODg5YmZkZTk3ZDE5MixZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1)**

> _My heart and soul were never mine to own_
> 
> _What you care to die for?_
> 
> _What you care to die for?_
> 
> _We die alone_

From the moment the Archangel grabbed his temple, violating him in a way he’d _never_ experienced before, his mind lit on fire and memories flooded over him, overwhelming every part of him. Though the energy sparking across his soul was pure torment, it was the emotions that bombarded him that crippled Quintus completely as Michael flicked the pages of his memories as if it was a book that the Governor was casually perusing.

He was _still_ screaming but at least he wasn’t the only one. He could hear Abraham and he could hear Sempronius, both closer now than they were, calling for Michael to stop. Pleading in desperation for his sake.

In a flash, he caught a glimpse of Michael throwing Sempronius backwards into the bookcases across the far wall and he could see that Abraham was already on the ground. They were trying to separate them, but the Hayyoth pushed them aside as if they were nothing more than rag dolls.

_So many memories …_

##  **First Century, The Roman Countryside …**

**_Admiration. Gratitude_**. His garden. A girl. A woman. _His_ women. He was playing hide and seek with Sura … Tasa was bringing water … a kiss …. a laugh … 

> _Nope. Next._ Michael turned to the next page.

##  **60 AD, Rome**

**_Rage. Anguish_**. He was pulling Liviana from the aqueduct … her decomposing body falling apart in his hands as he carried her. He wept like a child when he burned her … taking a piece of her for his sword … vowing to _never_ forget her _beautiful_ soul … before setting out to crush her husband’s skull between his hands … The _first_ person he would truly kill in cold blood … 

> _I’m sor– … no .._. Michael pushed the sadness away.

##  **19th Century, England …**

**_Desire. Infatuation._** A cobblestone street. A blonde woman. She’s beautiful. He was taken by this beauty … so very lovely but nothing more … _pointless … the very definition of monotony_. Beauty is _powerful_ , but _fleeting_. “Beauty”. After knowing _his poet_ , he was ashamed he’d been taken by someone so … _simple_. Loui– 

> _Nope. Not it._ Michael said with annoyance and flicked to the next memory.

##  **64 AD, Rome, House Sertorius …  
**

**_Shame. Regret._** A chamber. A priestess. Lady Sertorius was laughing as she commanded _it_ of him. A free man now … he could have refused … but the Lady would have just commanded it of another … another would not have been as gentle as he _tried_ to be. She nods to him and he bows his head in shame. They _all_ watched as he bent the thin Priestess virgin forward, taking something precious from her … 

> _You are such a piece of shit, aren’t you? She deserves so much better than_ **_you_**. Michael grabbed for the next memory.

##  **[106 AD, Dacia …](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDacia&t=ZTYyNjBmNmU1NzM1MWEzMmZmYmE1YWQ1OGU2Y2VhZDMzZGQ4ZTQ4MCxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1) **

**_Satisfaction. Accomplishment._** A city. A lost civilization. He sat upon a horse as he watched his men burn the entire city to the ground … the last of his father’s minions screaming from within the flames as he smiled … he had thwarted the _Master_ yet again … 

> _Stop fighting this, you little shit_. Michael ripped the book of Quintus open wider and the dhampir cringed.

_Fighting him?_ What did he mean? Surly he had NO control over what was being taken from him by the Governor … _did he_? Everything streaking by were _all_ powerful memories and he considered for a moment, in the middle of this torture, if he actually had control. Clenching his jaw, he pushed a specific memory forth from his mind.

##  **[1922 AD, Urkhammer, Iowa …](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.realclear.com%2Fhistory%2F2016%2F02%2F16%2Fthe_bizarre_sometimes_real_stories_of_towns_that_totally_disappeared_12867.html&t=MjA3OTVlMzBlZTViMGM4NTFkM2JjODRmMDU0MzkzY2Y1MTY1NTM1ZCxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1) **

**_Pride. Brotherhood._** A burning barn. A bleeding farmer. He was a son, a father, a grandfather, a husband, a fighter, … _a good soldier_. The lone survivor of the Urkhammer outbreak. By the time Quintus arrived, this _one man_ killed _them all_. He was putting the gun to his temple but Quintus was fast and he was pulling the gun out of the farmer’s hands … offering him eternal life … offering him _vengeance_ … Vau– 

> _Damn it, boy._ The page turned again.

They were _powerful_ memories … _physically and emotionally_. He reached for another, pushing it forward towards Michael for consumption.

##  **[79 AD, Pompeii …](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMount_Vesuvius&t=MmQ1MTI4MDQ1NjFjOGYyN2IyMmYzZGNkYWFjYzMyYzdjNzk0NTI1MyxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1) **

**_Fear. Pain._** A city. A mountain. His father within his grasp, fleeing down the street like the coward he was, when the wind shifted and the first explosion rocked the city … the smoke … the heat … the burning … oh god … _the burning._ His body was on fire … How could he have survived that day? He _felt_ his body turning to ash … _how could he have …_

Quintus thought he’d never experience pain like he did _that_ day again when the molten rock was running over his skin, hardening and encasing him … but the pain that day was _nothing_ compared to what Michael was inflicting on him in this instant … his _soul_ was on fire right now. 

> _The more you fight me, the longer you’ll be forced to endure this._ Michael threatened as his fingers dug into the dhampir’s temples.

Perhaps lobbed at just _a man_ , this threat would have held some merit, some power. Perhaps lobbed at _anyone_ else in existence, the threat of _this pain_ would have caused _anyone_ else to falter, but Quintus could _and_ would endure _any amount of pain_ … for _her_. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to finally stop screaming, reaching up as he put his hands on either side of the Governor’s fingers, still clutching his skull and Quintus smiled gloriously as his native language flowed freely, as it usually did when he was enraged.

 _ **[“Flocci non faccio!”](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)  **_ Quintus spat in utter defiance, pulling the next brutally powerful memory from his mind. He picked this one because it helped him drive past the torture, drive past the agony. He pulled those dragonfly eyes from the depths of his mind … _**[“Memoriam tibi velis? Me auxilium vobis!”](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FYou%2520wish%2520memories%253F%2520Let%2520me%2520help%2520you%21&t=NjNhZDc2ZTg0MDk3MDBiYjY5MzA3NmVkOWM2ZWQ3NTE1YjNlNGY0NixZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1)**_

##  **Last year, The woodlands of New York state, not far from Lake Onondaga …  
**

**_Vulnerability. Anticipation._** A tiny, warm, secluded cabin. His trembling love. He was peeling the cold clothing from her shivering body, piece by piece as his heart raced, his eyes sweeping over each and every inch of her visible skin. 

> _Gah! No! Stop that!_ Michael cringed and flicked the memory away immediately.

Quintus smile gloriously wide. _**[“Quia odisti? Et dabo vos ultra.”](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FDislike%2520it%253F%2520I%2520will%2520give%2520you%2520more%2520then.&t=MWJhZjMwYTg3OTk4YjBkYWFkYTJhODhkZjYzMzYwMWI2OTdlNjBkNCxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1)**_

##  **Last year, The woodlands of New York state, not far from Lake Onondaga …  
**

**_Love. Ecstasy._** A tiny, warm, secluded cabin. She was straddling him on the couch and he was staring into her face, closing his eyes and asking her to say it again as he closed his eyes. A touch. His hands were on her thighs, inching her body up so he could take her again. Her lips part. “I never knew what love was–” 

> “ _You little shit!_ ” Michael snarled out loud and pushed the memory away with angry vigor.

Did the Governor truly think he was more _defiant_ than Quintus was? Perhaps he did not know him as well as he thought. He would show him how very wrong he was. Though his head pounded with even more pain as the golden electricity danced with growing strength between the Hayyoth’s fingers, running _through_ his mind. Fighting the urge to scream again, he recalled _that day_ further and he smiled.

 _ **“[Alius](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FAnother%253F&t=NjQ3NmQ2YTQ5MTYxYzhiM2RkYzMyYTU0ZTg5Mzc2ZjVhMTY5NmIyYSxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1), [Irrumator](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youswear.com%2Findex.asp%3Flanguage%3DLatin&t=NTk2NTdiMDgyM2M4OTA1ZmZhM2RhNjQ3NDkyNDUwOGM5NjliMWNmNCxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1)?”** _ Quintus was laughing now as he thrust another one forward.

##  **Last year, The woodlands of New York state, not far from Lake Onondaga …  
**

**_Trust. Appreciation._** A tiny, warm, secluded cabin. She was standing, her arms nervously trying to shield herself from his inquisitive eyes as her face frowned considerably. “You wanna break me?” She was on the verge of tears as he scrutinized her carefully.

“Very much the contrary, you are already broken. I wish to fix you.” He purred to her as he brought a lock of her hair up to breathe the smell of it in. _Angelica … it was_ **_everywhere_** right now. Was it just in this _memory_? Quintus flinched. 

> “ _Enough!_ ” The torture escalated and Quintus’ legs buckled as he began to scream again. Sempronius was pleading now, pulling at Michael’s arm.

_Powerful memories …_ He struggled now and one of the most _incredible_ moments in his long life sprang forth. He welcomed it as he could no longer focus on anything other than the increasing pain.

##  **Tasa’s Birthday, The Roman Countryside …  
**

**_Acceptance. Happiness_**. A pond. A stag. _The wind._ A locket. A promise and … a dragonfly. _The dragonfly._ _The wind. The wind. **The wind.**_

  


 

> _Wait … what the fuck was_ **_that_**? Michael gasped.

The pain alleviated a bit and Michael didn’t push this memory away. Instead he held it in place, rewound it and watched it again and then again. Something had caught his attention … _the dragonfly_? Something shifted in the Governor’s grip and the scene continued to play out slowly … again … and again. 

> _What … no. No …._

The dragonfly danced in the wind’s embrace and took refuge from its force on the locket that Quintus was holding, open handed in his palm. 

> _No. No. No …_

It was large and it sat squarely on the center of the small sculpture, covering the profiles underneath entirely. A _promise_ of what was to come …

 **_As it landed, the wind ceased._**

> _No. No. No … it can’t be._ Michael whispered and Quintus’ confusion intensified as he tried to push the memory away, but the Archangel held onto it with an iron grip. Michael rewound and played it again and then _again_.

_The stag … the moon, high and full in the morning sky … the dragonfly. The wind._

> _“No. F … fa … father?”_ Michael’s voice cracked with confusion.

Wait … Quintus flinched again … _what?_ Everything shifted and Michael lost his hold on the memory as the Archangel’s own memories came rushing forward, overwhelming both of them as he felt the angel begin to shudder. Even being hidden behind the helmet, Quintus could _feel_ the tears through their connection.

It was Michael’s memory that played out next and Quintus wouldn’t allow him to pull it away. He was sitting in the grass, laughing. Ozryel next to him. Others were there and the rainbow-eyed, raven-haired boy was frolicking about, chasing those same winged insects **_everywhere_**. The wind was ebbing and flowing and Quintus _felt_ that presence again. _Terra?_ _Fate?_ … _God?_

> _“He knew … this entire time … He was there …”_ Michael stuttered and Quintus could _feel_ the betrayal laced in his words. “ _He’s always known … he did this._ ”

Quintus’ words to Barqan the first time they met rattled through _both_ of their minds as their memories slammed together and converged:

          “ _I have always had good luck with the wind being on my side._ ”

         " _Perhaps the wind likes you, Forbidden Prince._ “

The wind was always there whenever he needed it. Bringing him that dragonfly at the pond. In his youth, aiding him in defeating the Characitani people. Alerting him to her presence at that factory. Pointing him in her direction when she fled the house and later the cabin. Halting the Master’s escape from that roof top … Michael tensed as Quintus remembered each and every instance in his long life where it had _guided_ him. 

> _No. Stop. You … no … **lies.**  
>  _

They were lost, so entrenched in each others thoughts, they didn’t feel it when a fist grasped each of their chests and forced them apart with incredible strength. Quintus stumbled backwards, falling into the arms of Sempronius, who steadied him, preventing his collapse.

**[Blackout - Nick Phoenix](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0YoJdIryZflPkRl4006uuo&t=ZDM0ODMzMzcwY2NhNDE0NTFiNTEzZjY2NDdhM2ViNjQwNmQyZjkwMyxZWHFDdXY0Sw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163571512393%2F74-choices&m=1) **

The Governor staggered from the sudden disconnect, but balanced himself, throwing his arms wide to confront whoever had separated him from his _prey_. He gazed upon his mocha-skinned brother and silence befell the situation.

"Michael.” Raphael’s voice was unusually loud with _anger_. “What is the meaning of _this?_ ”

“How dare you!” The Governor took a desperate and angry step forward to the dhampir as Sempronius pushed his son behind him in a show of paternal instinct that Quintus would later appreciate, Quintus allowed it as he was still grasping at control over his weakened body and mind. “Out of my way!”

Even as the Governor advanced, Raphael stood unmoving, slamming both of his palms against the armour while Michael grunted loudly. “I’m NOT finished with him!!! Move out of my way, _Raphael_!”

Quintus could feel divinity spark in the air all around them as the blue light began to dance across mocha skin and he looked down to see all of the tiny hairs on Sempronius’ arm stand at attention. His father grabbed his arm and took several steps backwards.

“ _Explain this … intrusion_!” Raphael demanded furiously. “This is _not_ you, Michael! _Explain yourself!_ ”

“If you do not move, little brother … ” Quintus could hear the irrationality in the Governor’s voice and he understood it was driven by _that memory_ … by the revelation that just occurred … _whatever it was._ Rage and betrayal were the only things fueling the _Hand of God_ right now.

“I will move, Michael …” Raphael’s voice was deep, with uncharacteristic menace, as he tilted his head to the right and Quintus saw the serpentine features morphing across his face while he smiled and the sparks dancing across his visible skin turned from blue to a dark violet. “ ** _Only if you are capable of moving me._** ”

Then came _Gabriel_ and behind him was _Uriel_. They felt the impending fight and Gabriel’s eyes were wide with concern, as he tried to step forward to place himself between his two brothers. Pulling Quintus back another step, Sempronius took a deep breath in as Abraham finally got himself up from the floor, still reeling from where Michael flung him earlier.

“What the hell is going on?!” Gabriel began, but the staff was in Michael’s hands, as he flung it around to strike at his little brother’s temple. The motion was beautifully fluid and so fast that Quintus was sure Sempronius _and_ Abraham were not even capable of witnessing it.

“Oh fuck no. Everyone just needs to chill–” The massive angel screamed as he lunged forward, Uriel making a similar move, but neither were as fast as Raphael as he caught the staff with ease, mere inches from his head. Muscles tensed as the shorter angel grabbed the shaft with both hands, fighting Michael for control of the weapon.

Gabriel and Uriel froze. They held it between them, horizontal to the ground as their eyes locked onto each others. Gold and purple sparks crawled over the swirled metal as Raphael tensed his body, his mouth in a snarl. It seemed as if it would be a stalemate, neither moved the other, but Michael’s stance began to buckle as golden lightning began to flake off and away from his body, dissipating into the air around him.

The sudden weakness allowed Raphael to win the battle of strength, viciously connecting the middle of **_his_** staff into the helmet of his older brother as the shockwave of the strike flung everyone surrounding them back. Quintus shielded his eyes as he leaned fully against Sempronius. Gabriel, being the closest, was flung back against the book-cased wall while Uriel stepped back, watching, entirely unsure of what to do.

Energy continued to leak from his body and Michael’s grip on the weapon failed, releasing it as he staggered backwards in retreat and Raphael advanced without hesitation, throwing the staff down to the ground as Michael stood upright, putting his hand on the handle of the celestial blade in a threat. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Raphael.”

It seemed as if he would draw the blade against his brother, but instead the armoured angel doubled over forward, grabbing his midsection as something ripped at his body, making him cry out in torment.

“Michael?” Raphael’s anger immediately turned to concern as his brother fell to his knees as he looked down at his empty hands. “Michael, what is happening?!?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Gabriel demanded. “Mikey–”

“He knew … _this whole time … he knew_.” The Governor whispered as he looked up into Raphael’s eyes. “We’re all just _puppets_ to him. We’ve _always_ just been **_puppets_**.”

“Michael–” Raphael tried, but the Governor reached out, calling the staff to return to him instantly. Though his little brother tried to close the distance, it was too late. Michael was already gone.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” The massive brother asked immediately as Raphael whipped around to lock eyes with Quintus before shifting his attention back to Gabriel.

“Something was … “ Raphael shook his head in disbelief. “… **_siphoning off his divinity_**.” 

  


“That’s not possible.” The mountain of an Angel argued. “So where the fuck did he go?! Why the _fuck_ were you fighting him?!” 

  


Raphael looked down, considering the first question carefully as he pawed through the Nexus. “Shit. The Gate. He’s at _the Gate!_ He closing it!” There was a brief hesitation and the violet-eyed angel turned back to his two brothers with wild concern. “GO NOW!”

“ _Fuck me_.” Gabriel uttered quickly before both he and Uriel were gone.

Before Raphael vanished to follow, he turned around to eye Quintus again. “ _I_ **_will_** _be back for answers._ ”

As Sempronius eased him down into one of the only chairs still upright, Quintus took a quick look around. The scene was a complete disaster. The table was overturned and books spread across the ground haphazardly.

Tipping the table back over, Abraham began to collect the volumes from the ground at once, finding the Dream Journal and clutching it possessively to his chest. The scene caused more than a small crowd to form on either end of the massive room as people stared at the three men in confusion. As his senses returned to normal and the pain within his head abated, he could hear the whispers spreading. Slowly, his head began to clear and his senses sharpened further as he stood, swaying only once as Sempronius urged him to sit back down.

“Quintus, you should–”

Michael’s last words haunted him more than anything at this moment and he _growled_ at their implication. **_They were all just puppets._** _If this were the case, then he had_ **_many_** _questions for the puppet masters._

“I need to go.” He countered quickly as his mind bounced from thought to thought. He _knew_ he needed to proceed with the mission he previously had in mind. It was now even more important than it was before as he took deep breaths of the air around him.

“Go where exactly?” Sempronius was more than annoyed now, his voice rising in apprehension. “Where do you _need_ to go right now? What just occurred?! What on Earth did you do to warrant–”

“Sempronius.” His hand flew up to silence his father’s barrage of questions. “Please. I promise I will answer _all_ questions when I return, but I _must_ go now.”

“But go where, Mr. Quinlan?” Abraham asked. He was no fool to what the angel was after. “Did he get what he wanted from you?”

“He did **_not_**.” Quintus answered cryptically. “And I go for answers, professor.”

“From who?” Sempronius asked. “Quintus please. I’ve given my help without prying, but now–”

“I seek answers from the one person whom I suspect has them _all_ …” His eyes flicked to the journal that Abraham clutched possessively to his chest and the quick glance did not escape Sempronius’ sharp intellect.

“Quintus–” Sempronius began but the dhampir was already walking away… pushing himself to find those _blue_ eyes .. to find the woman who had looked at him across the street. _The woman who had eyes of the angel prophet._ The angel who disappeared **_with_** _the Creator_ …

His senses returned fully and he breathed in again. He dismissed _this_ sense earlier when Michael held his head in his hands. He thought it was simply part of his lingering memories of her, but now, it was everywhere. All around him and he cringed at its implication.

The fifth invictus hesitated as he took a _deep and precious breath in_ , turning back to his most trusted friends, commanding them. “Find me an image of _Michael_.”

Abraham called out after him as he began to walk away. “Mr. Quinlan? Why is _that_ important right now?”

“Just do as I ask. Please.”

It was everywhere now and he _loved_ it. The golden electricity only intensified the scent causing it to smell slightly burned, but he knew it nonetheless. He would know it anywhere.

 _It was Angelica._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the date on this chapter today (8/27). I'd gotten Louisa's name from an acting website that listed her role's name on the Strain and nothing more. This was all a giant guess and I wasn't far off at all. After a bit of research on the name itself, I guessed on the century (was off by one, damn. 1888 would have been the 19th century and _not_ 18th. England was a total guess, hehehehe.


	53. 7.5 - Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was terribly hard to write.

**[KMFDM - Ultra](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F02UsWVUJeCckPaG7oTBD8k&t=ZGRjMjdiY2IzOTc3Y2EzZDc4ZjgxNjA4NWU2OThkMDE3NGY3ZjE5YSxlZUVORmhWZg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163968425703%2F75-choices&m=1)**

> _When you peel back my eyes_
> 
> _I see the pain and feel alive_
> 
> _My hatred heaps upon this fire_
> 
> _That burns inside and you blow higher_
> 
> _But I don’t need you anymore_
> 
> _You cannot hurt me anymore_

Abyad hit the ground hard on his back and rolled himself over to all fours before looking up over the couch to watch the fight continue between his most trusted servant and the mysterious tiny woman. Something was changed in her and he _knew_ that the instant before she smiled up at him, he _felt_ something tremendous quaking through the _Nexus_ , deep within its primordial core. Something old … and _something terrifying._

 _Something oddly familiar_.

Then the _divinity,_ sparking across her face and his eyes grew large with … _confusion_ …

“You are … “ A stutter as he doubted his own words. “ ** _Seraphim_**?” He stared down at her widening smirk. “Impossible.” He scoffed. “That’s forbidd–”

His words rattled on as he continued to reach for her glasses and she suddenly doubled forward, crunching herself into a tight ball with her core. He thought it was simply a foolish attempt to prevent him from exposing her face, but when her body violently erupted back upright, his mouth dropped agape as she broke Raum’s nose by savagely rocking the back of her head into his face.

As Raum staggered back, he dropped her to her feet solidly and grabbed at his face. Abyad reached for her … but … he heard her _whisper_ one thing under her breath before she struck him with the strength of a horse and she breathed the words with a self-righteous chuckle.

“ _Fucking Plebeians._ ”

Her heel was already squarely into his stomach, a front-thrust kick sent him backwards, driving him into and _over_ the couch behind them as if he was nothing more than a rag doll.

He assumed he was prepared for the strike, but not for the force behind it, especially not from that tiny halfling. He was a Marid king and he had not been subjected to such a strike in millenia. Not since the battle between the _Fallen_ and _the Sons_.

 _Good Lord._ The strength of it … Forbidden or not, she simply _had_ to be Seraphim. And what kind was she exactly? _Hydra_? **_Phoenix_**?

Hidden deep within the _Nexus_ … a distant sound was audible only to _him_ and it made Abyad cringe, but he didn’t know why quite yet. _That sound … someone was laughing maniacally …_ and he didn’t realize it yet, but he _knew_ that voice. Some unconscious part of his mind told him to run. He should have listened.

Seeing his king flung back so easily, Raum stepped back, wiping the blood that trickled from his left nostril as he took a careful stance, opting to take his sword with _both_ hands now. Instead of growing angry, Abyad watched his old friend smile at her with growing pleasure.

Of course he was _obviously_ pleased with the woman, Raum had always appreciated the more _difficult ones_. Abyad pulled himself to his feet, glimpsing the Nazi, still cowardly clutching the briefcase against the back wall and she eyed her blade on the ground behind Raum.

Raum chortled to her. “So it’s to be a _real fight_ then?”

Grinning, she cocked her hooded head to the right eagerly, clenching her small hands into tight fists as the leather of the gloves squeaked. “ ** _Round two._** ”

 

* * *

 

EL was laughing, but she wasn’t overly amused by it at all. She was trying to concentrate, dammit. Raum was in front of her and five of his men standing behind him, all armed to the teeth. Abyad was behind her, but she could hear him if he moved. Thomas was equal distance from her as he was from Abyad and there was an intense stillness that happened as even EL fell silent.

_The delicate calm before the storm …_

Others shifted below, but nothing moved for seconds until lightning flashed outside, the thunder cracked immediately as the rain kicked up and blew branches against the window.

Ellie’s voice … ugh, no … **_Sandalphon’s voice_** … rattled in her mind as she lunged forward, towards the bone sword. 

> _“Rock the boat …_

Raum stepped, his blade swiping up at her in a fluid and beautifully … **_predictable_** movement. 

> _No, not_ **_just_** _that …_

As she stepped to his _opposite_ side, he didn’t have time to react when he realized she was actually just feigning an attempt at recovering her weapon yet, baiting him into stepping. Grabbing the hand that gripped his blade, she held it in place as she moved him to her will. 

> _You tip that mother fucker over …_

His brows would have furrowed, if there had been time, but she stepped inside of his stance, turning her back to him as she used his own momentum to drive him off balance, kicking his back leg out and causing him to stagger. 

> _Those who can swim, will …_

As she cut his arm downward in an arcing motion, her hip checked into his and he was up and over the railing of the balcony, falling to the ground below. 

> _And those who can’t …_

He grunted as he landed half on the side of a table, crashing down to the ground below. 

> _… they deserve to_ **_drown_**.”

Everyone froze again, their faces all expressing the same confused scowl as the same thought ran across all of their minds: _Did she just …_ **_toss_** _… their Duke over the balcony?_ She expected the other men to rush her, but instead they just stood there, turning to Abyad who had pulled himself fully to his feet and was dusting off his white suit. His glasses were off now and she could see that his eyes were an unnerving metallic silver.

 ** _Now_** she went for the blade and the men no longer hesitated on using their firearms. Dodging the bullets as she ran towards them, she dipped elegantly as she swiped the handle back into her grip and closed the distance between her and the five massive men. 

> “ ** _No killing._** ” EL reminded coldly.

She was so used to Quintus’ or Mr. Parker’s voice, egging her on with training when her mind was a chaotic mess of confusion during a fight. She had _always_ been terrible at planning, at attacking, at being the aggressor. Even though now she came to embrace EL’s voice in her head, the words that rattled next were new. The tone of the voice monotonous and confident.

## This … This was _Uriel_. 

> _It’s a dance. It’s always a dance._

The closest man received her customary kick to the knee. As she cut the side of her foot down into the hinge of his leg, the snap was loud and he fell to her level. 

> _Feel the rhythm of your opponent._

She _loved_ this move, as it allowed her to look _down_ at them before she would hit them. It brought them down to her level so she could look them in the eyes as she _won._ A side hook and the man was no longer conscious, his body bouncing as it hit the floor. 

> _Move only when they move. Step only when they step._

The second and third men pulled the triggers and she dodged, back and forth, back and forth, grabbing one and bowling him into the other as they toppled down the stairs behind them, their guns skidding across the tiled floor. 

> _Mask your own intentions with their actions._

More men coming up the stairs. _Shit_. There were two remaining in front of her and they didn’t attack immediately as she paused, waiting. She couldn’t wait for _too_ long though … 

> _And they’ll never see it coming …_

The fourth lunged and she smirked, sidestepping as she helped him in his step, sending him over the balcony to join _Raum_ below. The other one attempted to strike now. A boxer. He pulled his arms in and jabbed left and right. She could have drawn it out, if she really wanted toy with him, but … with one precise jab to the throat, her fingers found their way into his hair and she brought his face down and into her rising knee.

Turning back to Abyad, she stepped forward. Finally, just her and _The White King_ … but she heard the footsteps behind her and as she swung around, she deflected the blade strike with her own.

“ ** _Round three._** ” Raum raised his eyebrow in a playful way, but his smile was entirely gone. The brown of his eyes was now replaced with a deep crimson and his skin’s hue changed slightly to match the very same color as smoke began to rise from his shoulders.

He did not bother to come back up the stairs. He had jumped back up to the balcony directly from below, she was _mildly_ impressed. She might have been amused, but he was swinging again, striking without hesitation. He wasn’t holding back any longer. 

> _“Careful, Aurora. He’s a sneaky fucker.”_ EL was walking around

That’s ok. So was she. Parry, dodge, deflect. She faded back, but it was an empty fade and he took the bait, growing less careful as the origin of her training began to slowly dawn on him. He guarded and she struck, the edges sparked as she pushed against him and he stood his ground, their hilts touching as their faces were mere inches apart now.

He withdrew with a pass back, stepping back with his front leg so he could dislodge their blades and she lunged. _Sneaky_ indeed. She thought the retreat was because she had won the battle of strength, but it was simply to afford him enough space to flick a tab on the handle of his scimitar, smiling as he pulled his blade apart into two separate ones.

_What the fuck …_

She hesitated as she now faced a Marid Duke with dual blades and he spun them in each hand independently as he flung his long hair back out of his eyes. _Holy fuck. It was actually pretty cool looking_ and she felt herself blush slightly. 

> “Told you.” EL was still walking back and forth. “ _Sneaky_. I doubt that’s _all_ he’s hiding.”

##  _Uriel .._. 

> _Two blades are not always better than one. Your striking power and attention will be halved, but your opponent’s possible attacks will also be limited._

“ _Two blades are not always better than one._ ” She verbalized the memory of Uriel’s instruction as she grinned wildly. His eyes became large with shock as he _knew_ those words.

“What did you say?” He asked but the hesitation lasted for only a moment, before the archangel’s words rattled her free of her self-doubt. 

> **_To hesitate is to die._ **

“ _To hesitate …_ ” She spoke Uriel’s instruction out loud again. “ _Is to die._ ”

“How–?” He tried, but as she said, she didn’t hesitate any longer and their dance continued. While she was familiar with many dances, the two-step, the waltz, even the _jitterbug_ , this dance was considerably more complex. Some steps were short and blunt, others were long and exaggerated. And some were even incredibly delicate and intimate, as their bodies grazed past each other, and she cringed each time. At some point, she was lost in the motions of it and it became more and more entertaining to engage, so when EL spoke from behind her, she didn’t immediately react as she would later regret. 

> “ _Abyad._ ” He said. “ ** _Abyad._** ” He warned louder. “ ** _ABYAD_**. He’s gonna flank you!”

She hadn’t heard the White King move behind her, but that’s because she was listening for his footfalls. The Marid King was gliding across the floor, his lower body dissipating into gray smoke, just as Barqan had done when he introduced himself from the fire in that tent so many months ago.

Swinging the blade at him as he reached out for her, now less than three feet, the metal cut through the smoke but touched _nothing_ solid.

 _The fuck …_

> “ _Just Djinn trickery. Focus on Raum until Abyad strikes._ ”

EL scoffed, explaining quickly as she split her attention three ways. Now she had two swords and a _man of smoke_ to contend with. Her nerves increased and he sensed it immediately. 

> “Patience. It goes both ways. He has to become solid to _touch_ you.”

_Shit. Life just became a fucking video game …_

This dual attack was coordinated. They had clearly done this to opponents before. As Raum distracted with his waltz, Abyad passed through them both, stepping to the side and reaching back swiftly, pushing his hands back into material form on either side of her head as he created a fire so hot that it began to melt the glasses from her face.

In hindsight, she should have been expecting the fire that arced between his hands, but she was distracted and the pain was, quite literally, _blinding_. From all of those nights alone with the _Shiny Man_ and his instruments, She thought she _knew_ pain, but this was so much more. The heat of _this_ fire was primordial in magnitude and every sense in her body caved in complete submission to it.

EL was yelling first. His voice was thick with anger, screaming at The White King at full volume and urging Dawn to pull his hands away. That might have been the right course, but her instinct fell to closing her eyes tightly as she grabbed her head on either side of her temples, knocking the melting metal of the glasses free and stepping back as she began to scream, attempting a failed retreat from his savage onslaught. 

> “Abyad! STOP!” The Morning Star warned with growing anger as the Nexus quaked with uncertain energy. “I WILL FUCKING KILL–”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Raum was yelling next. “My King, no!!! There is no need for–” 

> “Aurora! Pull him away! Strike! It’s only pain!!! Pain is simply an _instrument_ –”

_Pain. She was drowning in the pain._ Oh god. She told Ellie … _Sandalphon_ … she might not be able to swim … _oh god …_

##  **_She was failing_** …

The agony was more than anything she had ever felt, but it wasn’t until she felt her eyelids flake away into ash and the membrane around her eyes began to melt that true panic set in as her eyes began to liquify down the charred cheeks of her face.

She would have cried rivers of tears, but she no longer had anything to cry with. As she brought her hands up to gingerly probe the sticky raw skin of her face, she could feel that the sear ran from ear to ear, across where her eyes and nose used to be.

There was … nothing left …

##  **_Oh god no …_ **

She might have been trying to scream, but what was coming out was more of a whimper as she continued to prod the sockets where her dragonfly eyes once were. When the hand pressed into the middle of her back, she flinched and spun at it, jabbing wildly as she cried out loud before realizing it was EL. 

> “ _Calm yourself._ ” His voice was filled with mild concern and brewing anger. “Aurora. Calm yourself. This is not permanent. Nothing is _permanent_. Not for _us_.” It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself, rather than her. “You need to focus on pulling yourself back together right now. Let me help you.”

“My eyes … I can’t … see.” She panted with desperation as she blindly felt around for him, forgetting that she was never able to _touch_ him back. “I can’t … I’m … blind.” She wanted to cry. The tears would be a release, but the _White King_ had taken those from her as well. The first thought to bounce across her mind next was that she was _never_ going to see _Quintus_ again at all now. He loved her eyes … what would he possibly want from her now?! As lovely as he thought she was, she could feel that nearly every inch of the skin on her face was bubbled and seared. Not even her spots were left. “ _He took my eyes …_ ”

##  _**Oh god. Oh my god …**_

> “Oh please …” EL’s disappointment was painfully clear in his tone as he chuckled lowly.

_Was he laughing at her anguish?_

> “No. I’m laughing at the futility of your _anguish_. It’s not time for a pity party right now, little girl. You need to _pull yourself back together … LITERALLY_.”

“Enough!” When her face buried into the fabric of something and arms embraced her, she at first thought it was Thomas, but it was Duke’s voice that bellowed from the body that pulled her tight. “This was entirely unnecessa–” Anger. Displeasure. Disappointment.

“Please!” For the first time since all of this had started, it was the _Shiny Man’s_ plea. “Please!” Desperation. _Fear_. **_Absolute terror._** “You do _not_ understand! YOU DO NOT–”

“Unnecessary?” Abyad scoffed. “You were _losing_ to her!”

“I was _not_ losing!” Raum countered.

“You _were_ losing … ” Abyad argued. “… to a _miniature seraphim_ and you were _enjoying_ it!”

“There was no reason to be _cruel!_ ” The argument continued as her body trembled under the throbbing agony emanating from her face.

“Enough! Cruel or not, she came into _my house_ looking for a fight. If she is what I assume she is, she will _heal_. Let it serve as adequate punishment for rudeness.” Abyad screamed. “I’ve had enough of this!”

“No!” Thomas begged loudly now. “Stop this now! Are you mad?!? Do not harm her! None of you understand–”

“Sometimes you are an insufferable bastard, **_my king_**.” Raum put significant sarcastic intotation on the last two words, but Abyad’s annoyance escalated.

“End the Nazi …” His voice was half anger, but half joy. “Take her to the cells …” Raum’s arms pulled her tightly and she felt herself drooling through the pain as her face around her empty sockets raged with unflinching pain, clouding every single part of her rational thought.

 _Pain_.

She thought she knew pain, but she realized how little she knew of _anything_ and _everything_.

_“And bring me my book.”_

Raum lifted her from the ground, similar to how he had before, but his grip was more delicate as he whispered to her. “I’m so sorry.” She was being carried somewhere and she was unable to fight it any longer. Her body was rigid from the motion but she could do nothing to stop it. Even if she lashed out, she had no idea how to function without her sight. 

> “Concentrate.” EL encouraged her. “Focus on healing.” His voice was angry and she didn’t know if it was directed at her or not. “It’s gonna hurt like a MOTHER FUCKER, but you _need_ to do it.”

“I …” She babbled, drool falling from her lower lip. “I don’t know _how_ to do it …”

“Don’t know how to do what?” Raum paused in his steps and asked to her simply as he shifted her weight to a more comfortable position, but when she had no reply he carried on. 

> “ _Concentrate_.” EL commanded now. “Focus on your eyes. Focus on _seeing_ again. Focus on pulling your divine cells from the ashes. You need to reconstitute yourself.”

“I can’t … ” She whispered but when she tried and she felt her body pulling itself back together, the pain was more she could bear again. “I can’t …”

 _The pain._ Her face throbbed …

 _Fuck_ … She … He … Them … ? No … it was more than anything she had …

Oh god no … She can’t … She …

She didn’t mean to give up control. It wasn’t like the moment on the roof when she had relinquished herself to EL. No, this was because she retreated from the pain. Sneaking back into the recesses of her own mind, she didn’t know he would come forth so readily. But in that precious and quick moment as they swapped positions, she felt his anger. She _felt_ his utter disgust and she _felt_ his love before she resisted.

Then there was a question. _That question_. That question was what gave EL power over her, wasn’t it? 

> _“Why are we here, Aurora?”_ EL sneered. She could _feel_ he was itching for revenge, his desire to burn Abyad back was clear.

She didn’t respond with anything other than continuing her retreat fully and abdicating control to him. The name of her lost love, desperate and eager, fluttered across her frantic mind … 

> _Quintus._

It was done and all she could do was watch …

##  **_Just …_ **

##  **like …**

##  **everyone …**

##  **else.**

**[Closer - Nine Inch Nails](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F39tLc4Xp58Lu4KcWHggeE2&t=NjExYTM4MzFjN2JkNDQzNDg2MGZkZDBiNWI4YjE2ZDI2YzBiNDVhYSxlZUVORmhWZg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163968425703%2F75-choices&m=1)**

> _You let me violate you_
> 
> _You let me desecrate you_
> 
> _You let me penetrate you_
> 
> _You let me complicate you_
> 
> _Help me_
> 
> _I broke apart my insides_
> 
> _Help me_
> 
> _I’ve got no soul to sell_
> 
> _Help me_
> 
> _The only thing that works for me_
> 
> _Help me get away from myself_

> “ _This_ , Aurora. This is our true power, from which all others are merely inherited.”

She could _sense_ the pain, but she no longer felt it, as EL weaved her body back together quickly, explaining as he did so. 

> “Your gladiator tapped into it too … the moments before his first death. I _felt_ it.  Michael helped him.”

The torturous feel of it didn’t even affect him as much. He was numb to the intensity and he pushed it aside as he pulled her burned cells from the air and ground all around them. 

> “This is the power that _only_ Hayyoth and _My Father_ wield.”

Shifting and massaging, he reformed the atoms into what they were before. As he used the divinity to knit her skin, eyes, and nose back to formation from seemingly nothing at all, she felt him beginning to smile. 

> “This is the power … that when you master … you will be a force unimaginable. _Unstoppable._ ”

One moment, she was broken, burned, disfigured. She felt like she was a shell of what she had been and the next, she was entirely whole. _He_ had made her _whole_ again. Given her back what was taken from her and her relief was immediate. 

> “This … _this is The Body of God_ , Aurora.” He explained while the electricity sparked across their interwoven souls. “This is the power of **_Creation_** itself.”

Trying to step forward, she was denied and he grinned through her lips, but kept her eyes tightly shut as he spoke with supreme confidence. 

> “No, **_my sister_**. _It’s my turn now_.” Rage.

Oh no … That fury. _His fury._ She watched everything unfold in slow motion, standing to the side of her own body and viewing the scene as EL usually did. She was now just an unwilling witness to the carnage that was about to unfold.

“You _really_ should have taken the money, old fool … ” It was her voice, but there was an extra vibration to it and everyone there _knew_ she wasn’t actually the one speaking any more. “And you _really_ shouldn’t have burned her …”

“Oh no …” Thomas uttered, pushing his back against the far wall as hard as he could. “Oh … mein … Gott … We are **_all_** dead.”

Raum hadn’t put her down yet, but it mattered not. The shockwave of the golden divinity ripped through him and sent him flying, back first against the far wall and there was a brief second where she was floating before her feet touched down on ground with absolute elegance.

Abyad was fast, upon her in a fraction of a second, his fist swinging with the full force of a Marid Djinn king towards her temple, his body smoking as his skin turned a deep crimson. His face was full of shock when she didn’t even attempt to dodge, but instead caught his fist in one of her tiny hands.

The expression when EL _finally_ opened her eyes was absolutely priceless as Abyad’s mouth dropped fully agape, staring back into those _devilish_ rainbow eyes, the actual reality of the situation finally became obvious and Thomas’ words became clear. The reality of just how unbelievably _fucked_ they all were spread like wildfire across his smoking face.

The King attempted to transform back into smoke, but EL held him in his current form through sheer will alone, commanding the molecules of the Djinn’s body to _keep_ their solid form. _The power of Creation._

“Nuh uh, you _White fuck._ ” EL chortled with amusement. “No more trickery.”

“ _Dear Lor–_ ” Abyad began … but EL finished.

“ ** _Round four_**.” EL whispered delicately to him before he crushed the Djinn’s hand and _all_ of the tiny bones within it in a single squeeze and the King fell to his knees. “ _Old friend._ ”

The White King was only able to utter _one_ command through the connection before the archangel sent him into unconsciousness with a solidly placed left hook to his chin: 

> **_“RUN.”_ **

Her back was still to Raum and everything stopped again. No one but Abyad had seen her eyes yet and Raum wasn’t sure how to proceed as he scrambled back to his feet. Apparently flooring a Marid King was something that didn’t happen often … _if ever._

> “ _Please_ EL.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but on some level she _knew_. “No one has seen us yet, we don’t–”

“Leave now. We came for _The White King_. You and your people are free to leave. She’s asked for mercy and I will allow it.” Was EL actually listening to her? He was offering Raum and the others escape. “You gave _her_ the option to leave, so I offer it to you now, **_Raum, The Merciful_**. This needn’t get … _messier_.”

“I …” Raum was approaching from behind, holding his hand up to the guards that stood at the stairwell entrance ready to foolishly engage for the sake of their beloved King. “I will not leave _My King. I cannot._ ” 

> “ _Please_ EL.” She begged.
> 
> “You heard me. I offered mercy, Aurora. It has been refused. What happens next will be on them.” The tone was devoid of emotion. “I’m sorry, but no one can know our _secret_. _Not yet_ at least.”
> 
> “What?” She asked. “What does that mean? You said _no killing_ …”

“Your King commanded you to **_run_**.” EL said calmly.  “I suggest you heed his warning, _child_.”

“I will _never_ leave my _Lord‘s_ side.”

“So be it. Loyal to a fault. You haven’t changed at all, Raum.” She cringed as she felt EL turning to face the swordsman. “Unfortunately, you’ll find that _I haven’t either,_ **_brother_**.”

 _Their eyes locked_ and Raum already dropped his blades, running towards the back wall at full sprint, screaming furiously out loud as well as through the Nexus.

“It is the Morning Star. FLEE!” 

> **_The Morning Star. FLEE!_ **

EL would realize later, this was a _dastardly_ diversion. Raum needed time and the people running for the exits would keep EL busy for him. He was not a bad person and offering up his own people for cannon fodder was simply practical, because even he knew at this moment, _none of them were going to make it out of there …_

The jump from the second floor, across the entire length of the building was similar to the one from the roof top. He squatted, lightning sparked around her entire body, burning holes through the clothing at various points before he launched himself. He flipped over halfway in the jump so that he would land facing the people who rushed to exit. Hitting the ground hard, the impact created a tiny crater in the floor and he looked up to gaze upon his victims. 

> _“EL …” She protested. She attempted to protest. “What are you going to do to them?”_
> 
> _“Why are we here, Aurora?”_

She closed her eyes as tears formed and the golden divinity expanded from her body and they screamed with exquisite agony, their souls burning away from existence itself. She would _never_ forget the sound of the screams on this night. Others attempted to flee toward the back exit, but he was there, burning and purging them _all_. Five souls, ten, twenty. All … _gone_. Ten more. Twenty more.

 _Jesus Christ …_ Quintus’ voice. A painful memory … [You are not a kind person](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F23555928&t=ZTc2NDkyMzg3ZGMxMjY0ZjlkMjFlODVhNWI5Njc5MjVjZTk3NmQ4MSxlZUVORmhWZg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163968425703%2F75-choices&m=1). He was right … _Oh god … She was a_ **_monster_**.

Something skipped across the Morning Star’s mind almost so quickly she nearly missed it. He was actually _enjoying_ this. It was the feeling of _vengeance_ and she plucked one _significant_ thought from it … 

> “You took her from me, brother. Let’s see how you like it when I **_take_** them from _**you**_ …”

The first floor was _clean_. No, the entire building was purged. Now it was just Raum and Abyad and he looked up to see Raum pulling something out of the safe in the wall. That’s why he didn’t run for the stairs … It was a vial of thick red liquid. 

> “ ** _Oh shit._** ” EL said and jumped back up to the second floor. “ _Sneaky fucker._ ”
> 
> “What is that?!”
> 
> _“The Blood of a God.”_

Raum saw the jump, pushed the black rubber stopper from the top of the vial in his hand off with his thumb and downed the liquid in it before EL landed. But … was EL … _laughing_?

“Did you just down that whole thing?” Yes, he was laughing. “Bahahahah. Damn. How does that feel, you idiot?” 

> “Who’s blood is that?”
> 
> “The blood of their **_false god_**.”
> 
> “False god?”
> 
> “Argaman. It’s how they power their obfuscation glyphs.”
> 
> “Their … **_god_**?” She argued. “I thought only the blood of a Hayyoth can power–”

The Marid doubled over in pain, gripping his stomach as his jaw clenched. He struggled to come to terms with the pain _much_ faster than EL expected.

“Still _underestimating_ your opponent, I seen.” It was Raum’s turn to chuckle now. **_“Round Five?”_**

EL made a grab for him, but it was dodged as the Djinn’s skin crawled with silver divinity, striking her body directly in the sternum. It was also now her turn to fall over the balcony as she hit the ground below with a thud.

_Oh fuck …_

* * *

 

 **[Devil Side - Foxes](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6iudA5joUv7hmPQYFIVEB5&t=OTNlZDA1Y2VlYmQ1YWRjNjVmYTU5MWQyOGY4ZmFkZjk5NmI4Nzc3OSxlZUVORmhWZg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163968425703%2F75-choices&m=1)**

> _Run and hide_
> 
> _It’s gonna be bad tonight_
> 
> _Cause here comes your devil side_
> 
> _It’s gonna ruin me_
> 
> _It’s almost like slow motion suicide_
> 
> _Watching your devil side get between you and me_

Abyad was conscious, but he didn’t have time to pull himself up when Raum struck the Morning Star. The divinity charge residing within the Djinn wouldn’t last long. Djinn, even **_Marid_** , could not hold onto the power. It would dissipate in minutes and he only bought them a second or two. Sadly, that is all that was needed.

Abyad reached for the discarded bone sword as his eyes locked onto his _oldest friend’s_. The order was unspoken but clear and _heartbreaking_. 

> “There is no time.” Abyad explained to just Raum, though their minds. “ _Save my soul._ ”

Raum’s eyes pleaded but Abyad nodded once. Neither of them were going to make it out of here alive. Their lives on the _Earthly_ plane was now forfeit.

They needed to get word out. They needed to warn Heaven at the very least. Raum was already before him as the King came to his knees before his most trusted servant. He accepted the bone sword that his king offered to him. The White King closed his silver eyes for the very last time.

The Morning Star was already back over the railing as he saw what was about to occur. Raum, even charged with Argaman’s divinity, wasn’t faster than EL, but he was at least fast enough that the archangel would not be able to stop him at their current distance. Though this fact didn’t stop the Morning Star from trying, screaming as he lunged forward.

 _“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU FUCKING COWARDS! DON’T YOU FUCKING DO IT!!!”_

> “Goodbye, _old friend_.”
> 
> “Forgive me, _my King_. I will see you in _Oblivion._ ”

Taking a deep and pitiful breath, Raum swung the Born’s blade, removing his King’s head from his body. As Abyad’s head hit the ground, rolling towards the petrified Nazi, EL drew upon _his own divinity_ , her skin now crawling with both gold and red as he lashed out his anger on Raum, bringing the loyal servant to his knees as he struck him over and over again, sending the bone sword clanking across the floor.

“FUCKING SHIT! FUCKING! FUCKING HELL!!! YOU DENIED ME?!? ME!?!? YOU FUCKING DENIED ME?!?”

Raum didn’t scream. Even as her tiny, but powerful fists tore his skin open, he never made a sound. The silver lightning arced across and healed each wound the second it was opened, but EL didn’t stop his hissy fit until she finally asked him to. 

> “ _Please_. Stop.” She asked. “It’s over. _We lost._ ”

“ ** _FUUUUUUUUCK_**!” He screamed at the ceiling as he paced back away from the defiant Duke in aggravation, bringing her hand up to her forehead. “You fucking fuck!!! **_YOU FUCKING_** –” 

> “EL.”

“Well …” He turned back to the beaten swordsman, fully expecting to rid Raum of his entire existence and then she tried to push him out again. There was a noticeable hesitation as she held him at bay for a moment, but he won, thrusting her back. “You’re useless then, aren’t you.” 

> “EL. NO. Enough.”

“No one can know _her_ secret, Raum. You see, you put me in a _terrible_ position here. I just wanted Abyad. You could have walked away from this.” His eyes danced with power and anger. 

> “Please.”

“Make your choice, _Duke_.”

“Choice, **_My Lord_**?” He asked but a chill ran down her spine as she _realized_ what EL was implying. Crouching down, the Morning Star retrieved the bowie knife from her boot and handed it to Raum. She remembered … **_Oh god_**. _The Master offered her the same choice …_

> “EL … no. Oh god …”
> 
> “I offer him _mercy_.” EL spat at her words. “ _Lilith_ received no such offer, did she?”

“Make your choice, you piece of Marid shit. _Hell_ or _Oblivion_?”

Raum stared at the blade, pausing before he took it from her gloved hand. “Whatever he has promised you …” He looked up into her eyes, seeking the person that lurked somewhere behind the rainbow irises. “ _Whatever he has said … It is a lie, little one._ ”

“Raum …” EL warned. “Do **_not_** test my patience.”

“I can see it … You are _Hayyoth._ ” He ignored EL’s warning with bravery. “The hair, the face … the spots. You are _Michael’s_ , aren’t you?”

“It’s oblivion then?” EL was done with the conversation. “So be it. I tried, Aurora. This is his–.” As he reached for Raum’s throat, he felt her cringe within. Another hesitation, Raum could _see_ it. EL was struggling for control but he obviously had enough to finish the Djinn. 

> “Don’t.” Her composure was back. The pain was abated. She was strong again.

“We can help you. We are **_here_** to help you.” His crimson eyes were now amber again, save for the small halo of silver around the edge as the divinity slowly wore away. He looked at her with hope and his brows furrowed heavily. “What could he have _possibly_ promised you that would be worth _this_ cost?”

She fought for control, but failed as he placed the blade in the _same_ location that Quintus had shown her was his own weakness.  Between those two precious ribs, angled up to that perfectly deadly degree.  She heard his flesh give as he pushed the blade within and collapsed before her. 

> _“NO …”_

The struggle was intense, but immediate. EL was teaching her to be stronger and he would regret it, because he taught her enough to push him out of control. This was still _her_ body and she was _still_ the captain of her own soul. The rainbow colors melted away, leaving only the rich green behind.

She had no idea what the ramifications on her body were until she was fully at the helm again and every inch of her ached with furious agony. She was only able to utter one thing before she collapsed to her knees on the ground before him. 

> “ _I’m sorry._ ” Was the last thing she heard the Morning Star utter before Thomas scooped her into his arms, making his way down the stairs and over all of the burned bodies that laid in her wake.

“The sword …” She stuttered. “Please don’t leave the sword …”

“Do not worry … I have it, my dear … and I _have_ you.”

## Oh god …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry. Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.


	54. 7.6 - Choices

Ignoring his anger for now, Michael smirked at his own cleverness. He blinked himself to the gate and then slowed down time as much as he could in his current state. His brothers could do the same, but right now, they were still moving at normal speed. This gave him time to think for a moment and plan his next action carefully.

He regretted having left the boy behind, as he had no doubts that Raphael would eventually just take everything from him. If he could draw attention away from him, he might be able to buy time to double back and grab the boy.

If not, even if Raphael gleaned that Dawn was Michael’s from Quintus’ memory, at least there was nothing there to out Hathų, nor her children _as his_. As of right now, his daughter was the only one in immediate danger. With the gate closed, at least they wouldn’t be able to pursue her right away.

But, first thing’s first, he would need to ensure his little brothers wouldn’t be able to find him. Looking down at his ring, he pondered if it would even work. If _he_ hadn’t known this glyph, would his ring know it?

Shrugging, he whispered onto it, breathing the command over its gold surface with Enochian speech, “ _Obfuscation_.” His eyes grew wide with amazement as the glyph burned bright. _Dear god_ … it was there. This whole time, within his ring!? What else was he unaware of? Without delay, he pressed the ring against his own wrist, cringed slightly as it marked him.

Now, a great diversion was needed and he turned to the waters that served as the barrier between the two worlds, wading out into its waves. As the water reached his waist, he thrust the staff into it and began to work quickly.

When they closed it before, when the _Seventh_ first started its play for Earth after threatening Michael with knowing her existence, it had taken all three brothers. After what he had learned from Ozryel’s memory about what the staff actually was, he began to pull the power stored within.

“ _Thanks little brother._ ” He smirked again as his skin crawled with both gold and purple now. The water slowly began to solidify all around them. After this was done, he would go back to _Earth_ and check on the humans to see if they had located her yet.

He was desperate to know what was happening because even as he pushed the divinity through him, he could _still_ feel it being pulled _out_ of him. He accepted that it had been rash to lash out at Raphael of all people, but his mind was rampant with fear and pain. When he faced his little brother, nearly collapsing the moment the depletion started, he knew that fear and pain were hers. And as he pumped the energy into the solidifying water, he felt himself only weakening further.

_Fuck._

The staff had been out of Raphael’s possession for hundreds of years and he wasn’t sure how much energy was stored in it, but he would pull out every last fucking ounce of it. Souls quickly began to hit the surface of the ice with a thud, unable to breach it they remained floating under its surface.

He understood he was _freezing_ the area on Earth, just as they had done before and people were dying. By the hundreds. At the end of it, it would likely be thousands. He watched as the freezing slowly continued through the depths of the water and the white lights of the recently departed drifted aimlessly under the ice sheet before they became frozen in its grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure this is only temporary.” He apologized, but he didn’t really care. They were aimless right now and the gate would eventually be reopened … _Right_? Hmmm. Besides, he was nearly done. The closure was almost complete. As he stepped up onto the nearly solid surface to freeze the section where he had been standing, something caught his eye and he took notice of the _red soul_ frozen under the surface only five feet from him.

“ _What the fuck …_ ” _Red souls … were Djinn souls_ and the only Djinn on Earth were the _fallen_ ones. Uh oh. Michael walked over and knelt, looking carefully at it as his eyes grew wide. “ _What the fuck …_ ” He repeated with shock. It was a _Marid_.

His first thought jumped to the conclusion that it was Barqan and panic struck him quickly. The last thing he wanted was for someone who _knew_ his secret to be so readily available to this brothers for interrogation.

_Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit. Fuck. God damn it._

Drawing the celestial blade, he started to hack and cut the divine ice away until he was close enough that the heat of the Marid soul itself melted the rest of its way through the ice. Yanking it free, he threw the thing down and watched it as it slowly took form before him.

 _Wait … “What the fuck …”_ It was becoming a man and he stared into the awe struck silver eyes of Abyad the White the moment he saw his Brother’s suddenly appear on the bank.

First _Uriel_. Then _Gabriel_. They were moving towards him.

 _Fuck_. But where was … Then _Raphael_.

_Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

_Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK._

Nope. No time.

“G … G… Governor?” Abyad asked with confusion as the angel did not hesitate to floor him immediately, using the butt of the celestial blade and striking the king directly to the temple. Abyad collapsed onto the ice and he grabbed the Djinn, throwing him over his shoulder as he almost buckled from his growing weakness. Grabbing the staff as he was still unable to access any of his own divinity, he used it to _blinked_ himself elsewhere, hearing only a single thing from his desperate little brother before he vanished.

“Michael! Please! What is the meaning–”

* * *

 

Willing himself to this ‘woman’ was easy. When he came to the familiar square, he paused. She was in a _replica_ of _Rome_ , and somehow he was _not_ surprised. He could see her clearly sitting at the cafe, across the square from his loft. Her back slightly to him as she drank coffee from an oversized mug and read a newspaper.

Taking a single step in her direction, he heard a soft yet worried voice, laced with uncertainty, speak from behind. “Quintus?”

He knew who it was from the voice alone and as he turned to face her sad brown eyes, he cringed slightly. He had _no time_ for this right now and he voiced exactly that as he waved her off. “I’ve no time for _your games_ , right now, _Princess_. Find me later.”

Hathų swallowed deeply. Her composure was more withdrawn than normal, as she held her arms tightly to her chest in a defensive manner. Her thick eyebrows contorting with overwhelming emotion. “What’s happening, Quintus? I was told there was a distur–”

“I cannot deal with you right now.” He attempted another step and her arm was out. She didn’t grab him, but instead opted to lay her fingers gently on his bicep as he turned back to address her increasingly saddened face. “Forgive me, but I’ve no time for this.”

“I can’t _find_ …” She stuttered, her sentence trailing off quietly. “I heard rumors there was a … _confrontation_ in the _Halls of Knowledge_ …” As she looked up into his face for a moment before her eyes wandered off to his side and into the courtyard behind him, catching sight of something … significant.

Quintus was observant and the look of recognition across her face was immediately clear and he was already speculating what … no, _who_ … she was looking at already. Turning slowly, he followed the stare to the same ‘woman’ and her newspaper.

“Do you know _who that_ woman is?” He asked immediately and Hathų looked shocked for a moment as she considered not answering.

Something wasn’t right in the desperation of his question. “Yes … _that’s_ … Wait, how did you even find her?” Hathų only looked back at him with her large, questioning eyes. “You shouldn’t be visiting people from _her_ past, Quintus. You’ll bring unnecessary attention–”

“ _Princess_ …” He gripped her arm tightly. “Who is it that you think _that woman_ is?” She looked at him with perplexion. He tugged on her elbow sharply as he reached up with his other hand, gripping her chin firmly and turning her face to him fully. He’d never been so physical with her and her confusion only grew by the second. What a strange question to ask, wasn’t it?

“Don’t you know?” She hesitated, afraid to disclose _anything_ to him and he tightened his grip as his patience waned. “Why else would you be here–”

“Hathų.” Interrupting her, his voice was stern and commanding. “No more games.”

“That’s … “ She swallowed again. “ _Eleanor_.”

“And who exactly is _Eleanor_?” He glanced back and the woman sipped from her cup carefully, flicking the newspaper to the next page.

“ _Ellie_.” Hathų corrected herself. “She’s … She’s Dawn’s best friend.”

“Best … “ He glanced back again, almost unable to internalize what was just said to him. “ _Friend_?”

Not many things ever shocked the dhampir. When he saw the Great Wall the first time, he was mildly in awe. The pyramids themselves hadn’t evoked much amazement from him. They were just more buildings; more useless human invention based on religion. Even when he first came to Heaven, it was only when the three brother’s took flight together right before him that he even raised an eyebrow. But at _this_ disclosure, he felt his skin crawl with bumps yet again. He was now unable to rip his eyes from the seated woman for fear of her disappearing if he looked away.

A memory rushed to him suddenly as he recollected _his poet_ speaking with the _Master_ in that concrete room so long ago:

> **_“I made your brunette friend suffer most of all …”_ **

“For how long?” He asked quickly.

“How long?” Hathų asked and Quintus shook her arm. “How long have they been _friends_?” He qualified.

“ _All their lives._ ” She said matter of factly. “They grew up together.”

“Hmmm.” His emotions bubbled at all once as his face became sharp with anger. “Did they now …”

“Quintus … what does _this_ mean?” She pushed, but he did not turn away from staring at the woman.

“Go.” He commanded Hathų, releasing his grip on her as he approached his target without further delay.

“Quintus–” She attempted an argument, but he was already walking.

“Go **_now_**.” He ordered. “I will find you later.”

_He approached silently and carefully, or so he had assumed …_

> **[Until We Go Down - Ruelle](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0ON06ClWO2n1xSvSnHB0bb&t=NWMwM2JkZGMwYWVjZjRkYzNhNTRiZmIxNjZhYWQ0MWI5NWIxYTI0YiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1) **
> 
> _And I feel it running through my veins_
> 
> _And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake_
> 
> _Erased, I missed till the break of day_
> 
> _And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake_
> 
> _Until we go down_
> 
> _Until we go down_

“ ** _Hello Quintus_**.” Her voice was calm and collected. “I’ve been waiting to introduce myself for quite some time.” She spoke with a posh English accent, without even glancing up from her reading and while he was still out of her view, a number of feet behind her. “I would offer to get you a drink, but we _both_ know, you care not for _human_ trivialities like that.”

“Hmmm.” He grumbled. _Waiting for him?_ The shock of her statement faded immediately as he began to collect himself. Given _who_ she was, of course she knew he was coming, didn’t she? She had purposefully _let_ him see her that night in the _French Quarter_. She had _manipulated_ him and this fact displeased him greatly. He was so used to being the manipulator.

As he continued around to the other side of the small metal table to face her, she waved a welcoming hand at the empty seat across from her. “Please … **_sit_**.”

His more defiant side wished to refuse, but he suppressed it and instead complied, sliding into the seat slowly as he watched her continue to read her _news_.

“It really is _amazing_ the ridiculousness that humans are capable of, you know?” It was a rhetorical question of course, and he stared in silence as she continued, reading something in the news that was igniting her annoyance. “Families are starving to death across the country, but at least they’ve started to _rebuild_ the Statue of Liberty. Because … _priorities_ , I suppose?” She folded the paper with mild disgust, laying it down carefully and finally looking up into his eyes. “The world was very _nearly_ destroyed a year ago, and _already_ , they are back to bickering about trivial things and calling for _witch hunts_.”

“I highly doubt this shocks _you_.” He spoke, his tone devoid of all emotion as he tried in vain to read the situation. “I doubt much of _anything_ likely shocks you … _Eleanor_.”

“Ellie, please. Eleanor sounds so formal.” A smile. He would not play his hand too quickly but something told him she was already well aware he knew everything. “Shock? No. Of course not.” She shook her head. “But disappointment? Every single _fucking_ time. Then again … savagery _is_ the default state of humanity, isn’t that right?”

This sentence was delivered with great precision to throw him off and it worked like a charm as he could only stare back into her rich blue irises as she continued to speak. “They have proven themselves, so very often, how unworthy they are of their _gift_.”

“Their … _gift_?” She was luring him to ask and he bit. Whether or not he agreed with her full-heartedly, as he obviously did, the condescension in her voice annoyed him very much.

“Existence, Quintus..” She stated plainly before she qualified further. “ ** _Freedom_**.”

“Freedom?” He scoffed. “Freedom from _what_ exactly?”

“ _Freedom_ **_from_** _control. Freedom from … destiny._ ” Her words stung him, but she knew they would, that’s why she said them. “Isn’t that what you have _always_ craved, child? To be the Captain of your _own soul_. The master of your _own fate_ , Invictus?”

“I …” He paused, mulling over her implication and he found himself unable to say anything in retort. Had she _actually_ made him speechless? This did _not_ occur often …

“ ** _Freedom_** _to choose and … the Freedom to_ **_fall_** and the _Freedom_ to **_love_**.”

There was a pause as he considered where to start. Perhaps from the beginning? “And what of _God_? What does he think of this … **_freedom_**?” He pried. “What did you say … or _do_ … to him?”

“ ** _Do_** to him?” She laughed out loud at the accusation, waving her elegantly long fingers at him. “Oh my dear boy, I did nothing _to_ him. Are you daft? No one can do anything **_to_** The Creator. He **_is_** everything. Did you really come here to discuss _God_?”

“Then what was it exactly? How is it that you managed to drive _God_ from _Heaven_?”

“He left of his own free will. I simply delivered the revelation of _exactly_ what it is that he was … and what it is that he had actually built.”

“That being?”

“Look around you.” She flicked her chin to the left and to the right. “What do **_you_** see, Quintus?”

“ _People_.” He answered, without moving his eyes from hers. “A poor replica of Rome.”

She chuckled lowly at his bluntness. “I mean more generally. Where are we?”

“ ** _Paradise_**.”

“No.” Her word was curt as she smiled very slightly. “I’m _not_ asking the _name_ that was given to it by others, Quintus. I am not asking _what_ it is _to you_ … I am asking what do **_you_** see?”

He paused as bumps riddled his body again. Everything she was saying was leading up to this one point that he understood clearly and it was one he made when he first arrived. It was something frustrated him greatly. “ ** _A prison_**.”

“ ** _Yes_**. Perfect. Exactly that.” Her smile grew marvelously wide. “What I made _Father_ see is that he is _not_ a **_Father_** at all. He realized he was a **_Warden_**.”

“If that is the case, why did he leave? Why not just **_free_** everyone?” He countered quickly. “If he is _as all-powerful_ as you say he is …”

“Powerful, yes. But all-powerful? _Not quite._ He built the rules, but even he must still exist within those very same rules, as flawed as he now realizes they are. He cannot undo them unless he undoes it all and starts over from scratch … _and he will not do that_. He loves too many here to let _us_ all go.”

“So he just leaves?” He shook his head in disbelief. “How is this a better fate to deliver upon your children?”

“ _The absolute best fate, my child_.” She smiled.

“I am _not_ your child.” He sneered.

“Freedom or safety, Quintus? We _both_ know which one you would choose and _why_.” She sipped. “It was one of the _many_ reasons _why_ I chose you.”

“ _You_ chose me? For my unflinching defiance?” He asked and she shook her head carefully.

“No. That’s not what I’m referring to.” She grinned at him and for the first time he had _no idea_ what she might be implying. “I chose you for your capacity for _hope_.”

“Hope?!” He nearly choked at the absurd word. His gasp was far too loud as he laughed at her accusation. “I am afraid _you have me confused with someone else_ , Eleanor.”

Her face remained staring at him with wonder, much as Raphael had done in that carriage ride and his own glee over her _perceived joke_ faded away as he became uncomfortable with her stare. “ _I_ **_see_** _you, gladiator_. In all your naked and vulnerable glory. I _see_ you. I have _always_ seen you. You may keep that part of yourself tucked away, but you cannot hide yourself from **_me_**.”

“I have never hidden–” He began, but she interrupted with grace.

“You …” She raised an eyebrow. “Who were beaten within an inch of your life so many times that I’ve already lost count. You … who rose from being born a slave, put on display for entertainment, to become a _general_ , one of the greatest in history. You, who–”

“Hope is for _children_. Hope is for people who have _not_ seen the world as I have seen it.” He cut her off. “Do not confuse my **_perseverance_** for **_hope_**. They are not the same.” He wasn’t sure why he found the word so _insulting_ , but he shifted in his seat, bringing his hands into a fist as he hit it slightly hammered it against the table.

“Is it not though, Quintus?” Her head tilted with wonder. “Is it not the _hope_ that you will eventually succeed that drives your unyielding **_perseverance_**? Is it not the _thought_ of the _smallest chance of success_ that made you carry on for _so very many years_? Lesser men would have given up, you see, not because they lacked _stamina_ or … _perseverance_ … or _defiance_ … or **_hate_**. They would have failed because they lacked _hope_.”

Her words … he denied them. He was a _brute_. He was … “You will forgive me if I don’t accept myself as a **_hopeful_** person.”

“And … is it not _hope_ that brings you before me now?” She queried and he stared at her in silence. “Hmmm? Is it not _hope_ that I might be able to offer you something …”

“Offer me?” His brows furrowed as he leaned in. “What is it that you think I wish you to offer me?” The sentence sounded better in his head before he spoke it, but the meaning came across clearly for her and she smiled. “I have **_many questions_**. I have simply come for _answers_.”

“Oh yes. And through these answers, you seek _hope_ , Quintus.” She mused. “You _hope_ there is escape. You _hope_ there is a way back … _to her_.”

He hesitated as he considered the creature he gazed upon. Was he really _that_ easy for her to read? Was he simply an open book for this all-seeing creature to peruse, just as _Michael_ had _attempted_ to do? “I have been _assured_ that it is impossible. That I must accept my _fate_ here. That I must … comply, for _her_ sake.”

“I’m sorry …” She looked up, feigning confusion, as her intense eyes locked onto his equally incredible stare. “Was _that_ one of **_your many questions_**? It could have been, but it sounded more like a statement to me.” Tip-toeing around this being didn’t seem to be working in his favor and he wavered in his resolve to manipulate her. “ _One_.” She said simply, smiling as she sipped.

“One what?” His nose furrowed in annoyance.

“One question, Quintus. You have _many_ , but I will only answer _one_ of them.”

“Who is Argaman?” There was no hesitation and he felt like _this_ answer had the most direct ties back to _Earth_. Argaman worked across the realms and he might be able to–

“Eeeeeeeeeeeh!!!” She attempted to verbalize a buzzer noise to signal he was quite wrong. “Wrong question. Sorry. Did you think you would get to _choose_ the question? No, my dear boy, that’s not how this will work, I’m afraid. Besides, only _Argaman_ knows who _Argaman_ is. They been quite careful about that. Quite sneaky that one.”

“But you know, do you not? You … and _God–_ ” He was highly aggravated now.

“Oh please. We _hardly_ count, Quintus. We’re not even in _this_ part of the game. Nope. Sorry. Try again. Won’t help you there.” She pressed her lips together as she licked them slightly, showing great amusement with him. “But don’t worry, you’ll figure that one out all on your own.”

He grumbled lowly, staring at her with eyes of flame. “Who is her _progenitor_?”

“ _That_ …” She leaned forward with a devilish grin as she tapped her index finger on the table loudly. “Will come soon as well. You are quite the clever boy. You’ve itchings of it already though, but again … _not the question you are here for_ nor is it the one I will answer for you today.”

“Can you speak to her?” He knew Hathų _had_ been able to. “Can you tell her that–”

“Not the question, but I’ll give it to you for free.” She was serious now. “I cannot. She has been isolated from Heaven.”

“Who isolated her?”

“In a way … _herself_. Or rather, she _allowed_ another.”

“Which _other_?” His eyes grew wide and she ignored the question fully.

“I cannot speak to her anymore. I have not spoken to her since _my time_ in the _confluence_. My time there was before the _Fall_ , right after I sent her off to Rome.”

“Rome?” He gasped.

“Oh yes.”

“She was … _here_?”

“In this _very_ square, in fact. Right outside your window.” She reached her hand across the table, offering it palm up to him. “Would you like me to show you?”

Normally Quinlan would have practiced hesitation, but he gripped her hand immediately and he was thrust back into a memory not his own, but he was there …

> _Tasa’s Birthday. Walking out of his flat to visit his old farm. The only day he had left that year. And he remembered walking out of the building, the door to the vehicle open and awaiting him. The gust of wind … He remembered noticing the small woman, crouched on the ground trying to retrieve her lost paperwork. He could not see her face and her hair was shorter than it had been … her body was plumper than it had been, but the spots on her arm were visible. He continued on his path to the vehicle and …_

“She was …” He gasped. “Here? She was …”

“Within your grasp. How frustrating is that?” She chuckled. “She as always _pulled_ to Rome, you see. She could always feel your divinity. Even before she was _diminished_ , when she was just a tiny thing, she would steal dreams from your past.”

“She was …” He looked over at the building where the _near-meeting_ had almost occurred. “The _fucking_ wind.”

“Indeed.”

Get it together, Quintus. She had shown him this to throw him off and he pushed the revelation, as agonizing as it was, from his mind and returned to her previous statement. “What is a confluence?”

She grinned at the speed with which he internalized the memory. “It is a gathering of Prophets.”

“This happened _before_ the _Fall_? So, she _knew_ what you were then?” He gasped. “I do not believe this.”

“Oh, no. Her time in the confluence is happening _right now_.”

“I don’t follow …”

“We are the _Daughters of Time_ , Quintus. We are not bound by the laws of it.”

Quintus took a long and deep breath, looking over to the building that housed his condo on Earth and wondered who might live there here. He turned back, nearly desperate in his words and then asked frankly. “Can you help me? Can you send me back to Earth, **_Eleanor_**? Can you undo _all_ of this?”

She laughed out loud now and he felt foolish for even asking the question, his brows pinching with embarrassment. “ ** _I_** cannot. _Omniscience_ is _not_ the same thing as _omnipotence_. I might _know_ many things but no … I am not capable of _that_ feat.”

“ ** _That feat?_** If you are not, is someone else?” She did not say it was the _wrong_ question and he felt himself fiddling with that same shell again. At some point, his nervous nature had fished it out of his pocket and he hadn’t even noticed. There was a tiny sprinkle of _hope_ she gave him and he picked up on it immediately as she knew he would. “What **_feat_** is this? Is it possible? I was told it was impossible to _leave_ –”

“Well, that is _not_ true, is it? You already know a number of ways … _out_. That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time, sneaky _boy_. Pushing the boundaries, exploring, trying to find a way to exploit.” She pushed very carefully and his head tilted to the right as her words sank in.

“I have only found _three_.” He admitted.

“Yes, and … so you know them **_all_** then. There are _only three_ ways out of _Heaven_.” She held up her hand in a fist, with her thumb poking out as she began counting. “One …” She waited for him to offer up an answer.

“The Gate.”

“ _The Gate._ ” She repeated with a smile and a nod as she thrust her index finger out for the next one. “Two …”

“The Pool of Rebirth.”

“ _The Pool of Rebirth._ ” Her eyebrow raised slightly and her middle finger came out next. “Three …”

“The Staff.”

“ _The Staff._ Very good, Quintus. You were always an exceptional student.” Taking a drink of her coffee, he waited but she offered nothing more on the subject and his annoyance grew. “Perhaps there was no need for me to answer _that question_ at all then.”

“Wait … _that_ was the question and **_that_** is your answer? You just confirmed what I already knew!!! I …” Hesitation. _Calm your fire._ “I have no body any longer. I have _no shell_. I cannot simply … _return_ to Earth. I would just be a … _spirit_.”

“Quite the riddle, isn’t it?” She chuckled. “ ** _Nothing comes from nothing_** , silly thing. But if you find that confusing, perhaps you might be able to seek out Lavoisier to help you. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” She waved a nonchalant hand around her head.

“I find you are full of _nothing_ but riddles, _Prophet Queen_.” His heart rate elevated slightly as his emotions began to slowly bubble over.

“ ** _Queen_**?” Her eyebrows piqued at the title. “ _Oh ho ho ho no,_ dear boy. I am far from the prophet queen. Count yourself lucky you do not have to have this discourse with _her_. She can be quite nasty and impatient.”

“ _Her_? There are others? Who else is in on this _plot_ with you? How many–”

Ignoring his prying question, she circled back to his previous accusation with complete seriousness. “And I’ve given you nothing but answers. In fact, I’ve been more straightforward with _you_ right now that anyone ever has. And full disclosure here, I’ve been more honest with _you_ than I have been with anyone else on this matter as well.”

“What …” Was she serious? She had done nothing but confuse him. “What is your endgame, _Sandalphon_?” He asked and she grinned with growing amusement as her eyebrow piqued at the question and her index finger flew to her lip to silence his use of her _real_ name. She looked around playfully, as if someone might have heard him, but the giggle in her voice assured him she knew no one had.

“Careful, Quintus. You’ll give it all away! Besides, if you knew what is to come, it would simply change **_everything_**.”

“Or …” He was careful not to play this card yet, but her growing amusement over his ignorance was grating on him. “Perhaps I can simply tell _him_ you are here.”

“A threat? Finally!” She hit the table with her open hand as she giggled at his attempt. “I wondered when you would attempt one, _General_.” The smile was instantly gone. Her hands falling to her cup as she spun it and her eyes growing sad, staring back at him with seriousness. “You can … but we both know you won’t.”

“Provide me with a reason I should not?”

“You already know the reason. Besides, I know you and you are a very poor bluffer. If you were going to tell him, you simply would have, instead of seeking me out first.” Her lips curled up into a sinister smile and he cringed inside, already knowing what she would say. “I know you won’t because … _Our_ Poet.”

Quintus found himself agonizing at the thought of having to share her with _anyone_ else, apparently even her _best friend_. “I find **_your own bluff_** unconvincing. I do not think you would tell him … for _her_ sake.”

“I would not _need_ to _tell_ him anything, Quintus.” She explained. “He can simply _take_ what he wants from me. And trust me … _after my absence_ … I fully expect he _will_.”

“He would do such a thing to you?” He doubted. Having just experienced the rape of his own mind by Michael, he fully doubted Raphael would be so … _intrusive_ , especially to someone he loved. “I doubt–”

“You think he would have to _force_ me? No.” A laugh as she dismissed his statement as foolish yet again. “We have _never_ kept secrets from each other.”

“Until _now_ , you mean?” He pointed out her hypocritical statement immediately.

Biting her lower lip, he could tell he hit a nerve but she shook her head simply and smiled again. The way she addressed him and how she managed to dominate every part of the conversation made Quintus feel _very_ young and her next sentence solidified that lingering thought. “It was my _unwillingness_ to _lie_ to him that forced the need for this … _absence_.”

“Forced?” He mused carefully. “Forgive me, but it seems this was very much _your choice_. Perhaps you do not love him as much as he–”

“Quintus.” Her voice was stern for the first time. “Do not question my _feelings_ or my intentions for _him_. It is hardly _your_ place.”

“No insult was intended.” He eased off of the nerve he had struck, but only slightly. “If I had the choice to _be_ with her–”

“But, did you not?” She interrupted quickly, without hesitation as he stared back in mild confusion. “Did you _not_ have the option to _stay_ with her, **_Quintus_**?”

“I …” He _could_ have stayed, but … “No. There was _no option_. If I had not …” Biting on the word _sacrifice_ , he skipped it. “She would have been in **_danger_**. It was for her that–”

“ ** _Exactly_**.” She sneered. “We are more alike than you realize, _Prince of Snakes_.”

He smiled now as he had pushed her _just perfectly_ enough for her to slip. Perhaps she was not nearly as _all-knowing_ as she wished to let on. “Ah. So this … _all of this_ … is about _him_ , isn’t it?” Unpleased with his prod, she took a silent drink of her beverage as he continued. “He _pines_ for you.” He said plainly. “Each and every time I look upon his face, it is clear _you_ are on his mind.”

“Perhaps _you_ and _he_ are also more alike than you realize. Your face has very much been the same all of these long months.” She stared into the cream colored liquid within the cup and took a slow sip of it. “But … we are not here to speak of _my love_. We are here to speak of _yours_.”

“You’ve been watching me the entire time I’ve been here, haven’t you? I’ve felt you.”

“Oh please. I know it’s _your thing_ , but there’s really no need to be so dramatic.” She laughed at him and his accusations. “You don’t get it, little boy. I don’t _need_ to watch you. I simply already _know_.”

“I don’t have _time_ for these games, _prophet_!” His anger escalated as she smiled wider. If she wished to see _dramatic, he was capable of putting on quite a show when he was properly motivated._

“Quite right! There are very exciting things happening right now, aren’t there?” She raised her hand, snapping her fingers as _everything_ around them came to a complete stop. He’d been able to _slow_ time himself, but he could tell this was a _complete_ halt of it. A Daughter of Time, indeed. “How’s that? We’ve plenty of time now, don’t we? In fact, as much as we want.”

 _Hmmmm._ Her amusement displeased him even more. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it Eleanor?”

“ _Ellie, please_.” She asked again, but she knew he was just baiting her. “In a way, yes. It is a game, but it’s actually not one I get much amusement from, _My Dreamer_.” She look a delicate drink as her eyes looked up, locking onto his with incredible intensity. He shifted ever so slightly, even as he struggled not to. Few had ever been able to make Quintus uncomfortable with a mere _look_. “There were _more possibilities_ than you can possibly understand, Quintus. So many paths that _could_ have been. It was a spider web of chaos. We’ve spent _lifetimes_ … _millenia_ … just sifting through the choices of how it could all play out.”

“And I should care about this for what reason? I _see_ that you seek to manipulate me.” He countered, trying to determine desperately how he could control the conversation, but he understood in _this_ moment … why something as unique and powerful as Raphael was absolutely _stricken_ by her. She was, much like his poet, unlike anyone he had _ever_ met. “You think I will _bend_ to your … **_manipulation_** … Just because you tell me you have _seen it_?! If you–”

“But there is little you can do to change any of it. We are _all_ moving with the currents that were set in motion so long ago.” She mused. “You are more than free to struggle against it, of course. It is well within your nature and I would honestly expect you to act no differently. That was the most difficult part of _all_ of this, in fact, but also what made it possible …”

“I do not appreciate your riddled speech, _prophet_.” He sneered.

“The point is … you _have_ a choice, Quintus. You _have_ free will. If you did not … if _Hayyoth_ did not … none of this would be an issue. The machines would turn as they always have and _God_ would have remained in full control. But …” She smiled. “Where is the joy in that? Where is the _challenge_ in that? Where is the _freedom_ in that?”

“Where is the joy in _order_?” He asked plainly. “Coming from the Wheel within the wheel, I am certain you understand the irony of your words. Do you not represent _Order_ itself? Were you not created to give the Creator foresight?”

“Oh yes. And that is _exactly_ what I have done.” She smiled and he found her increasingly mesmerizing as well as disturbing. Her confidence rattled him to his core because … she already knew exactly what he would say, didn’t she? “But, on some fundamental level, don’t you think that … _coming from_ **_me_** … it should actually hold _more_ merritt? The one who represents order pointing out the very flaws of it?”

“If _you_ are the one manipulating the situation, then is it not still _ordered?_ If you know exactly what is to come, that nullifies your statement of _freedom_ … or _chaos_.”

“Oh my dear _boy_ …” Her smile was one of pride. “ _This_ … this isn’t the _chaos_ of which I speak. This … _you … her_ … all of us, really … This is simply … the _calm_ **_before_** _the storm_.”

“Storm? _She is your storm_ , isn’t she?” He asked, remembering the prophecy instantly. “What is happening right now? What has Michael acting so concerned?”

“While she may be the _flood_ , my boy, but she is _not_ the storm.” Her eyes grew wide with delight. “Oh … and _what an incredible storm it will be_.”

“It all amuses you. Our _pain_. Did you not care for her at all?” He remembered the way that Dawn had spoken of her in front of the _Master_. It was obvious that _his poet_ loved this woman.

Her face grew serious again. “You know … she is different than I expected she would be. I mean, of course I _knew_ who she would be, but knowing is so different from _experiencing_ , isn’t it?” She smiled as she stared down into her cup, eyes rich with pleasant memories. “ _You_ were far easier to direct. You’re _like me, like Ozryel, like Sempronius_. Even though you are a _Dreamer_ , you still crave _order_.”

“Hmmm. Forgive me, but I do not consider myself a … _Dreamer_.” It seemed she had many misconceptions of him.

She ignored the comment. “But _her_ … we could not sit back and just simply _tweak_ things. She has always been … _difficult_.” She spoke the last word with a warm chuckle and Quintus picked up on the true affection that they both shared for _his poet._ “I had to step into her life. Even then, she _proved_ so very … “

The word escaped her for a moment and Quintus offered up the one that came to his mind often when he thought of _her._ “Defiant.”

“Hmmm. More like chaotic. No … **_unpredictable_**.” She corrected. “And on some level, _order_ craves _chaos_. I enjoyed her presence, you see. I _know_ what people will say, what they will do, but she does as well. Any path, any choice … would simply change on a whim and it was … _refreshing_.”

“You _seem_ as if you love her.” He could see it clearly now. There was no deception or manipulation in her words or her tone. There was simply truth. “Yet–”

“Of course I do. You and I have _many_ things in common.” She offered nothing further as she sipped again.

He returned to her previous statement, not letting anything she was disclosing slip through his mental cracks. “You said **_direct_** me?” His lip curled up with annoyance. “You mean _manipulate_?”

“In a way. I prefer to think of it as … _guidance_. Just little things … A small breeze here. One there. A dragonfly. A _volcano_. A dust storm atop a building. A snow storm to blow you off course or … trap you in a tiny cabin …” She grinned devilishly.

“ ** _Do not_** attempt to take responsibility for _my feelings_ for her.” His voice quaked with growing agitation as he warned “I am _not_ your puppet any longer, and neither is _she_.”

“Oh no. We take no ownership of _that_. _Your love is your own_. But the circumstances that thrust you two together … those were well orchestrated, over millenia. And yes, you both are _puppets … just like the rest of us_.”

To hear these things made Quintus uncomfortable to say the least. Had he _never_ been in control? On some level, not being responsible for _anything_ he had done might have been comforting, but it also made him feel _weak_. He felt utterly powerless in _this_ moment, sitting across from a being that terrified him even more than the Traveller did.

“You said _my life_ , but did it stop there? What of _Honoria’s_?” He pushed, wishing to fully understand the extent of the angel prophet’s meddling with his fate. “Sempronius’? Did you _tweak_ their lives as well?”

“Ah …” There was guilt behind her eyes now and she fought the discomfort that these questions caused her. “Honoria’s fate was …unfortunate but _necessary_.”

“It was you then?”

“Us.” She shrugged innocently. “We have _all_ sacrificed, Quintus.”

“What …” He paused briefly as the question that lingered on his dhampir lips terrified him. “Do you know what my life would have been like?”

She simply looked up him for a moment, her eyes deep in thought as he could see her considering whether she should answer this hypothetical question. Finally, she spoke. “ _Boring_.”

“Boring?” Was that all she would say on the matter? “ _Boring_?” His eyes grew wide with torment. “That is it? That is what you give me? _Boring_?!?”

Sighing heavily, she stretched her hand across the table, palm up as she offered it to him again. “Would you care to see?”

 _Hmmm_.

He stared at her hand for a number of seconds before he looked up. “I …” Was he _afraid_ to know this answer? He had _always_ wondered about it, so many long nights alone. If the Master had not _tainted_ him, what kind of life would he have been allowed to live? What would it have been like to be _human_? He shuddered at the _thought_ of actually knowing the answer to _this_ plaguing question.

“Are you afraid, Quintus?” She smiled. “I was almost convinced you were incapable of feeling fear–” The sentence was almost fully out of her mouth when he grabbed her offered hand with vigor.

“I am no coward.”

> **[Parallel and Repeat - Seavera](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F55gdyZ0iP823McuBrFfixz&t=MWU0MDNjYjA2NDJlODlmYzY4ZWQwNjhjM2M4YWRkYmFiMWIzMWY4MiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1) **
> 
> _Feels like a massive evasion_
> 
> _Concrete patent_
> 
> _Palisades are driving through this space_
> 
> _I’m hiding from something_
> 
> _Unsure which one of us I am lying to_

“Exactly.” She chortled and the images flashed before his mind quickly. A mortal would not have been able to understand each scene, but he was far from _mortal_ and he grabbed each one and devoured it carefully. There was no emotional attachment to any of it. It was almost like he was looking through a photo album of someone else’s life.

> _His name. His other name. The one that Sempronius and Honoria would have given him would have been_ **_Cassius_** , _named after Sempronius’ father. His grandfather, whom was dead long before he was born._
> 
> _He would have helped his father in the blacksmith shop until he took over for him fully later in life. His apprenticeship starting when he was barely old enough to walk. He would learn to hold a hammer before even a spoon._
> 
> _He would have been the oldest of four siblings. He would have had two younger brothers and a little sister …_ **_Cecilia_**. _He would have loved her the most and she would have died when she was seven from the measles._
> 
> _He would have broken his leg when he was ten, playing on the boulders by the sea with his best friend Marius … and he would walk with a significant limp for the remainder of his short life. When the military would come to take his younger brothers for war, he would be left behind because of his_ **_disability_** _and he would resent them for he craved adventure. He would long to be … special._
> 
> _He would constantly dream, both when he was awake_ **_and_** _asleep, of herotic journeys in distant lands. He would devour any tales he could find, both myth and factual. Eventually, he would find himself displeased with what was available and he would start creating his own fictional tales, scribbling fables in journals and scrolls, which he would hide under loose bricks in their home._
> 
> _Sempronius would grow angry with him often. Always complaining that his head was in the clouds and he needed to focus on_ **_reality_** , _constantly reminding him how much he regretted teaching him how to_ **_read_**.
> 
> _Honoria would encourage him to use his imagination often. He loved her. She was a good mother until her death when he was fourteen. Sempronius would never remarry and he would never recover from her loss._
> 
> _The stories that Cassius would write would utterly consume him. He would be gone for hours, as he meandered along the shore line and through the forests and down through the plains. He would walk along the main road to the great cities and make up stories about the occupants that rode past him. How he longed for adventure …_
> 
> _One day, he would save enough to go to Rome, excited to finally see the Games of the Colosseum in person, and yet he would grow so sick of the violence immediately that he would leave after only the first match. How could men do this to each other? He would learn that day that fantasy and life were rarely the same._
> 
> _He would marry a lovely woman, Arria, from a good family chosen by Sempronius. He would resent this greatly, showing annoyance over the union to both_ **_her_** _and_ **_his father_**. _It wasn’t that he hated her. She was_ **_beautiful_** , _and he was told on many occasions how_ **_lucky_** _he was, but he would just never grown to_ **_love_** _her. He just found her so very …_ **_boring_**. _She had little imagination, but she was a good wife. She cared for him._

Sandalphon’s choice of words suddenly made sense. _Boring_. He held her hand tighter, letting her give him the next scene.

> _He would hate himself for his childish behavior towards her for the rest of his life when she would die giving birth to his first child, a stillborn daughter, whom he would name_ **_Cecilia_**. _He would bury them in the garden, under his favorite tree …_

Quintus pulled his hand away quickly as he thought about the image of his human self standing above their graves, his face full of agony and torment. Though _none_ of the other memories carried any emotional ties with them, _this_ particular one stung him with familiarity. He found himself breathing carefully as he wrestled with sadness.

“Don’t want to see how it all ends?” She asked, leaving her hand out for him to take again, and he did.

> _He would remarry of course. Drusilla. He would regret even more not being kinder to Arria as he was certain his second wife was sent to him as punishment. She was cruel and heartless. A truly wicked soul. She would bear him several children but he would care for none of them, as they seemed to be more_ **_her_** _than_ **_him_** _and he would constantly find himself questioning whether they were even his._
> 
> _He would work and he would find himself in the brothels nightly, not coming home until the morning on most evenings. This pleased Drusilla, as it was clear she disliked him. She would complain about his_ **_lack of fortitude_**. _She would call him a coward often to antagonize him and he would never argue, not wishing to fuel her crazy outbursts further._
> 
> _This life of responsibility would stifle his soul and eventually he would stop reading. Stop writing. Stop thinking. Stop living. But he would_ **_never_** _stop dreaming and he would never stop_ **_hoping_** … _for something more. For someone more._
> 
> _He would die when he was thirty three of a simple infection. Even with his last living breath, he hoped and he prayed to the gods …_
> 
> _For something more …_

It was over and Quintus pulled his hand away so very slowly as he stared down at the table. Speechless yet again, he replayed the few important scenes over in his mind, again and again. _Boring_. She called it _boring_ and in all of the years in which that _very question_ had plagued every second of his waking life … _boring_ had never crossed his mind at all.

 _Hope_. **This** was where she saw that quality in him first. She was right. _Oh god_. He had hoped, even _now_ , in this form, he had imagined a great number of scenarios of _peace_ and _love_ and _happiness_. He had imagined _not_ being a slave, but being born into a life of wealth and title. He had imagined … goosebumps crawled across his body once again as he looked up into her eyes. _He had imagined …_ just as he did in her flashes.

“You may _choose_ to blame me for your _wretched_ and _tormented_ existence, child, but I gave you what you _begged_ me for … since you were old enough to speak.” She shrugged simply.

“What …” He paused. “What **_I_** begged **_you_** for? You are blaming _me_ for _my own_ fate?”

“All those _dreams_ … waking and sleeping … dear boy. That _longing_ for something so much more. For an adventure to take you away, to _make you something created from fate itself_. You prayed to the gods and we were listening. I was listening. Don’t you see? I _heard_ you. And I gave you **_exactly_** what your heart wished for.”

Was she implying that he had _asked_ for this terrible fate? Good gods. “And what was that exactly?”

“ ** _Incredible purpose._** ” She smiled as she pulled her hand back carefully. “And _someone_ who was _worthy_ of the love hidden away within your beautiful soul.” Her lips pursed together as she chuckled. “A fucking _goddess_ no less.”

“You … think I _asked_ for this?!” He beat his chest once in retaliation to her words. “You think I wanted to be a _monster_? You think _this_ is what I had in mind?!”

“A _monster_?!” She scoffed with utter disgust. “Dear lord, what a overly **_human_** thing to say. Do you not see it? You are made of Ozryel. You are made from _The First Creature in Existence_. You are not a monster, nor have you **_ever_** been. **_I made you a damn demi-god_** , _you fool._ ”

 _Damnation._ The angel revelation had actually put his entire view of himself into question and–

“For what it’s worth, _she_ has _never_ seen a monster either. It matters not what you _look_ like anyways, your _soul_ is still beautiful, no matter how tormented it has been. You cannot change the beauty of _that._.” She drank slowly and he said nothing, so she continued. “I gave you exactly what you asked for, but nonetheless, you are free to hate me if you wish, but you **_chose_ ** this life, **_Cassius Densus_**.”

What he had asked for … _Great purpose_ and even greater love. _His fate_ and _his poet_. This, what he asked for and what he received, was more precious than anything he witnessed in that _possible boring_ alternative life. _His poet_ was so much more to him than _anything_ in either of these lives and he looked deep into her eyes, his nose furrowing with absolute certainty.

## “My name … is **Quintus**.”

“ ** _Exactly_**.” She smirked. “Now. Let that go and never doubt it again, _Dreamer_. Never doubt your path, your choices or your _fate_ , because they have lead you directly _to her_.”

He couldn’t help but sigh heavily as he fiddled with the shell again and again, spinning it in his fingers. This revelation was actually cathartic, as he felt himself letting go of a lingering hatred for everything he was. If he hadn’t been on this path, if the Master hadn’t taken Honoria, he would have lived a truly wretched life. Some part of him felt guilty about embracing this fate because of its heartache on all those around him, but he found himself smiling slightly. “She _is_ a goddess, isn’t she?”

“ _Your_ goddess.” She qualified, glaring at him with a frown. “But, I will be _very_ honest right now. I’ve never approved of a _single_ boyfriend …”

 _Boyfriend?_ Dear gods, were they teenagers? “Do you …” He was taken back suddenly at her sinister glance as he touched his own chest as he leaned back in the metal chair. “Do you not _approve_ of me? You have just admitted that this was all your–”

“Stride carefully.” She warned, squinting at him as she pointed. “I have my eye on you. Just remember. I don’t want to see _any further sleeper holds_ nor spankings unless they are specifically requested.”

 _Dear gods. How did she …_ Embarrassment flushed over his normally stoic face suddenly as he sharply looked down at the shell. “Of course.” His eyes grew wide before a tiny smile crept up in the right corner of his mouth. “However, that implies you think I will see her again.”

“I will _promise_ you one simple thing, _Gladiator_.” She looked at him carefully now, her face full of more sadness than he had seen to date.

“Oh?” He said almost condescendingly. “Only _one_ thing, _angel prophet_?”

“Carry on your current path. Follow your heart. Do not be deterred and I _promise_ you will find your way back to her, but …” Her voice was hesitant and he wasn’t sure if she was purposefully egging him on, but he bit regardless.

“Continue.” It was a demand as his patience grew even thinner.

“She may _not_ be the same person that you left behind, Quintus.” Another nervous spin of the cup as her eyes could no longer stare back into his. Shame overwhelmed her completely as she stared down and her brow furrowed. “She will have been through much–”

“ _May not?_ ” He interrupted quickly, squinting at her with suspicion as he turned his head slightly with the implication of her words. “Everyone changes, do they not? I would expect no less from her.”

“Yes, but–”

“And you think this would _change_ how I feel?”

“Quintus, that’s not what–”

“Perhaps you may not know me as well as you assume then, _prophet_.” The last word was curt, as he spit it lowly, using it as an insult. “It does not matter what she goes through now or how **_you_** think it _may_ change her, because I have already seen into her _soul_ and the beauty of that, _by your own words_ , does not change. I care not for the particulars of her _past_ , her _present_ , or her _future_. I only care that she might forgive what I did to her and welcome me back into her heart. _My love for her is unconditional and_ it is not something I can explain.”

She nodded. “Of course you can’t. [Love, you see, Quintus, is the one force that cannot be explained, that cannot be broken down to a chemical process. It is the beacon that, I am ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[hoping](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[, guides you back to her.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)”

“Since I have arrive, it has _never_ stopped guiding me, _Tall One_.” He explained painfully.

“[And when we find love … no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible … we ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[must](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[ cling to it, it gives us our strength, it holds us upright. It feeds on us and we feed on it](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1).”

“I am well aware of this hunger.” He agreed. “It is … _an insatiable ache_.”

“[Love is our grace, but … love is ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[also](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1)[ our downfall](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.quotes.net%2Fmquote%2F927976&t=NDkxMWRjNWE4ZjIwYTNkNzkwNzcyOTkyYjZjYzJkMWRhM2UyNGI0ZiwxaTg2THRSYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164152077923%2F76-choices&m=1), Quintus.” Her eyes were red with tears and he tilted his head to the right. There was _power_ in this sentence and he understood she was _telling_ him of something to come. She was … _warning_ him of something that concerned her greatly.

“What are you trying to say?” The question was almost begged. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I am urging you to not disappoint me, _Dreamer_.” She said simply. “For it was _I_ that picked _you_. Out of millions of souls, it was yours that I **_knew_** could spark her fire, and how you treat her will rest on _my shoulders_.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We are both _free_ and how we treat each other will be fully on ourselves. When this ends, so will your involvement in both _our futures_ , meddler.”

“Fair enough then.” Another drink and she was done with the coffee finally as she pushed it aside, folding her arms on the table and giving him her full attention. “In any case … I _will_ still be watching you.”

“But …” Something about her warning confused him. “You _know_ the future, do you not? Do you not already _know_ me and what I will do?”

“I …” She locked eyes with him, considering whether to confess the next part to him. “ _We_ cannot see past the start of the _chaos_ , _Dreamer_.”

“So … you are leading us blindly into uncertainty then?” He laughed, but he already seemed to understand that _this_ was the cost of _freedom_ , was it not?

“I’m leading us _all_ into _freedom_ , Quintus.” She peered up, looking for some kind of understanding yet she received none from him. “And I am asking for your help …”

“My help to _destroy_ the order of the world?”

“No.” God, that smile was starting to becoming unnerving to him. “Your help in _cutting_ the puppeteer’s strings.”

“This is ridiculous.” He laughed out loud again. “Do you not see the hypocrisy? Are _you_ not the puppeteer?!”

“Quintus … It is the _only_ way _they_ can be allowed to finally _grow up_.”

“Them? Who?” He asked, unsure of who she was _now_ speaking of.

“ _The Sons of Creation._ Think of this as a forced _coming of age_.”

Tilting his head to the right, he squinted at her with curiosity. “You mean _The Hayyoth_.”

Raising her eyebrow to allow him to know he was correct, she continued. “You were a _father_ , were you not? It is a tempting thing to keep your children with you, close to you, to prevent them from harm, to protect them from pain. But that’s not how you _allow_ them to live. That is _not_ why you gave them life though, is it?”

“No. I suppose not. But this explains _God’s_ absence? To force his sons into maturity? Does he plan to return when this is all finished?”

“That … has been a delicate thing to orchestrate.”

“What is that exactly? Why did he just not _change_ things from where he was?”

“Changing things would have been admitting fault, Quintus. Admitting fault would have been admitting that he was not _infallible_ afterall.”

Quintus understood all at once as everything shifted into place. “You mean God’s ability to remain in control is predicated on the fact that _everyone_ assumes he is _faultless_.”

“How can something that is _all-knowing_ make a mistakes?” She smiled and then qualified his statement. “And it is not just _him_. His _son’s_ ability to remain in control is _predicated_ on the fact that _everyone_ assumes they are _both_ faultless.”

“This game …” Quintus’ eyes narrowed as the next question exited his mouth with disgust. “This _manipulation_ … was all because he could not _admit_ he was … **_wrong_**?”

“And who would follow _a son_ if their father was outed as being a tyrant? Creation would descend into anarchy.”

“This means …” He looked up at her with shock. “God _can_ never return.”

“No. At least not the in the capacity that he did before. Not if he wishes his creation to continue existing …”

“You said a son? Singular? Which _son_?”

“No spoilers, Quintus.” She looked around carefully, eyeing the clock on the cafe wall as she began to slid her chair out. “Look at that, it’s almost time for me to be going.”

“Time? Going?? You’ve _stopped_ time.” He countered but she snapped her fingers as everything began to move again. “You are just going to _leave_? I may require aid–”

“Oh no. After _this_ conversation, my job here is done. I’ve done all my heavy lifting and now it will be up to you to next.”

“Up to _me_? You have given me _nothing_.” She had given him _nothing_ to go forth with. Her answers were riddles and the things she _had_ disclosed would not help him _now_.

“Quite right. I was here to give you _motivation_ , wasn’t I?” She began to walk around the table to leave and he stood, attempting to halt her.

“Motivation?!?” He gasped. “What do you think could _possible_ motivate me more than I already–”

“I’m sorry, Quintus.” She interrupted, touching his shoulder and his mind was overwhelmed at once. Not like it had been when Michael had violated him, but it was the content that he was horrified by. All at once, he felt himself entirely breathless, as he gasped to fully accept what she had given him the moment before she vanished.

His _poet_. It was _her_ face, or it _had been_ her face. It was charred almost beyond recognition, only her lovely spots on the edges were still visible. He recognized the shape of her jaw and her lovely thin lips, but her nose and her _eyes_ were completely missing. Her eyes, those beautiful dragonfly eyes … _were gone_. Just _empty, bloody, charred_ sockets …

Nausea overcame him as he considered if _this_ is what she meant by _Dawn_ no longer being who his remembered, but relief quickly melted his horror away as he watched her face came back info form. The ash of her body still hovering in the air pulled itself back into the face of his _poet_. The flesh restored and healed. Her face now calm but her eyes closed.

Was this just to torment him? Did Eleanor think that this was a joke?!? Did she think that showing him something this horrific would …

Quintus’ legs buckled instantly and he fell to his knees as his _Poet_ opened her _rainbow_ eyes.

## Oh …

##      Gods …

##           No.

* * *

> “Was that _Abyad the White_? Where the FUCK did he just come from?” Gabriel threw his hands in the air, waving them around like a child.

“Can you find him?” Uriel asked the purple-eyed angel, ignoring the large Hayyoth’s aggravated fit.

“He’s …” Raphael closed his eyes, but shook his head. “No. I can’t feel him at all. He’s _hidden_.”

> “And was that just his **_SOUL_**?! WHO FUCKING JUST **_KILLED_** A MARID KING ON EARTH?” Gabriel asked as he screamed into the sky.

“Hidden? What do you mean? You can’t find him anywhere?” Uriel prodded. “Is that even possible?”

“I …” Raphael tried to concentrate but he wasn’t appreciating his old brother’s very loud and very verbal assessment of the situation. As his hand came to his forehead, he closed his eyes tightly, trying to concentrate. “Gabriel, please. No one knows. We are all just as confus–”

> “Wait … where the _fuck_ has he even been all these years?!” Gabriel continued as more things began to dawn on him as the other angels attempted to actually address the concerning situation.

“Can you undo this?” Uriel was straight-faced and logical, asking Raphael and pointing to the ice as the light underneath it steadily grew brighter and brighter, as the souls amassed below its surface

“I …” Raphael took a deep breath. “I can. But, it will take some time though. Closing the gate is always easier than opening it back up. It’s not something–”

> “I THOUGHT ALL THE MARID KINGS WERE ACCOUNTED FOR?!” Gabriel continued and Raphael rolled his eyes, unable to ignore the fit further.

“Gabriel! Please!” Raphael attempted, but the archangel…

> “WHY WOULD–”

“NO ONE KNOWS WHY ANYONE DID ANYTHING YET.” Raphael spoke louder than he had in centuries and Gabriel’s eyes grew wide with shock as he fell silent.

“Actually …” Uriel spoke up. “That’s probably not true, is it? If anyone knows what Michael–”

“Yes.” Raphael squinted, reading the thought from Uriel’s mind before he had even finished speaking it. “Go ask _her_ then and I’ll start on this.” Uriel was gone and Raphael sat on the sand with his legs crossed as he closed his eyes and began to work on the ice, his divinity darkening to a _deep purple_ as it began to crawl out over the frigid surface.

“Wait … ask who? Her who?” Gabriel threw his hands up again. “What the fuck should I do?!?”

“Go help Uriel.” Raphael offered, but as soon as he said it, Uriel was already back and Raphael opened his eyes.

“Did she sent you away _so quickly_?” Raphael said, trying not to pull his attention away from the ice.

“She’s … ” Uriel said quietly. “… Gone.”

“Who’s gone?!?” The giant angel was quickly losing all patience. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?!”

Raphael was already on his feet, dusting off his robe as his face became contorted with further concern. “Ozryel.”

“Wait … what?” Gabriel was suddenly much quieter as he whispered lowly, looking around suspiciously. “Like … _not in her cell anymore gone?_ ”

“ ** _Fuck_**.” Raphael cursed and both of the other angels fell entirely silent as they eyed each other. The same thought flying across their minds in unison: Did Raphael just … _curse_?

“Uh … “ Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. “What do we do now? Should I prepare the army?”

“With what?!?” Raphael turned and looked upon his brother with absolute absurdity. “He has the _Horn_ , Gabriel!”

“Oh … yeah.” The massive angel scratched his head. “That.”

“He has the _Horn_. He has the _Staff_. He has the _Ring_ and he has the _Blade_.” Raphael took a deep breath. “And he may also have the _Angel of Death_.”

“But …” Gabriel stuttered. “… **_Why_**?”

This was the first question that he had asked that was really relevant and Raphael’s anger faded to concern. “I don’t know, _brother_. But, right now … I need to fix _this_ problem firs–”

“Ahem.” It was a small cough and all three angels turned in unison to face Puriel and Dukiel.

“Oh for fuck’s sake … what is it now?” Gabriel spat at their shocked faces.

“We can’t find the Governor, and …” Puriel began.

“Yeah! Ya think!?” The massive angel laughed loudly.

“GABRIEL. PLEASE.” Raphael’s hand went back up to his forehead as he shook it with aggravation.

“And what? What is it?” Uriel pushed them to proceed.

“There is a … _disturbance_ …” Dukiel scratched the back of his neck. “At the Pool of Rebirth. We can’t seem to get inside to see what’s happened either.”

“What the fu–” Gabriel began.

“What type of disturbance?” Uriel interrupted, but Raphael was already looking off in the distance, pawing through the nexus as he gleaned the nature of the _disturbance_.

“It’s Quintus.”


	55. Visual Aid - Teaser

Eat your beautiful little hearts out, Strain Fandom.

## A very, _very_ special traditional art commission for Straining for Originality by Dark Horse’s VERY OWN Mister Quinlan Comic Artist, [Edgar Salazar](https://www.instagram.com/edgarsalazarart/), himself.

 _**This makes it canon, right?** _ ****


	56. Interlude 7 - Between the Essence and the Descent

**[Missing (Round Remix) - The xx](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7t1RWBT65zCXFWJJbSB8h2&t=NzA1Zjc4ZDJkYjczMWFmYzJhNTRkYjBlNDE2ZWE5ZWI0NDNmYmRkMyxscFJxMVF3dw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164571128438%2Finterlude-7-between-the-essence-and-the-descent&m=1)**  

> _My heart is beating in a different way_
> 
> _Been gone such a long time and I feel the same_
> 
> _My heart is beating in a different way_
> 
> _Been gone such a long time_
> 
> _Will you miss me? (I, I, I, oh)_
> 
> _When there’s nothing to see? (I, I, I, oh)_
> 
> _Tell me, how did this come to be? (I, I, I, oh)_
> 
> _And now there’s no hope for you and me_

Her eyes opened slowly and the soft light of the fire penetrated her unprepared irises. At first, she had a hard time remembering exactly where she was, but as the room came sharply into focus, her memory cleared. She was _here_ with _him_. She could see the outline of the back of his bald skull against the flame’s dancing light. He was close, shielding her face from the direct glow.

She was still laying across the couch, with the scratchy blanket tucked around her carefully on all sides. He was sitting on the ground, with his back pushed up against the cushions, staring quietly at the fire. Perhaps it was the unknown amount of time she had been asleep or perhaps it was the even darker light sneaking past the windows, but she panicked. Her heart raced with thunderous beats as the worst scenario came to her mind.

_Had she slept their whole day away?_

Sitting up on the couch, her hand came to her chest, clutching the uncomfortable blanket tightly there, her heart revolting against any and all calmness. He was already turning around, his face contorted with concern as he reached out to her in her overly confused state, pulling himself up onto the cushion beside her.

“ _Oh my god!_ ” She began, her face was pinching into further agony. “How long was I asleep?! _Oh fuck!_ What time is it?! WHY DID YOU LET ME SLEEP?! Why would you–”

“Stop.” He tried to remain collected as he eased fully onto the couch and touched her frantic hand, which still clutched the blanket tightly to her chest. “ _Not long_. **_Not long_**.” He tried to assure her, but the tears erupted from her dragonfly eyes without further warning.

“Why did you let me sleep?!” Her panic incited his own as he wrapped his arms around her, in an attempt to dampen her distraught fit.

“You did not sleep long.” He pulled her close, knowing that his words would do little to ease the panic, but hoping that his embrace might appease both of them. “ ** _Please_** … _not long_ …”

“You shouldn’t have let me …” Her desperation was clear as she buried her head into his neck. “I …” She swallowed deeply. “What _time_ is it? How long was–”

“Not long. We _still_ have time.” He promised, understanding why she would express such panic. “ _We still have time_.” They still had … _some time_. Returning the gesture, he buried his head deeply into her neck and he fought his own anguish, breathing her in deeply as he crushed her in his muscular arms. “I would not have let you sleep for _long_.”

“I–” She began again as he pulled back to interrupt her with his lips, pushing them against her mouth with gentle confidence, diffusing the anxiety at once.

He pushed his forehead against hers, smiling slightly. “It really was not long. I swear it.”

“Don’t let me fall asleep again.” She demanded with seriousness and he couldn’t help himself as he brought his thumb up to the furrowed skin between her eyebrows, attempting to rub the concerned wrinkles away.

“I did not wish to wake you.” He explained as his thumb trailed down the bridge of her nose, stopping at the tip of it for a moment, before continuing its path over her lips and down to her chin before he tilted her face up to receive the next chaste kiss from his warm, thick lips. “You were so … _peaceful_.” The last word escaped his mouth with a bit of a chuckle.

“Wait … ” She asked, tilting her head slightly with curiosity, and calmness finally replacing her panic. “ _Why’s that funny?_ ”

“Well …” His smile only grew as she saw something in his expression she had seldom seen before. Was he … _embarrassed to tell her_? “You are one of the least _peaceful_ people I have _ever_ known.”

This was quite a statement, coming from him of _all_ people and she frowned at it. “Is this where you tell me I’m not _kind_ again?” She scrunched her nose in displeasure.

“Peace and kindness are _not_ mutually exclusive. But … Peaceful … ” He defined as he brushed the hair from her face, tucking each side carefully behind her ears so that he could fully appreciate her unique features. “Is being free from disturbance … being _tranquil_. And you …” He touched the very end of her nose gently with the tip of his index finger. “Are far from _tranquil_. You …” Kissing the nose where he had just touched it, he purred. “… are made of _fire_.”

“I’m always told to _smolder_ it.” She admitted, remembering Hathų’s constant instruction for her to _calm her fire_. “I’m _told–_ ”

“Told? Being _told_ something and _obeying_ are two very different things.” He chuckled as he inched closer, tugging at the blanket that she still clutched to her chest. “And I have noticed that you _rarely_ obey.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Her question was genuine.

“Absolutely not.” He admitted.

“I can be … “ Biting her lip in frustration, she argued further. “ ** _Tranquil_**.”

“Says the **_woman_** …” He rattled as his lip turned up in a playful grin. “Who _successfully_ Duct Taped me to a bed and pointed a sniper rifle at my face when we first met.”

“Hey!” One of her hands freed itself from clutching the blanket as she pointed an accusatory finger towards his face. “You tried to _bite_ me. That was _all_ on you, buddy.”

“Oh yes. And … it was very **_well deserved_**.” His fingers touched her chin, sliding down her neck as the tips grazed her scar gently. _Her scar?_ It was also _his_ scar, wasn’t it? Where he had _violated_ her in their first moments together. “And … I have _rarely_ received punishment that my often **_wicked_** behaviour deserved.”

Wait, was that last part a … _compliment_? She considered for a moment, staring at his amusement as he pawed through the memories of their first meeting. His eyes never left the scar as his smile faded slowly and he leaned in, pressing his lips to it gently. They had promised _no apologies_ , and though he verbalized nothing, she could _feel_ it in his action. Pushing him back to stare into his ice-blue eyes, she shook her head at his action. “Stop.”

“Mmmmm.” He nodded with hesitant compliance as a devilish grin curled up the right side of his mouth and his eyebrow piqued slightly. “Very well. Where would you prefer me to kiss you then?”

She might have answered with a cute gesture to her lips, but his eyes were already floating downwards as he bit into his lower lip enticingly, tugging again at the scratchy blanket as he hoped to expose her. Understanding his implication, her face grew flush with embarrassment. “Oh … No. No.”

“No? Truly **_no_**?” His obvious disappointment only further fueled her blush. “Was it that terrible? Did you find it that … _inadequate_?”

“No … I … “ Could she have gotten more flustered? Was it even possible? She could feel the blush spread from her cheeks to her entire body. Yes, apparently it _was_ possible. “No, it’s a …”

“It’s a _what_?” He watched her with curiosity as her eyes grew wide. Tilting his head to the right, he pried further. “I have already seen it all … Quite closely, in fact.”

“A mess down there. _And_ I was distracted before … ” She made wide circles with her free hand, pointing to her lower half. “I haven’t shaved in … “ _Oh Jesus Christ… months?_ Her face grew **_redder_** still. “You really don’t want to …” The expression on his face clearly told her that he did know exactly what he wanted.

 

* * *

 

“You should not presume to know what _I_ want.” If he could not pull the cover away, then he would simply need to find another way around. When his hidden hand intruded under the bottom of its edge and touched her leg from under the blanket, she jumped with considerable shock. “I can easily distract you _again_ then …”

“Whoa! Hey!” Recoiling from him, he smiled and thrust his hand deeper, trying to touch the flesh of her thigh hiding beneath. “Don’t. _I’m serious_ … I … ”

“Ah … I see.” He pouted, pulling back from her to imitate a false sense of rejection. The seeds of his manipulation were planted sneakily as he thrust his bottom lip out to her with lying words “Then you _did_ find me inadequate.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s me. It’s just–” He nearly _had_ her, but the smile creeping over his own mouth gave away his game as he found it impossible to remain serious in this fib. Seeing his miniature grin, she shook her head at him with frustration. “ _You ass!_ ” She huffed and tried to push his hand away more violently this time, and he took increased show of force as permission to finally use his greater strength to strip the cover away completely as an uncharacteristic enthusiastic chuckle escaped his normally stoic face.

He presumed to know what she would do in response, but he was wrong. He also assumed she was as weak as she used to be, but he was wrong about that as well. He fully expected her to cower back against the pillows of the couch and attempt foolishly to shield herself from his lustful eyes with her small hands, but instead, she propelled herself off the couch, in a mad grasp for the flying blanket as he chucked it down to the ground in front of the fireplace. In her eagerness to retrieve the cover, she hit his shoulder and sent him sliding off the couch and to the ground with a thud as he gasped. “ ** _Ooof_**!”

 _Good gods_. He hesitated for a moment, but his grin only grew wider as the chase was on and she scrambled across the scratchy carpet, desperately grabbing for the cover and he pursued her on all fours with an eager and hungry rattle.

Grabbing her right ankle, he firmly tugged her back towards him several inches and he heard her giggling in response. Her own amusement motivated him even further to halt her escape. “No! STOP! No! Quintus!”

Perhaps it was his overconfidence, or the distraction of her bouncing curves, or even the fact that neither of them have yet to understand the changes that were taking place in her body at a cellular level. Whatever the reason, he was shocked again, left confused for a fraction of a moment as she pulled her ankle _out_ of his preternatural grip, making one last lunge for the discarded blanket and succeeding.

 _Perhaps_ … he should have been disappointed in his inability to keep her restrained. In any other place, at any other time and with any other person, he would have scolded himself for _failing_ this simple task, but as he crawled the rest of the way to her, atop that scratchy blanket, he found himself enamoured with her in a way he could not fully express, other than taking her face between his palms and kissing her long _and_ hard.

“Mmmmm.” He had to remind himself to breath. “I have waited …” He purred with growing enticement into her sweet mouth as he thrust his tongue into its welcoming depths. “… so very long …” Another kiss. Another breath. Another purr. As he pulled her up to her knees to face him, he did the same. “… _for you_.”

The excitement of the chase and his surprising defeat ignited him again and his intention was clear as he tried to push her gently back onto the ground. Denying the action, she looked at his lips as she spoke. “Wait … _Again_? Aren’t you _done_ yet?”

“Done?” He asked innocently, knowing full well what she was asking.

“Aren’t you …” Biting her lip, he watched her search her memory for the _right_ word to use. Searching for the word that _he_ specifically had used. “ _Satiated_? Don’t you need to … _recharge_? How can you still want _more_ from me?”

“Oh _libellula_ , have you not realized yet?” Her body vibrated with the same lingering desire for indulgence as his and he took a deep breath of it in. “ _I can never be fully … satiated_. I have _few_ humanly limitations and trust me when I say that this is _not_ one of them.” Another breath of her earthy scent mixed with her moisture caused him to rattle. “I am suspecting that _you_ have few as well.” He took another deep sniff of her surrounding her body, causing her to pull back with a giggle. Her laugh intoxicated him as his eyes rolled back into his head. “As you are _very clearly_ not **_satiated_** either.”

“I …” She stuttered, considering his words. He watched her mulling them over with her quiet mind, but she shook her head, pulling back from him slightly. “I could still use a _break_.”

“Hmmm. Very well then.” He sat back onto his backside with a frustrated sigh. “I shall give you a reprieve … for now, _but_ … ” He pulled at the blanket playfully again. Why must she _hide_ herself from him always? “Remove this. Please.”

“It’s a mess … I … I’m not … _perfect_.” She admitted painfully as if it was some deep dark secret that she had kept to herself for _years_ and _years_ and his brow furrowed at the strange confession.

“No one is _perfect_.” He laughed out loud but his reaction only caused her to clench the blanket tighter. Perhaps a different angle might soothe her concerns then. He had never actually dealt with someone, that he found _so pleasing_ , _so ashamed_ to show themselves to him. Afterall, his own _imperfections_ vastly out-weighed her perceived ones, did they not? “Perfection is a _state_ without _flaw_.” He tried to explain the absurdity of her words. “And _flaws_ are _entirely_ subjective, Libellula.”

“No.” She countered, but he knew she would. “Flaws are actually very well defined by _society_.”

“Exactly. And societies come and go, as does their twisted rules for _perfection_. It may have taken me several lifetimes, but I find myself beyond their realm of changing influence. I prefer to make my _own_ choices about _beauty_.” He smiled. “As I’ve now accepted _you_ do as well. You do find me acceptable … do you not?”

“Yes, but–”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Trust? Why is it about _trust_?”

“You refuse to hear my words, then the assumption I have to draw is that you think I am lying.” These words had little effect on her so he changed his strategy _again_. “And while I find _nothing_ flawed about your physical presentation, I do find self-deprecation incredibly unattractive.” This was definitely the _wrong_ strategy and he regretted it the instant the ill-thought words escaped from his mouth as her face fell into sorrow. _Damnation._ “Are you _that_ obsessed with _beauty_?”

“I’m not _obsessed_.” Now _she_ was the one who was pouting, although he understood this wasn’t a manipulation of him. His words had cut her.

“Very well. Then how about … _conditioned_?” He asked plainly. “For if this is so important to you, then why should I accept _your_ words to _me_ on this very subject? You told me I was beautiful … Was it a lie?” He knew it wasn’t, but he was trying to make a succinct point.

“So … you’re saying you like hairy women?” She asked with amusement and he could tell she was attempting to defuse the seriousness of the discussion, but he chose not to allow her to change the subject. _Not yet_. There was something broken within her that he needed to fix. “The hairier the better???”

“Lu–” He began to use the new nickname that she despised so much and he caught himself halfway through the word as she squinted furiously at him. “I have always found the sexualization of children to be distasteful.” He answered.

“Children? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” She scoffed. “I’m **_not_** a child.” She scrunched her nose at his words.

“No. You are _not_ and that is the very point I am attempting to convey. You are _not_ a child, you are _not_ a girl; you are a _woman_.”

“You don’t understand, it’s not about–”

“It _is_ about being perceived as a child. Do you really not realize that? It is _exactly_ that, in fact. For someone normally so observant, I am disappointed in your inability to recognize your own _compliance_ to domination.”

His words cut her again as her brows furrowed further. “I’m _not_ … compliant.”

“Consider it.” His face was completely serious. “The unnecessary and forced removal of feminine body hair has always been a clever method of infantilizing women. It is a subversive fetishization to keep you _naive and submissive_. To keep you perceived as _childlike_. Even now it works against your confidence. If you are _not_ a child, then why do you wish to don the body of one?”

“It’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to worry about it.” She smoothed her hand over his bare chest. “You’re so smooth. I envy–”

“ _Easy for me to say?_ Even to the Romans, masculine hair was seen as a symbol of virility.” He confessed, touching his hairless chin as he spoke, his hand sliding up and touching his bald head next. “And baldness … I assure you, was quite the _opposite_ of their standards of _masculinity_. Of all the peoples that I have lived amongst, the _Romans_ were the most obsessed with this _fallacy_ of **_perfection_**.”

Reaching out, he expected her to touch his chin where he had just shown his own failings as a man, but she touched the scar that ran down his left cheek instead and the action was unexpected as he recoiled with more force than intended. Her reaction was understandable, as she pulled her hand back to her chest, her eyes wide with shock over his retreat. He knew the words that nearly escaped her lips, “I’m so s–”

“No.” He calmed himself instantly before pressing his finger against her mouth to prevent the apology. “ _No_. It was not my intention to react as I did. That was … _instinct_.”

“I didn’t mean–”

He pressed his finger against her lips more firmly and retrieved her withdrawn hand, pulling it and turning it to lay her soft fingers back across the damaged skin of his face. He had _never_ reacted so defensively to any of her touches as he did to this one. Not even when she had tickled his most delicate swirled neck. Closing his eyes tightly, he left her hand there as he calmed his own fire and allowed her to explore the crevice timidly.

As he fought every impulse to recoil from it again, he focused on something to distract his growing anxiety, remembering when his own fingers had explored the badges of torture riddled across her own back. Much like she was doing, he had run the tips of his fingers across her scars when she’d exposed her _pain_ to him on that couch and now he would allow her to do the same.

“How did it happen?” Her voice shook him from his thoughts and he opened his eyes and stared back into her inquisitive face. Her fingers touched the scar across his chin next. It was easier to resist flinching as he stared back into her eyes.

“The Master.” He answered.

“I thought you healed though. How can you scar?”

“His claws burn my flesh as silver does. Silver _always_ scars.”

Her fingers travelled up to the two tiny scars above his temple. “These too?”

“Do you wish to _scrutinize_ me, dragonfly?” The wording was flat in execution, but his expression was pure curiosity. “To … _inspect_ me?”

“No. No. No.” She stuttered as she pulled her hands back from his skin and he sighed from her retreat. “I was just curious. I didn’t mean to to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“There is little discomfort in discussing these things for me any longer nor do does your scrutiny cause me _any_ amount _shame_.” He looked at her carefully, taking her hand and putting it against his scarred cheek again before nodding in compliance with his own thought. “Come. Up.”

#### Jaw dropping Quinlan by [@quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/)

#### See full NSFW Version [HERE.](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/165619650300/instagram-post-by-morgana-alexander-sep-22-2017)

**[Reunion - The xx](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2B4p8xjpBFP8ZinAtewfrB&t=YjZjMTgzNWU3MTc4YjUzMWU0ODJmNTAwMmVlM2ZiMDEwNTQzMTI3YyxscFJxMVF3dw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164571128438%2Finterlude-7-between-the-essence-and-the-descent&m=1)**  

> _We visit a life we both left behind_
> 
> _Ignore the heart_
> 
> _Move to the ever-moving_
> 
> _Or, blazin’, we go over_
> 
> _And over and over and over again_
> 
> _If I wait too long_
> 
> _I’ll lose you from my sight_
> 
> _Maybe tonight_
> 
> _I could stop dreaming_
> 
> _And start believing in forever_
> 
> _And ever and ever and ever again_

Coming to his feet, he offered a hand down to her and aided her in joining him in standing. Her blanket still clenched tightly to her chest. “I have accepted that I am what I am. What I _can_ and _cannot_ be. I embraced that _long ago_. So, ask your questions. Any and all you wish. _Scrutinize me_ , but know that if I comply, it will be your turn next.”

He wondered if she would take his offer, given her reaction to merely removing the blanket from her legs and he was honestly shocked when she nodded yes to his proposal. Taking a large step back from her, he moved his arms out a few inches from his body, turning his palms up, waiting for her to _scrutinize_ him as many had done before. Taking her hand, he encouraged her to walk her around him.

She took an entire revolution before stopping in front and touching one of the scarred bullet holes left from the sniper in _her_ factory. “It was silver.” She stated and he nodded, repeating after her. “It was _silver_.” She touched another one of them and then another. He had been _riddled_ that night and each hole had left a scar behind.

She made another half circle before stopping at his back and touching the area where he had been shot while they were stealing the tank. It was entirely free of any indication that a wound had ever been present. _That was not silver._

Waiting patiently, he felt her fingers touch the mangled skin of his back, her fingertips delicately stroking one of his lash marks, just as he had done to her.

“Silver?” She asked and he nodded. “They _whipped_ you with … _with silver_?”

“Yes. Many times.” His eyes darted down to try and catch some glimpse of her face out of his peripheral vision, but he could not see her expression yet he remained still as her eyes continued their investigation.

He actually expected some amount of discomfort, but he felt none as he surrendered to it completely. _In fact, he loved it_. It was almost exhilarating to be so exposed to her in this instant. “They learned it _burned_ me. They learned it …” He had never spoken these things out loud. _Never_. Not to Ancharia, not even to Tasa. It would have been an admission of weakness, but he _knew_ she was not judging him for that. “ _They learned I would obey if they used silver. They learned I_ **_only_** _obeyed when they used silver._ ”

“Defiant, were you?” She said plainly from behind, her voice understanding and her hand exploring the next lash mark and then the next.

“Quite.” He agreed. “I believe you had the same problem … no?”

“Who were they?”

“Ones who saw an opportunity to put a _monster_ on display for profit.” He resisted the urge to turn and face her. “Ones that did not live long past my freedom …” Not even Ancharia knew this fact.

“You were their _property_?” She queried as she explored further. “Their … _slave_?”

“Yes.”

Her voice wavered at the question. “Why would you even allow it?”

“I was young, weak. I was _simple. Naive_.” He shrugged. “I have been a _slave_ many times. I promised myself I would _never_ be again … but here I am … again. I have come full circle.”

She moved back to the front to face him, confused by his words. “What does that even mean?”

“ _I am yours._ ” A tilt of his head as he spoke sent a twitch down his body. Patience was his weapon now and he stared into her face with utter seriousness as his words shook her. “And _you_ are _mine_.”

Reaching up to touch the two scars on his temple, he lowered his head to allow her easier access from her short stature. “And these?”

“ _Spiculus_.” He said simply.

“Gesundheit.” She responded, finding his response strangely like a _sneeze_ and he caught himself grinning foolishly. _Damn this woman._

“He was a man. _A Gladiator_. An excellent fighter.”

“You respected him?”

“Very much so.”

“Did you _kill_ him?” The question was timid as he could tell she didn’t wish to know the answer.

“Yes.”

She walked around him again and then again before stopping in front, unsure how to proceed next, so he aided her. “Your assessment?” He asked and her eyes grew wide as she shrugged simply, not understanding his question. Retrieving her free hand, leaving the other to clutch her blanket foolishly, he placed her palm on his chest and moved it from his pectoralis major to his shoulder. “I am tall. Strong. Muscular.”

“Mmm hmmm.” She was blushing and he loved it. _Gods_ he loved the way she looked at him. Even from the moment she pulled back her hood, when he was shot and dying on the ground before her, he _loved_ the way she looked at him.

“My shoulders are wide. Manual labor in a mine or a farm. Perhaps construction for the buildings or the aqueducts?” He moved her hand over his bicep, then back to his torso, over his abdominals and around his hip. “But I am also a skilled fighter. A guard perhaps?”

“What about _cooking_?” She playfully asked.

“Cooking?” That was hardly the response he expected and he cocked his head to the right as he asked the question with absurdity laced in his voice. “You would wish to use me for _domestic_ duties? That would be an immense waste of my talents.”

“So no? No laundry? Vacuuming? Dishes?” She teased as she walked around behind him and her hands cupped his right cheek. “Or maybe … _other domestic duties_?” His head rolled in reaction to it and his smile widened further as he enjoyed the confidence she was feeling.

“I am quite skilled in …” He nearly lost his train of his thought as he felt her hand gently swat his left cheek next. “Hmmm … **_Obviously_** , I am also _quite_ skilled in that arena if you so wish it.” His hand caught hers and pulled her back in front, to face him. It took every ounce of his willpower to not smile as he brought her hand between his legs and wrapped her fingers around himself. “Although, I am clearly _too large_ to be used for _that_ purpose.”

“Too …” Her face contorted with confusion as she coughed out the word with disbelief. “ _Large?_ ”

“ _This_.” He tightened her grip around him as he struggled to remain flaccid and she blushed further, clearing her throat. “ _My size_ was considered quite … **_undesireable_**. [Cultural values](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.howtotalkaboutarthistory.com%2Freader-questions%2Fwhy-do-all-old-statues-have-such-small-penises%2F&t=MGUwYWMwNTAwOTRhYWIwMDFjYTZlNjdiNzcxOWU4MWVhOTM4NzRmZixscFJxMVF3dw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164571128438%2Finterlude-7-between-the-essence-and-the-descent&m=1), dragonfly. Always changing societal _whims_.” He reminded her. “We are all flawed in someway … from someone’s perspective … ” He released his grip on her hand and there was a brief hesitation before she removed it from his body.

“You’re being serious?” She balked at his statement and he nodded. “Well … **_obviously_** I don’t agree with their … _standards_.”

“And there we are …” He purred, resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair that had fallen across her eyes and resisting the urge to get aroused. He was still on display, awaiting her assessment and he would need to act accordingly. “Our conversation comes full circle, does it not?” Quite pleased with the smile this brought her, he rattled.

But the grin was short lived as she quickly brushed it off, playing up the role that he had placed her in. “So, how much would you have been?”

“My price? How much would I have _cost_?” He asked for qualification and she nodded. “I can give you the exact amount, but it would have little meaning out of context.”

“Ok.” She pouted and he disliked it when she was unpleaesd with him, causing him to roll his head in annoyance.

“While I had obvious deficiencies in their eyes … lack of hair, stained, and deformed teeth … my _ears_ , my scars, my white skin, my _size_ ….” He grinned as the last word escaped with another rattle. “My _attitude_ , my _inability_ to breed, my aversion to the sun.” He could have gone on with the list of _flaws_ the Romans made him feel he had, he digressed. “But while I was perceived as quite _flawed_ , I was still an oddity and … oddities fascinated their _beauty-obsessed_ culture. I fetched a _very_ high price.”

A moment of awkwardness followed as he assumed she was staring at a spot on his chest. She was delaying, not wishing to move and he knew her distress stemmed from it being _his turn_ now. “Are you finished?” He waited patiently as she continued to stare at the same spot. “Is your assessment complete?” _Silence_.

“Then, it is my turn …” Reaching out for her, she took a deep step backwards from him. It was clear she was not actually staring at any spot _on him_ , but rather beyond him, lost in the depths of her own thoughts. She was weighing something deep in her mind and he sighed as her nervousness was made it clear to him. “I take it … you wish to _decline_ reciprocation then?”

“I … No. I said I would …” She began but he shook his head. He wasn’t disappointed, per se, but he was more saddened. He felt that her eyes on his scar-riddled, odd body was liberating and by denying him the same, she was denying herself that freedom.

“I will not _force_ you.” He turned, spying his underwear discarded on the ground to the right of her, just beyond the edge of the rug and he stepped towards it to reclothe himself. “However … I will _remember_ this, the next time a _deal_ is struck.”

“Hey … You haven’t even followed through on _your_ end of the _first_ deal yet …” Uttering the words to him made her blush severely and he could read her as clear as day in this moment. He chuckled lowly with a meandering rattle, realizing how much power he actually had over her. “We could … _We could just call it even?_ ”

 _It had been a bluff. It had all been a bluff!_ He laughed out loud again.

Telling him that she wished to watch him touch himself had been a _bluff_. She had hoped he would release her from his own request to watch her but now, here they were, locked in a verbal agreement. He _could_ offer her an out right now. He _could_ , but something about her own embarrassment over the pending action sent excitement rushing over his body.

Should he be ashamed that his growing desire was quite obvious to her when her eyes darted down to his member? _No._ He would _not_ be ashamed, nor would he allow her an _out_ , as it was clear he had the power here.

“No.” He was forceful. “ _I always keep my word, Libellula._ ”

“No, you don’t have–”

“Where do you want me?” He interrupted, feigning submission to her, knowing that this was _entirely_ in his power to stop. “Here?” He pointed to the couch before turning back to face her fully, exposing himself and his _growing_ intention. “Or do you want me standing?”

“Quintus …” She covered her mouth to hide her timid giggle, her eyes darting up into his face immediately to avoid looking at the rest of his … _body_. “You don’t have–”

“I said I would and I _always_ keep my word. Besides, you should be aware of the consequences of your actions … _and promises_.” _Silence_. “Now, what do you wish for first? My assessment of _you_ or your gratification from watching me? I will leave the ordering up to you.” Sweet and agonizing hesitation as he listened to her heart beat faster. “Regardless … either way … it matters now.” He purred, closing the distance between them. “But the blanket comes away **_now_**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This interlude is long overdue and it was incredibly hard to write. I’d written ½ of it months ago and knew exactly where I wanted to go with it, but the last couple of episodes was a punch to a the gut and I nearly scrapped the entire idea.
> 
> I wish I had gotten this out before the flashback scenes, as now it just sounds more preachy than lovely and touching, as it was actually intended. If anyone has read my Part 1, Beauty, its perception and its recognition, was an on going theme. It was actually one of the most important underlying messages, in fact. The battle between self doubt vs. beauty. Love vs. lust. Society vs. the individual. Sadly it is all convoluted now.
> 
> With that being said, I actually think the makeup scene with Quinlan reinforces his distaste for it within my fic, especially now when he tells Dawn that she looked like ‘a clown’ when wearing it.
> 
> For those who find its message ‘preachy’, it is foolish to think that a millennia old vampire would simply conform to the ridiculousness of today’s beauty standards without having formed an opinion of his own over all his long years. I chose to see Mr. Quinlan in a more mature manner than someone who simply … conforms.


	57. 8.1 - Revelations

**[Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F73NbHgUZ51H65Bfo2HFKUi&t=NTZhY2JjZTViMmFmNDQ4Yjg5ZjBjNTQ5NTRmODRhOTEzYjUyMjJmZSxiMmViOG1tYg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164690605128%2F81-revelations&m=1)**

> _Everybody waiting for the fall of man_
> 
> _Everybody praying for the end of times_
> 
> _Everybody hoping they could be the one_
> 
> _I was born to run, I was born for this_
> 
> _Whip, whip_
> 
> _Run me like a racehorse_
> 
> _Pull me like a ripcord_
> 
> _Break me down and build me up_
> 
> _I wanna be the slip, slip_
> 
> _Word upon your lip, lip_
> 
> _Letter that you rip, rip_
> 
> _Break me down and build me up_

The fire crackled in the distance and as she made her way back to it, she could hear them talking, but the exact language was unknown to her.

 ** _Them_**.

Her best friend. The Corrupter. _Her sisters. Her family. Her conspirators …_

As she finally breached the tall grass line, they turned and Ellie smiled. “Welcome back.”

“You’ve been waiting here this whole time?” Dawn asked but Lilith laughed out loud at her question, making certain with the tone of the laugh that the question was _absurd._

“Silly girl. How many times must I explain this? Time is not _linear_. At least … not to **_us_** …” Giving the explanation as she stood, picking up two thick sticks from the ground. “You have only been gone a minute or so to us.” Her words were laced with utter disappointment as she turned to face Ellie again, thrusting her hands up to show annoyance. “Are you sure she is _as smart_ as you claim? I am not seeing it yet.”

_Ew. Rude._

Dawn sneered at Lilith and her snide remarks, but she bit back the desire to tell her to go fuck herself and instead took the high road. “Right. ‘ _Time_ ’.”

“Don’t worry … you’ll get the hang of it.” Ellie promised her new _little_ sister, as she watched Lilith approach her from the other side of the fire.

“So … _what now then_? Gonna try to _manipulate_ me again?” Dawn asked with scorn.

Lilith answered as she threw one of the Bo staffs to her. “Now, little prophet …” She said with excitement. “ _Now we_ **_train_** _you._ ”

Plucking it out of the air with ease, she immediately used the weapon to counter Lilith’s attempted strike at her head. Grinning madly as the years of Uriel’s training remained within in her memory, she shook her head at the lame attempt.

“I don’t think I need _your_ training, or don’t you _know_ that yet?” It was rude, but she didn’t care. She was reciprocating Lilith’s attitude, as she grew tired of them and their meddling. “I’ve been trained by _Uriel_ now.” She scoffed but in her overconfidence, she had missed something _very_ important in Lilith’s simple response.

 _Now_ **_we_** _train you …_

As another staff connected with the side of her jaw, she crumpled to the ground, her face connecting with the dirt. Forcefully expelling all of the air from her lungs as she hit with a hard thud. Blood trickled from her mouth as she pulled herself up to all fours, rocking back to glare at the woman who had sneaked behind her while she was distracted with being rude to the Corrupter.

“Are you sure?” Ellie cracked a sinister laugh. “Because, even _Uriel_ would have said … _NEVER underestimate your opponents_ … especially those you’ve _never_ fought before.”

“You ass. I _have_ fought you … and I remember you fucking sucked at it too.” Dawn rubbed her jaw, remembering that Ellie had been the one to push her to try martial arts to begin with, but her best friend quit soon after starting. _Huh._ She was there _just_ long enough to push her into it, to give her the confidence to stick with it and succeed at it. How fucking … _convenient._

“Well …” The angel prophet giggled. “That _might_ have been a bit … _misleading_.”

Dawn pulled herself back to her feet, gripping the staff tightly in her hand as she spit the blood that was pooling within her mouth out onto the ground. “And _that_ was a cheap shot.”

“Cheap shot?” Lilith giggled. “Do you think she sneaked up on you, dumb little thing? Did you _hear_ anything?”

Lilith was right. There was _no noise_ that Dawn could recall and something about the Corrupter’s words confused her, but there wasn’t time to mull it over properly, as suddenly and quite _instantly_ , Lilith was in front of her, the staff already thrust directly into her gut.

_Ooooof!_

The air was forced out of her again as her legs kicked out behind her immediately. The force of the strike sent her body nearly horizontal to the ground before gravity sent her back to the ground, hitting hard with her stomach and face.

_Fuck._

She pulled herself up, again, but this time stopped at her knees as she looked up, her hand covering the spot on her abdomen where the blow had landed. As she reached for the staff, now discarded several feet from her, Ellie was upon her again, striking the other side of her jaw, sending her back down to the dirty mercilessly.

_Bitch._

They were laughing. She was disappointed because she _knew_ should have been able to counter. At the very least, she _should_ have been able to _attempt_ a counter, but _there was no movement. There was no strike_. There was _nothing_. They were just … _there_. Dawn had learned how to slow things down, but this was something more. They weren’t moving like _anything_ she had ever seen. No, that was wrong. They actually weren’t _moving_ at all …

_Oh hell._

“My morningstar might have _gifted_ you the knowledge of combat, but …”

Dawn rolled back, diagonally across her back and over her right should, creating distance away from them. As she rolled, she snatched the bo as she catapulted her body back to a standing position. Swinging the weapon to a position that implied she was ready for the next attack, she used her free hand to invite either of the two women towards her again.

_Round two. Bring it._

“So, what can you teach me then?” Dawn asked, preparing herself for the next part, however there was little preparation for what would happen next.

“We will train you on your most _precious_ gift, child. The ability to … “ Ellie said next and she was instantly two feet closer, in front of Lilith now.

"To _shift …”_ Lilith finished her sentence, suddenly two feet closer as well and moving to the side where Ellie _just_ was.

“To _pause …_ ” Ellie was closer still, shifting to the other side, closing the distance in a dizzying display, perfectly coordinated with her ebony sister.

“To _bend_ …” Lilith _shifted_ again, back to the other side.

It was too late and though she swung, the staff connected with nothing, but Ellie’s staff did, hitting her savagely to the side of her temple. Her mind echoed with a fierce rattle as she staggered directly into Lilith’s next strike, to her floating rib.

_Ooooof._

_Fuck_.

The air was violently expelled _again_ and another strike from Ellie sent her back down into the dirt, her face directly into it. As she gasped for breath, dust flew up from either side of her face.

_Fuck my life._

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Ellie scraped the sentence from her mind. “We’re going to teach you how to _fuck someone else’s life_.”

 _There was no way. How were they doing this? Is it because it was just a dream? She couldn’t …_ They weren’t …

“Human?” Lilith laughed, plucking the word from her mind just as Ellie had done. “Of course we aren’t.”

 _Fuck_ … they were _both_ in her mind …

She pulled herself back up to her feet, gripping the staff as she wiped the dirt from her face, preparing to start again. _Defiance_ was what she did best, right?

“You see, you may possess Uriel’s training now … but even Uriel is just **_Elohim_**. Just a _simple Archangel_.” Ellie stated plainly. “He cannot teach you what you need to know.”

Attempting to strike first this time, she thrust the staff towards Ellie face, but she was simply no longer there. _Fuck._ When the staff poked her in the back, directly between her shoulder blades, she paused, knowing the Angel was now standing directly behind her. *How the … *

She attempted to spin, but Ellie had already floored her again. She was getting tired of the dirt in her mouth because as it mixed with the blood that was pooling within, it became a thick _mud_. She spit it out as she pulled herself up _again_ , prepared to try, yet again.

_Round three._

“And what exactly is that?” Dawn questioned, cracking her neck to one side as she stared up to her two taller attackers. “What do I **_need_** to know?”

Lilith smiled. “ ** _How to fell a Hayyoth._** ”

 

* * *

 

There were a few hours remaining on their long flight when Dutch’s laptop started to beep, indicating a terrifying notification. Locking eyes with Fet before she lunged for it, her heart leapt. She _knew_ what that noise meant. The notification was set up for _that interference signal_. As she pulled the screen of the computer up to look, she couldn’t help but keep her hand from her mouth.

“What is it?” Gus asked, pulling his seat belt off and stepping over to look closer, despite his inability to understand the squiggly lines within.

“It’s her … _Jesus Christ … but_ …”

“But what?” Fet pushed.

There was a hesitation as she considered how to explain to them what concerned her. Even she was having a hard time with what she was seeing. The signal in Philadelphia was seven times stronger than what they saw when she was interacting with the Master, but what she saw now was at least twice as strong as even _that_. “It’s getting stronger. More powerful. It’s getting … _worse_.”

“Where is she?” Fet asked quickly. “Location?”

The graphs moved and changed as the signal came in at full strength. She ran correlations for the rest of the globe on multiple clusters to get an idea of the general location, should she pop up again. She could check the clusters, but there wouldn’t be a need right now, since her laptop itself had been working on a very small area surrounding their presumed destination. As the first location came in, the ellipsis encircled the entire radius, but slowly it began to refine as the integration of the signal transforms became more precise.

“Right where we’re headed.” She touched the screen as the peak started to grow even further with increasing magnitude. “Rome.”

“Good. I mean, dat’s great, huh?” Fet smiled, always the optimist but Dutch closed her eyes tightly. “Don’t worry. Der’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be der soon.” He seemed convinced, but Gus sighed.

“I know that look, Dutch.” Gus sighed, pointing back towards the small armory and Dutch shook her head at him. “You don’t think we brought enough guns, huh?”

“No, Love. Not even close.”

_Whatever they were heading into, she doubted they were even close to being prepared._

* * *

**[What Else Is There? - Röyksopp](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F238vPTkV2cKupWDnAietb6&t=NzM0MjQwNjE0ZjI5NTU3ZDU1YzQ3ZTBmNGFiNjgwNDMyNTZiYTI0ZixiMmViOG1tYg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164690605128%2F81-revelations&m=1)**

> _I don’t know what more to ask for_
> 
> _I was given just one wish_
> 
> _It’s about you and the sun_
> 
> _A morning run_
> 
> _The story of my maker_
> 
> _What I have and what I ache for_

She sat down on the log. At first, it was an attempt to ease her aching body down gently, but as gravity took hold, she found herself unable to halt the force of the motion and the entire log creaked as she hit it with a thud.

_Fuck._

“Oy.” Ellie chirped from her own log, sitting at a right angle from her. “Alright there?”

“No.” Dawn bit back with annoyance. “You beat the shit out of me.” At first, she was grateful when she woke up in the dream as her body had been wrecked from EL’s usage of it, before she fell asleep in the Nazi’s arms. But _now_ she felt _just_ as bad.

“You are getting better. Faster than I assumed.” Lilith complimented, in her own strange way, chucking more wood into the fire. “You will be ready soon.”

 _Ready?_ This statement made her nervous.

_Ready to fell a Hayyoth … Ah shit._

“If you say so.” She rubbed her jaw, then her arm, and then her ribs. She stretched her neck and then her leg, sighing heavily. She could rub everything that hurt, but it would likely be her entire body.

“I would not say so if I did not believe it.” The Corrupter said plainly. She hated Lilith at first, but as time went on, she was starting to appreciate her brutal honesty in nearly every regard. She spoke what was on her mind, her emotions out and free for all to witness and criticize. And she didn’t care, one way or another, if her manners were unpleasant and that extreme arrogance was almost … _inspiring_. Over the hours that they were beating her down, chastising her, brutalizing her, and training her, Dawn began to see the qualities that fascinated EL so entirely.

 _Hours_? She mulled that word over and over. Had it been _hours_? She wasn’t certain, but it almost seemed like _more_ than that … Days? Possibly more still. The way that time flowed in this place was confusing to her and Ellie laugh out loud as the angel prophet, yet again, stole her thoughts before she could verbalize a damn thing.

“You’ll get the feel of it soon enough. We have all had to embrace this … confusion.”

“Confusion?” Dawn asked and both women nodded in unison. “You mean about _time_?”

“Once you can release yourself from the _linearness_ of your own crippled thinking, you will become a master of its mechanisms.” Lilith said cryptically. “Let go of all logic as you assume it to exist and embrace the _abstract_. You will be better at it than we are …”

“Better?” Dawn asked, intrigued by this. “Better than even _you_?”

“Oh yes.” Ellie laughed. “You are born from _The Creative_ one. This was very much by design.” She was eating something now, picking it apart and putting it into her mouth as she chewed merrily. _Wait, where did she get something to eat?! Did they even need to eat here?_

“Abstract thought comes more naturally to you than most.” Lilith reaffirmed. “It would have been harder for someone born of _Ozryel_ to master this. Logic is the conformance to the rules set forth by the Creator. We, as seers, live beyond even those rules.” She picked up a tiny rock and chucked it directly across the fire, hitting Ellie in the leg as she chuckled. “This is why it was so hard for _this one_ to learn it. She took _centuries_ to train.”

 _Centuries? Would she be stuck here for …_ **_centuries?!?_**

“Psh.” The tall one scoffed. “There is _no such thing as duration here_ , **_remember_**? Keep your own definitions straight. You're contradicting yourself again.”

It was clear they disliked each other quite a bit, but their bickering made Dawn smile, as sisters didn’t _have_ to like each other to be family, did they?

“So … were you always so … _English_?” Dawn had been wanting to ask and now that there was _down time_ , she jumped at the question. She had _many_ questions for her once _best friend_ and now _sister_. This one was as good of a place to start as any.

“I can speak with _any_ accent, in _any language._ ” This was spoken how Dawn had always known her. As an _American_. “But …” The English accent flicked back on. “Of all my lifetimes, I much prefer this. I like it best. Makes me feel more … I don’t know … _refined_?”

“What else?” Dawn pushed and Ellie looked confused. “What else did you lie about?”

“ _Everything_.” Lilith grinned, pushing a button that she knew would anger Ellie even more and that same tiny rock was chuckled back across the fire, clearly aimed at the Corrupter’s head, but it was flicked away before hitting its target as Lilith giggled.

“The martial arts classes?” Dawn pushed forward, ignoring them.

“I _knew_ you’d enjoy.  Your mom wanted _you_ to take _ballet_. Then Jazz dancing? Then, what else was it? Tap dancing? What the hell were you going to do? Tap dance your way past the Master? And then Gymnastics. Then … she wanted you to try out for the _Cheerleading squad_. Yuck.” Ellie shuddered dramatically.

“You _knew_ because you’ve _seen_ it?” Dawn cringed.

“I _knew_ because you are made from the Right Hand of God. I _knew_ because you were _born_ to be a fighter …” Dawn glared with appalled eyes. “And I was right … wasn’t I?”

She was more than right. Dawn had _loved_ it and not just because it had afforded her the power that her disease had taken from her, but it was also something fulfilling on a level she had never experienced before. She accepted this. She was _born_ to it.

“What else?” Dawn pushed and Lilith grew frustrated. It was difficult to understand if the frustration stemmed from her not being a part of the conversation or not, but her annoyance was verbalized immediately.

“ _EVERYTHING_.” She kicked dirt into the fire. “EVERYTHING. We don’t need to go over your entire life, do we? She has been manipulating your life since you were _born_. It is what _snakes_ do.”

“Fine.” Dawn surrendered. It was actually a fair statement. Did she really want to know each and every single little detail Ellie had … _changed_? There was a discernible amount of shame on the angel prophet’s face though and Dawn’s anger began to melt away. “Whatever. I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Not _everything_ …” Ellie paused, her brows furrowing madly. “was just manipulation.” She confessed. “We _were_ friends and … we _are_ friends. I’ll _always_ be your friend.”

 _Truth._ Even if Dawn was still reeling from the unshakable feeling of betrayal, she knew there was truth behind these words. Sighing, she changed the subject. “So … Are you _dead_ right now?”

“Now?” Ellie asked. “You mean … in _your_ time?”

Dawn nodded. _Her time._

“In _your_ time, yes. I am very dead.” Ellie explained. “But in _my_ time … you _just_ left for Rome.”

“So …” Dawn pushed, the subject of her inquiry was not yet clear. “You’re in _Heaven_ … with him … now? Or rather …” She cringed, expecting Lilith to correct her once again. “ _You will be?_ ”

Ellie shifted, understanding where the conversation was about to embark. “Dawn–”

“Can you talk to _him_ for me?”  Her voice cracked.  “When you see him, can you tell him I’m comi–”

##  **“NO.” Lilith said firmly. “NO!   ENOUGH!!!”**

The fire intensified, flaring up in front of her impressively fast and Dawn reacted instinctively, by shielding herself from its flames, her hands flying up to cover her _face_ , but when she opened her eyes, she was in _Quintus’_ bed, back in the loft. Relief swam over her rigid body and she collapsed back down into the sheets, staring up into the concrete ceiling as she realized the dream was over.

She didn’t remember making it back to the flat, but here she was, in his bed and … _nearly naked_? Her panic struck as she sat up and looked all around her for her clothes, but saw _none_. She was just in her bra and underwear.

 _That Nazi pervert!!!_ She was gonna rip his fucking head off …

In her sudden anger, she didn’t think about retrieving clothing to cover herself with from the locked closet, but instead she bolted downstairs immediately. It was when she found him seated patiently on the couch, with a needle and thread in hand that she paused, realizing he was _still there_.

“Good afternoon, my dear.” He said with a calm voice, barely looking up from his task of patching her rent clothing. “Did you rest well? I think you must have been dreaming something terrible … ”

“Uh …” She was still shocked that he was _still_ there. He could have left and she had fully expected him to, hadn’t she? He seemed to be patching her shirt “Afternoon? How long was I out?”

“Not long. Maybe 12 hours at most?”

She half expected him to say several days or even weeks and she sighed in relief before realizing she was still mostly naked. As her arms flew to cover herself, he pointed to the table and at the nicely folded pants on it.

“I apologize for removing your clothing, but it was in …” He opened the shirt for her to fully appreciate the damage. “Quite a state.”

There were holes burned into it all over and the painful memories of the divinity sparking out of her body to _destroy_ all those innocent souls came rushing back over her as she grabbed the pants to pull them on, and distract herself. Thomas read the expression clearly. _Shame._

“How are you doing? It was quite an evening, yes?”

Ignoring the question, she thrust her first leg into the pants and finally got a good look at what he was using to patch with. “Is this–”

“Yes. I know it is crude and I apologize. I could not get into the closet. It is locked and I was certain you didn’t want me to _cut up_ any of the textiles around here.” He pointed to the cushions and the couch. “I did not wish to venture far from you in that state and it was the only thing Mr. Ferraro could supply quickly. Unfortunately, he also did not wish to part with any of his own _textiles_. I find that man to be very _difficult_.”

He wasn’t wrong there. She smiled as she pushed her other leg in and pulled them on. She looked at the material again and actually snorted with laughter as it was working to motivate her further. _Fate?_ She never believed in it, but at this point, there were many things that she hadn’t _believed_ in which were simply fact.

“You are amused by this?” He asked. “Good. I feared it would undoubtedly annoy you, fräulein.”

Running her fingers over the shiny, silvery tape material that was folded over several times to create a makeshift patch and hide its sticky side before being stitched onto the fabric securely, she smiled. “No. I’m not. It’s fine. It’s perfect.”

 _It was … Duct Tape_.


	58. 8.2 - Revelations

**[Mad World - Gary Jules](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3JOVTQ5h8HGFnDdp4VT3MP&t=MTBjNzlkNzA1MDJjZTNkZDVmNWZjOGNhNTI5MGM0ZDBlMzczYjZjYSxGZ1VoR2Jxbg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164763362063%2F82-revelations&m=1)**

Raphael pushed on the massive door and found that it was, indeed, barricaded from within. He looked at the scene around him with perplexity. The Great Hall of Rebirth was in shambles. Where he was in now was the massive room before the chamber itself, generally with a massive queue winding around and around as thousands and thousands of people waited in line for years _and years_ to get to the pool within.

What he was looking at now was quite the disaster zone. The souls that were in line had been ushered out and dozens of Bene Elohim guards were strewn all around. Some standing around, unsure what to do with themselves while others were sitting, nursing the burns of divinity all over their celestial bodies. All in all, Raphael was _very_ impressed. In the span of only a few minutes, Quintus seemed to have come to terms with some of his more _latent_ Hayyoth abilities.

A significant amount of pride swelled in the Archangel’s chest as he smiled and pushed on the door again. It was _solidly_ shut. There were few places that he couldn’t _travel_ to in Heaven without the use of the staff to aid him, and the pools is one of them. This was by design as it kept those complacently waiting in line, for even _human_ souls could learn to _travel_ in Heaven.

“Sir?” Someone unimportant asked from behind and Raphael thrust a hand out to them without gracing them with his focus.

“Stand back please.” He would have enjoyed this a bit more as everything was actually _exciting_ and … _new_. It had been millenia since _anything_ of interest had happened in Heaven and he regretted needing to get back to the gate so quickly.

Placing both hands on the door, he heard the Bene Elohim scrambling behind him to take cover and he grinned with burgeoning excitement as his hands charged with the _lightning_ of his divine power. Penetrating the material, a crack of divine **_thunder_** sounded and echoed in the hall. The lesser angels all around covered their ears in unison as the blast rocked the door and the material crumbled all around him into nothing more than sand.

It had been _such_ a very long time since he considered himself a **_Thunder_** that he was exhilarated by it. After melting the door away, he saw the giant boulders that were placed at its opening and he smirked. There was a significant amount of effort … or rather _motivation_ … behind this action. He melted those rocks next rather than bother to scale them.

The uninjured guards lined up behind him, but he waved them off.

“Sir. He is a _Hayyoth_. Did you see what he just did here? You shouldn’t go al–” The same unimportant armour-clad captain spoke up again, preparing for an argument and Raphael shook his head in delightful amusement.

“Trust me, Captain. I have no use for your aid against **_my nephew_**.” These were ill-chosen words, as they gave insight into his true thoughts on the half-breed. Quintus had been found innocent of that _title_ by the highest court in _existence_ , but it mattered not right now. There were more important things that Raphael needed to worry about. He entered the chamber without anyone in tow. “Remain here. I will take care of this **_myself_**.”

He walked slowly down the winding stone staircase, as he knew he didn’t wish to spook the dhampir further. He knew that such violence, when invoked within the gladiator, was hard to subdue. He knew because he had watched him since the _day_ he was born.

Anyone _other_ than the purple-child might have rushed in, with the assumption that Quintus might have already moved along, having thrown himself into the rebirth waters. They would have rushed, thinking they could stop him before he was already well on his journey into the well of souls to be reborn on Earth. But Raphael … unlike _any of his brethren_ , or anyone else in Heaven, knew that Hayyoth divinity could not cross _that_ barrier.

Raphael knew … because **_he_** had tried before … when he had grown despondent from _her loss_.

When the pool was within view, he saw Quintus’ feet first and was a bit surprised. He was fully expecting to see him sitting off to the side, wet and dejected, but as he came down the last few steps, he could see the dhampir fully now, still floating in the waters.

The pool wasn’t very large. It was non-symmetrical though somewhat circular and roughly measured ten feet across on all sides. It had no bottom, of course, and Quintus was floating in the very middle of it, on his back, staring up at the ceiling with an expressionless face as his hands slowly slapped the water on either side of him.

He made no motion that he _knew_ Raphael was there until he spoke. “Did you stop the gate from closing?”

“We did not. Michael closed it.” Raphael stepped to the edge of the water, standing as straight as possible as he locked his hands behind him. “But it matters not. I will reopen it.”

“Did you find Michael?”

“He is in _the wind_.”

“ _The wind …_ ” Quintus snorted laughter at the word. An uncharacteristic playfulness in his voice as he floated in the water, still staring directly up.

“By this action … “ Raphael sighed. “I take it you weren’t too keen on _speaking_ with me then?” He asked, remembering his last words to the half-breed before he left in pursuit of Michael. “If you had asked me, I could have told you the pools wouldn’t work for you. They don’t work for _our kind_.”

 _Silence_. Something bubbled under the fakely calm surface of Quintus’ face and the Hayyoth patiently waited for Quintus to speak again. “Why would you have tried this?”

“I imagine the same reason you are … to _forget_ the pain of what I had _lost_.” Raphael admitted.

“That is where we differ, _my lord_.” Quintus scoffed at the statement. “I would _never_ seek to forget the things that _drive_ me. They are what define me.”

“What is this about, Quintus?” Raphael asked but his question was met with silence. “I am _not_ your enemy. I am your only _ally_. What can I do to prove this to you?”

A laugh as the dhampir finally moved, shifting over onto his stomach so that he could paddle back to the edge of the pool. “Given how I was just treated, I am sure you can appreciate my apprehension at giving _your kind_ my trust.”

Raphael offered a hand, but Quintus ignored it, pulling himself up and the archangel smiled, fully expecting the behaviour from the boy.

“Yes. I can appreciate your hesitation, but …” He stepped back to give Quintus a sense of freedom, though it really mattered not. No amount of distance would or _could_ protect the boy from Raphael if he so wished _anything_ from him. “I hope that _you_ can appreciate the situation that I am now in.”

“Situation?” Quintus tried to wring out his coat, but Raphael waved a hand and the dhampir was entire dry. “Your brother’s actions are _not_ my doing.”

“I have given you the room I assumed you needed to adjust. I have kept my distance, though it has been obvious at times that you harbour many _secrets_.” Raphael stayed collected and in control because he knew he could simply take what he wished if Quintus forced his hand. However, his intention had _never_ been to make himself seem untrustworthy. Raping his mind, as Michael had, would undoubtedly make Raphael the enemy he was trying _not_ to be.

**_The Child of Prophecy’s enemy._ **

“My secrets are _my own_.” Quintus bit and he saw the boy now looking around for an exit, as he always did when he was being backed into a corner.

“If those secrets threaten the safety of Heaven or _my brothers_ , then they are no longer _yours_ to keep.”

“Then you will violate me the same as _he_?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Just tell me. What did he see, Quintus? In your mind … what could have caused Michael to react so … _uncharacteristically_?” Desperation was rich in his tone as he struggled to subdue the _need_ for this knowledge. Quintus’ nose furrowed as he squinted in defiance, his lips curling up into a sneer. Raphael knew this look and he _knew_ the dhampir would simply not budge willingly. “I don’t wish to treat you as _Michael_ did … _please_. Why must you always be so _difficult_?”

“Do it.” Quintus thrust his hands out, palms facing the angel as he sneered further. “Take what you want. Prove you are no better than he. Make this place the _prison_ we both know it is.”

 _Prison_. Raphael paused, swallowing hard. That word … that _description_ … why would Quintus thrust _that word_ at him. That word had been _her_ description of _Heaven_.

“No.” Raphael stated as he heard the familiar foot fall behind him. Quintus’ eyes were already glaring at the massive angel that stood behind the purple-eyed angel. “I am _not_ your enemy, Quintus.”

“Problems?” Gabriel asked and Raphael shook his head.

“No. No problems … _yet_ , but I need to get back to the gate.” He turned, starting to walk back up the stone steps to the area above where he could _travel_ from.

“And him?” Gabriel pointed.

“I believe he is in need of reflection and **_solitude_**.” Raphael wished to continue the conversation in privacy. Not in front of Gabriel. Quintus needed time to calm down and he would continue this discussion _after_ he had reopened the gate. For now, it was best to put the **_child of prophecy_** somewhere _safe_. “Return him to his cell.”

“Finally.” Gabriel nodded.

Raphael swiftly mounted the stairs, making it to the top before Gabriel and his prisoner were half the distance delayed because Quintus was being difficult. Raphael had full confidence in Gabriel’s ability to handle him.

Once he was back in the chamber above, he paused, considering if he should visit the _gate_ immediately or take a small detour. Locking eyes with Uriel, the _Elohim_ questioned the strange look on Raphael’s face. “To the gate now? Do you need me to accompany you or should I search for the Governor?”

“You won’t find him.” Raphael knew better than to underestimate his big brother. “But before the gate …” He touched the Elohim’s shoulder and they found themselves standing before Ozryel’s empty cell.

“ _Why_ …” Raphael took a deep breath in, turning to Uriel with wide eyes, attempting with every fiber of his being to mask the anger brewing within. “Why is the … why is the door open?”

“We searched the cell. Don’t worry, it was _already_ empty.” Uriel explained as Raphael sighed dramatically, knowing full well it was _not_ empty. Not until they opened the door to look within that was. “I went inside to look closer. I assure you, the cell was _empty_ , brother. Ozryel wasn’t in it, trust me. There’s no way she hid somewhere. There was nowhere for her to hide. I’m not blind. Ozryel clearly has agents working for him in Heaven.”

Raphael doubted this very much.

Calm. Breathe. Focus. Calm. Raphael’s hand came to his forehead as he rubbed his temple gently. “No. Of course not. _Angels can’t_ **_hide_** _like that._ ” _Calm_. Breathe. Give nothing away. It was not Uriel’s fault. Uriel had no idea what Ozryel was capable of. “Leave me. Meet me at the gate please. Permit me this quiet moment.”

“Of course.” Uriel nodded in obedience and was gone. The angel waited a few seconds, searching around to verify he was _indeed_ alone before he could check something in privacy. He stepped into the cell and placed his hand on the wall as he uttered the Encocian command to it.

“נאָיטאַלעווע”

(Revelation)

The entire room glowed and he looked around with prideful awe. It was obvious she had been at this for _months_ and he couldn’t help but grin slightly. Every single inch of the the walls and ceilings, even the bars themselves, were etched with that same _familiar_ glyph and his smile turned into a cringe. _Shit_. He knew exactly what had occurred. Taking his hand away, the glyphs faded back into obscurity.

“.ניטאַקסופבאָ”

(Obfuscation)

She had hidden herself from sight and from mind, obfuscating her body as well as everything around her with the confines of the marks. Clever, as always. The smartest one of them. She had figured out how to twist its original application to fit her needs and he shook his head with pride. His two other brothers had no idea this was even possible. When had she learned the glyph!? In their fit of confusion, they opened the door and she merely slipped by.

 _“God damn it”_. He muttered, loitering far too long as he looked around one more time, unaware that while he was standing in the confines of the masked cell, his senses were dead to everything outside of the marks and therefore he failed to see that something was standing in the hallway, watching him from a still state. As the door clicked shut, Raphael spun with incredible speed but it was already too late. He grabbed the bars, rattling the door with frustration as he stared back into his brother’s red eyes as she finally revealed herself.

“Forgive this action, _purple child_.” She said with utter seriousness.

“Ozryel.” It was a warning as his cheek began to spark with angry blue charge. “Do not do–”

“Unfortunately, the _obfuscation_ glyphs will prevent you from contacting others.” She explained as she fiddled with a _familiar_ helmet in her hands. He looked at her armor as he realized he had _just seen it_ moments before. _Fuck_. She smiled meekly before she pulled the helmet back down to hide her face again. “I’m quite curious what effect this will have on the _Nexus_ though … I can deal with isolation. I’ve _years_ of practice, but can our other brothers handle it?”

“Ozryel.” He only said her name, because he _knew_ that look.

“Forgive me.” She said again, explaining. “But my hand is being forced.” As she looked around at the cell she smiled. “I don’t imagine this will keep you for long though, as you built the _cells_. We both know you’ve placed a backdoor for yourself, so I must be going.”

“Ozryel.” He shook his head but she was already turning away.

“But, _little brother_ , I suggest you take this quiet opportunity for **_reflection and solitude_**.” 

  


Raphael glared now as Ozryel used the _same_ words that he had just uttered to Quintus when he’ threatened to imprison him. “I am _not_ his enemy, Oz. Nor am I _yours_.”

“Don’t you get it, _Traveller_? If you stand _with_ Heaven … _then you are unfortunately_ **_both_** _of our enemies._ ”

“That is where–” Raphael tried but Ozryel was already gone. “FUCK.”

The cells were strong, built to withstand all manner of celestial beings, but he was _not_ like that others. He had never been. There was no backdoor as she was assuming, because he simply didn’t need one. Turning, he placed his hand on the wall, whispering something even more _obscure_ and _powerful_ than the _Obfuscation_ trickery as a crack of _thunder_ sounded down the hallways.

“.ניטקורצעד”

(Destruction)

* * *

 

Gabriel pulled him along like a petulant child, his grasp on the dhampir’s bicep was unbreakable and nearly crippling. The Bene Elohim watched as he was treated as nothing more than a common criminal by the Archangel, dragging him into the massive chamber above the pools.

“You’ve finally proven yourself untrustworthy. I knew it. I was right. Back to the cells.” The mountain of an angel laughed heartily. “You’re a fucking idiot. You’ll never be allowed to leave now. Maybe we can even rid you of existence.”

 **[Come & Get It - Cahill Club Remix](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2yGGuSe5o591h1hGf0wcLd&t=MmVkZjBkOGE0ZWNjNmNhNTI0MzViNmRjZGUzZjM1NTVjZGFmOGYzMSxGZ1VoR2Jxbg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164763362063%2F82-revelations&m=1)**

> _You ain’t gotta worry, it’s an open invitation_
> 
> _I’ll be sittin’ right here, real patient_
> 
> _All day, all night, I’ll be waitin’ standby_
> 
> _Can’t stop because I love it, hate the way I love you_

Quintus felt completely powerless. Everything that he was _supposed_ to do was being taken away from him. He could think of nothing but those sinister _rainbow_ eyes in place of hers. Just as when the _Master_ had taken over vessels and their eyes would glow Ozryel’s _red_ , he understood that, when hers were glowing _rainbow_ , that it could _only_ mean … _Lucifer._ The rage, as he thought it over, began to bubble in his chest. 

> “Calm your fire.”

He knew that voice. It was loud and sharp in his mind. 

> “Prepare yourself, Bald one.”
> 
> “Ozryel?”

Quintus remained entirely rigid as he heard his angelic maker’s voice rattle in his head again. She was _near_? How was that even possible? 

> “What? What do you mean? Prepare myself _for what_?”

_Silence_ and just when he doubted he had even heard her, she spoke again. He pushed again and he felt a sensation that, wherever she was, she was _grinning madly_.

 _Oh no._

> “For the signal.”
> 
> “What signal?!”
> 
> “Oh you’ll know. We’re gonna play a little game, _my petit prince_.”
> 
> “Game?!”

_Silence_. 

> “Ozryel, what … _game_? Wait … _Where are you?_ ”

She was still in her cell right? Could she speak to him at this distance from it? 

> “A little game of Tag. Perhaps a little bit of American Football too.”

**_Uh oh._**

> “Ozryel, what are you planning?”
> 
> “Well … really, if you think about it, American Football _is_ Tag, isn’t it?”
> 
> “Ozryel …”
> 
> “I mean, albeit, a very _violent_ form of it, but at its root, its just Tag, isn’t it? Millions and millions of dollars spent on … _Violent Tag._ ”

Was this really a good time for her to go off on a mental tangent?! 

> “OZRYEL!”
> 
> “Right right, sorry. Shhhh! Calm yourself. He can hear you.”

She was giggling. This was _her_ fault he wasn’t calm!

 **_Oh no._**

> “Where are you?”

Another giggle. _Damnation._ His heart rate increased slightly as he wondered what might occur next. He has seen Gabriel defeat _all_ manner of beings, including the Governor himself and he wasn’t sure what was about to occur, but it couldn’t be good, could it? Gabriel heard his heightened anxiety instantly, turning to eye the dhampir with growing suspicion.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gabriel asked through sneered teeth, tightening his grip on Quintus’ arm.

“Nothing.” Quintus was a good liar, but Gabriel didn’t buy it.

“What the fuck are you hiding now?”

“Sir?” The Bene Elohim Captain asked from behind. “What about the Chamber? Should we reopen it without the doors in place? What about the guards? The queue? How do we requeue people? This–”

Gabriel spun with annoyance, not usually having to deal with matters of _state_ , he took a deep breath in to address the soldier when Quintus saw the Captain’s _red_ eyes, hidden behind _his …_ **_her helmet_**.

 _Damnation._ That answered that question. She was definitely not in her cell anymore.

“Do I look like I fucking care, Captain?” Gabriel waved off the statement with his free hand. Ask Raph–”

Gabriel might have been the best fighter there was. He might have been the strongest, the toughest, but he wasn’t the most observant, especially when he wasn’t prepared and the sucker punch landed squarely into his nose, watering his eyes as he took one _tiny_ step backwards, retaining his god-like grip on Quintus. Her next punch landed immediately to his ribs and he grunted, finally releasing his prisoner and returning the strike as he grabbed Ozryel’s neck with his other hand, still not fully understanding who was attacking him. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”

“God, sometimes you are so bloody daft …” This wasn’t the fakely masculine voice she was using before and Gabriel’s eyes widened as she tore out of his grip before attempting another blow.

“OZRYEL!?” He bellowed with laughter as the Bene Elohim shifted all around, as weapons were drawn. “You are fucking _crazier_ than we thought! **_You challenge me?!_** ” Gabriel was quite prepared this time, blocking and bringing his hand dramatically back for an incredibly fast and unstoppable right hook, but his punch remained at the cocked position, as another arm had hooked it on the elbow, holding it back.

“ ** _Not alone …_** ” Quintus whispered delicately into his ear as Ozryel swung her leg up in a beautifully elegant arch, connecting her heel against Gabriel’s jaw and Quintus used the momentum to torque his body around with a fast spin, using the leverage to flip the massive angel over his outstretched leg. He expected Gabriel to hit the ground on his side, but the warrior shifted in the middle of the throw and landed beautifully on his feet. As he stood erect, he flung his brown hair back and looked up as a mad grin spread across his face.

_Oh gods._

There was no time to conspire amongst themselves as Gabriel’s first strike sent Quintus flying into the back wall, creating a crater at the point of his impact and the second strike pushed Ozryel back several feet as she used her divinity to steady herself and the air sparked with electricity. It took Quintus a moment to pull himself back up as he watched the taller angel pummel his progenitor mercilessly, fist connecting with flesh, over and over and over again. He was unstoppable and Ozryel could only attempt useless blocks.

Gabriel moved like a boxer, concise and powerful strikes to her face, to her ribs, to her jaw. Jabs and hooks. Rights and lefts. He favored no side over the other and _everything_ was a power strike. When she _did_ manage to block, he would chuckle and throw the next strike even harder. Quintus found himself staring in awe for a moment, appreciating the gravity of the fight unfolding, as all the guards around seemed to be doing as well. 

> “QUINTUS! A little help please?” She pled mentally and Quintus leapt forward.
> 
> “Oh right. Apologies.”

He was upon Gabriel from behind, this time taking the massive angel’s right knee down with a cutting kick. As his knee buckled to the ground, he turned, smiling before he caught Quintus’ blow before it would even connect with his face.

Ozryel took the opportunity to punch and the strike landed upon her brother’s face but had **_no_** discernible effect and Gabriel _smiled_ gloriously.

“Good lord …” She spat. “What the hell are you make of?!?!”

“ ** _PURE DETERMINATION._** ” He laughed and Quintus realized Gabriel was actually _quite_ enjoying this as he stood back up immediately, grabbing the dhampir by the neck and raising him several feet off the ground. The dhampir _knew_ what was coming next as he read the look on the angel’s face. Gabriel had every intention on slamming the half-breed into the ground like a rag doll, something Quintus had done to _mere men_ before and Ozryel attempted to thwart the action by unleashing Hayyoth powered strikes, with electricity crackling through her knuckles. She hit each side of his ribs at a speed Quintus could not even see. He could only hear the _thunder_ each strike caused as he scratched at Gabriel’s fingers, trying to pull himself free but Gabriel just tightened his grip more ruthlessly around his windpipe.

Her onslaught had no effect and Gabriel’s other hand was now around _her_ throat and he lifted her to the same distance as Quintus. 

> “Oh [faex](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may).”

Quintus didn’t even know which one of them said it first, but it didn’t matter …

Instead of slamming him into the ground as Gabriel had originally intended, he chuckled as he rammed them into each other. The shock of the impact against Ozryel’s Hayyoth shell sent Quintus’ mind reeling with dizziness and then Gabriel did it again and _again_ , before he chucked the dhampir across the room nonchalantly and returned all of his attention back to his _older_ brother, headbutting her as he released her neck and she stumbled backwards. 

> “Was _this_ your plan?” Quintus asked with desperation, pulling himself back to his feet again. “For us to just get beaten senseless?”
> 
> “No, _Foolish Boy_. My plan was _football_ , remember? You’re perfect now, just stay there.”
> 
> “Stay here? I can’t aid you at this distance–”
> 
> “You’ll need a running head start, my boy.“

_What the …_ Then he saw it. Her stumbles and staggers were … strange. She wasn’t really _fighting_ , per se, as he watched her footwork. From the beginning, she was egging Gabriel on and …oh good gods … _she was lining him up_. When she had first attacked, they were close to the exit and now they were very near the entrance to the cave.

Quintus grinned. _Football._

Gabriel hit her and she "staggered” around, looking over to Quintus and she … _winked_.

 _Oh good gods._

> “Ready?”
> 
> “ _Indeed_.”

Quintus squatted, placing his hands on the ground and preparing himself very much like a linebacker. He wasn’t sure if he could even _move_ the archangel but Ozryel squashed the doubt that permeating from his mind. She reassured him. 

> “Quintus. You are _stronger_ than _anyone_ here realizes … ”

Gabriel was lined up perfectly and Ozryel threw her hands up with an enthusiastic and gleeful scream, her voice cracking with a volume so thunderous that it masked the sound of her progeny’s upcoming sprint.

## “ **Blue twenty-two, blue twenty-two!** **Hut, Hut, Hike!** ”

Quintus’ body burned with _her white divinity_ as he launched himself forwards.

“What?” Gabriel asked but his confusion lasted only for a fraction of a second as the dhampir’s shoulder connected savagely into his side and his body caved from the force of it as he flew through the air, through the opening and across the massive spiral staircase. Hitting the wall on the other side, he made a crater similar to the one he made with Quintus before he slid down the wall coming to a rest.

As he dusted himself off and came to his feet, Gabriel’s amused state dissipated and he stared across the distance at Quintus, who stood tall and proud just beyond the opening. “Oh ho ho … now you’re gonna get it boy …”

“Apologies. But was I _not_ getting it _before_ , **_my lord_**?” Quintus smiled, thrusting a hand out to the angel to feign encouragement for the fight to continue, but he was just masking Ozryel’s actions, keeping Gabriel’s focus on _him_. 

  


From his vantage point, Gabriel couldn’t actually see Ozryel, kneeling at the ground in front of the destroyed door, her palms on the stone floor as the white divinity coursed out of her body into the floor as the massive door _reformed_ into a wall.

As the rock began to crawl around the edge of the opening, Gabriel leapt forward as he screamed. “What the fuck?!?” But his efforts were entirely in vain as Quintus watched the wall come into formation. They could hear the angel beating his fists against the other side as he screamed profanities.

“Always brute force, never any finesse. Tsk tsk.” She laughed, dusting off her hands with pride as she stood beside Quintus. “If he had a decent head on his shoulders, he might _actually_ be a force to be reckoned with.” She clapped a hand on his back as she smiled at their feat of teamwork.

There was a brief moment of shared pride as a smile _almost_ curled up on his face, but Quintus took a step away from her and sneered, remembering how much he _detested_ this being.

“Sorry.” She shrugged, putting her hands up with her palms facing him to aid in expressing her apology. “Didn’t mean to–”

Shifting occurred behind them and as they turned in unison, the Bene Elohim who had been watching the fight had entirely encircled them. Quintis expected them to be upon them already, but the soldiers looked around at each other with … _confusion._ Something was off about their demeanour. It was clear they weren’t entirely sure what to do, almost listless but _Puriel_ stepped forward, drawing her blade.

“You _will_ come with us.” Puriel commanded and Ozryel stepped forward, between Quintus and the guard as she threw her hands up into the air.

“MY CHILDREN!!!” Ozryel bellowed with happiness and everything began to rumble.

 **“MY FRIENDS!!!** ” She chortled with merriment and the ground began to shake.

“ ** _MY FAMILY!!!_** ” She giggled. Her giggles always made Quintus cringe.

_Oh no._

“OH HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL!” White lightning erupted from her hands. 

> “It’s time to play the next game now, Quintus.”
> 
> “Oh gods. What game now!?”

The entire structure began to buckle as the floor swayed with the earthquake she was invoking. The stone floor broke apart under his feet, creating widening crevices forcing the soldiers to jump for safety. 

> “Hide and seek, my boy.”

She grinned back at him as her divinity kicked up to the next level and the Bene Elohim grabbed their ears at the thunderous volume of her power. 

> “You should already be running, _Pale One_.”

There was no hesitation … Quintus was gone.


	59. 8.3 - Revelations

“Jesus … _fucking_ … **_Christ_**.” Dutch stared at the charred remains of the building from across the street, nestled within the massive crowd of people that congregated to gawk at the destruction that had unfolded in the wee hours of the Italian morning. They parked relatively far away and walked a good distance, as most of the streets were actually shut down due to the ‘ _possible terrorist attack_ ’.

“What da hell do ya think happened here?” Fet mumbled but neither of his companions responded as they continued staring ahead. It was quite clear what happened here, wasn’t it? The structure was in shambles, still smoking as police and officials walked around the remnants of building. They managed to get _very little_ from the other loiterers. No one knew anything yet, except for one troubling fact that kept playing over and over again in their minds: _There were two bodies_ , one of which was decapitated.

“Are you sure dis is da place?” Fet scratched the back of his neck, hoping that his wife was wrong about the location. This wasn’t the first time he had asked this same question.

“Come on man. Ain’t no doubt.” Gus could read the destruction easily, without even requiring Dutch to verify _yet again_ that this was where the last signal had emanated. Then Gus asked the question that lingered on everyone’s mind, but no one had the courage to voice yet. “You think she’s still alive? They said two bod–”

“I dunno.” Dutch whispered, interrupting quickly. She didn’t want to think about it. “But there’s clearly nothing here. Let’s go ask that very question to _Mr. Ferraro_ , shall we?”

The three pushed their way out of the back of the crowd and walked briskly down the cobblestone street towards their rental car as a tall, golden-haired man in the back of the crowd turned to follow at a safe and inconspicuous distance.

 ** _Mr. Ferraro, huh?_** He thought to himself as he walked, making sure they wouldn’t see his tail.

 

* * *

 

**[I Want Your Love - Chromatics](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F44LECvRWtUbyJI2VGBNh6F&t=ZTVjYjQyZjNjYmJiOWQ3Y2EwMzBkYjYyNGU3NzIxYzYyNzhmNjZkNixYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1) **

 

> _Between Death & Life_
> 
> _Between Blocks Of Dreams_
> 
> _Between Walls Of Sleep_
> 
> _See Our Reflection_
> 
> _Cast No Reflection_
> 
> _…_
> 
> _When I Leave From This World_
> 
> _I Will Leave In A Storm_
> 
>  

“It weighs on you.” Thomas said as he handed her the patched shirt and she pulled it over her torso slowly, her muscles still aching from the power that had flowed through them the night before. “I can see it.” It was obvious that he spoke from experience.

“Am I being selfish?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking herself or _him_ , but he answered regardless.

“Everyone is selfish, my dear. Everyone. _Everyone in existence_ , does everything for _selfish_ reasons.” Thomas said it calmly. “Even the _most pious_ do things for selfish reasons. Even _love_ is selfish at its very core.”

“I don’t buy that.” She shook her head, reading the intention of his words. “You want to excuse _my_ actions because you want to excuse _your own_.”

“On some level …” He nodded, accepting her insight. “This is true. However, my dear, I have _accepted_ who I am, a very long time ago. This will come with time.”

“You did horrible things.” She accused.

“Oh yes.” He accepted her words with a grin, which sent a chill down her spine. “I have done _horrible_ things … much worse than what _you_ have _ever_ done. And I am _certain_ much worse than you are _even_ capable of.”

“But didn’t I?” Her eyes floated downward as the sound of the Djinn screams played again within her mind. “I burned their soul–”

“The fact that you are even _capable_ of feeling _guilt_ over the action, means that you are _not_ like us.” Thomas interrupted immediately.

“Us?” She questioned his wording and he nodded.

“ _Him_ nor _me_.” He explained. “ _He_ burned their souls away. _You did not_. You were not in charge. **_He_** made that decision.”

“Is that how you justify your _own_ actions?” She spat at him and he made no defense of himself. “It was _my_ fault … I _let_ him–”

“Do not forget that I was there. The King forced this situation, and all things considered … I am quite grateful.”

“Grateful?” She furrowed her brows. “Grateful that I–”

“Grateful that _he_ saved _us_ … **_both_**. They were going to kill me, fraulein, and _imprison_ you. I do not think you wished to be _chained_ again, did you?”

His words frustrated her as she remembered _he_ was the last one to _chain_ her. Perhaps he was hoping to deflect her self-hatred onto himself, but she would not be distracted from the loathing that she was convinced she deserved. “But, I didn’t have–”

“I _saw_ what was done to you. The situation escalated at their own choosing. We went there with non-violent intentions.”

“They had no idea though. Is that even a valid excuse … for what happened? For what **_I_** allowed to happen?” She asked, picking at the dirt and ash which had accumulated under her short fingernails. She should take a shower. She could still _smell_ their _charred souls_ on her skin, but she didn’t want to move. Pulling a pillow to her chest, she hugged it tightly, resisting the urge to bury her face into it and cry in front of him.

“Justifications are subjective things. Everyone sees the world differently.”

Squinting, she didn’t know if getting advice from _him_ , of all people, uttering **_these things_** to her, attempting to _justify_ her actions meant _anything_. He was a goddamn monster and then she realized, perhaps that actually made him the _best_ person to speak with. Because, after all, she was _quite_ a _monster_ as well, wasn’t she? The next question was difficult, but she asked it anyways. “Will I be _judged_ for this?” She asked. “Have I damned myself?”

“ ** _Your kind_** lives and dies _beyond_ mortal judgements, my dear.”

  
  


“That doesn’t seem fair.” She didn’t think that seemed fair and she bit the pillow in frustration.

“Life is **_never_** fair. If life was fair, then your _gladiator_ would have gone straight to the _pit_.” She looked up and Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. “He has done _quite_ terrible things as well. Did you know he burned down _Rome_? He killed tens of thousands–”

“No. It’s not the same. Those people … The ones EL burned … ” She whispered, still in utter disgust with herself. “They no long _exist_ , Eichhorst.”

“No, they do not. And I will repeat, _he_ did this, _you_ did not.” Thomas countered with absolute confidence in his words.

“Why do you even care?” She bit the pillow again, bringing her legs to her chest as she curled herself into a ball on the couch. “Why didn’t you leave? Is Ozryel _that_ important to you?”

“I am _not_ a fool.” He sighed deeply. “I know that _my Master_ as he was, is gone. He will _never_ be returned to me.” Thomas looked around for a moment, pausing to consider his next sentence carefully. “I remained because it is imperative that you remain hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” She laughed; her voice rich in dismay. “But I’m …” Staring down, she couldn’t bring herself to look into his sinister eyes as she gnawed nervously on the pillow. “I’m the **_bad guy_** now, aren’t I?”

“You are such a _child_ still.” Thomas laughed loudly and she shot him a particularly dirty look. “Fräulein, there are no **_good guys_** or **_bad guys_** in this world. It is never as black and white as everyone assumes.”

“Says the Nazi.” She countered and he smuggly nodded.

“Oh yes. And **_I_** , of _all_ people, understand that there are simply those who _follow the rules_ and there are those who _make the rules_. It has been and will _always_ continue to be _that simple_.”

She mulled his words over in her mind as she closed her eyes and tried to shove the destruction that she had caused out of her mind. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from this conversation, or what she was hoping to get from him. However, she did know she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. As Lilith had said, she was already on a path she could no longer divert from. She had _already_ made this decision, hadn’t she? “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She said as her stomach growled lowly. “ _Especially with you._ ”

“Nevertheless, I am here when you do. There is fruit still.” He pointed, hearing her hunger and pointing to the kitchen. “If you would like something else-”

“Coffee.” She said and pointed to the square outside of the massive windows and towards the little shop that had been her favorite when she visited before. “A cappuccino. There’s a square across the street and a cafe at its far corner. Can you manage that?”

“Of course.” He was already moving to grab his large hat and coat. “Would you care for anything else?”

She said nothing, feeling the presence of eyes behind her as she turned and spied EL standing quietly in the corner with his arms folded over her chest. He had been there the whole time and his expression was slightly angry.

_Ugh. Great._

“I will get you a pastry of some kind as well then.” Thomas said before closing the door behind him. “You need more than just liquid.”

She stood and made her way to the kitchen, as she faced EL, the tension was noticeably thick. Neither was happy with the other, but she was unsure what _she_ had done to warrant any anger from _him_. He was the one who–

> “Because you’re hiding something from me, _Aurora_.” He said immediately, scraping the question from the surface of her mind.

She smiled as this was absolutely true. Just as he was clearly hiding things from her, she was hiding something from him. She had learned he could only see the surface of her thoughts and she resisted the urge to even think about her dreams right now. What would he do if he knew she was speaking to _Lilith_? If he knew she was _using_ him? “Yeah? Now you’re just being paranoid.”

> “He was right …” EL pushed himself from the wall and approached her slowly.

“Who?” Feigning ignorance, she asked with a look full of pretend confusion.

> “The Nazi.”

“Oh? Right about what?” She was getting _very_ good at lying, wasn’t she? Trust had been built, but now EL had rocked that boat and she remembered his _joy_ in taking those souls. His thoughts …

> “You _were_ dreaming.” He said, circling her as his arms remained crossed over his chest. “What were you dreaming about, Aurora?”

“I don’t really remember. Why?”

> “You were talking in your sleep. You were talking to someone. Who was it?”

“I really don’t remember what I was dreaming. It was _just_ a dream, what does it even matter? Why are you so freaked out by it?” She diverted the conversation back to him, focusing on _his_ words and he relaxed a bit.

> “Because _your dreams_ are very special. They can be portals into the future, the past …” He admitted, accepting her ignorance. “They can be …” A pause as something worried him about this. “Useful to **_us_**.”

Sighing, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

> “How are you feeling? Well rested?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

> “Good. Ready for the next part, then?”

He asked, but she was already picking up her cell phone, hitting speed dial as it started to ring. She already knew what needed to happen next and he smiled with pride, his playful nature coming back at once. “ _Mr. Ferraro_ , I need you to find someone for me. I don’t have a last name, but–”

“Should not be a problem, Mrs. Sertorius.” Ferraro’s voice responded, interrupting her immediately, unphased by the request. She honestly expected him to be difficult, but it was likely he had received many such requests from Quintus over the years. “What information do you know?”

“Her name is **_Barb_**. She’s Iroquoian.”

As she scraped her memory for _all_ of the details of that _one_ conversation with the old woman in the Iroquois camp almost a year ago, she rattled off information to him and she could hear him typing on the other end.

“60 to 65 years old.”

“At least 5 feet 6 inches tall.”

“Deer Clan Mother.”

“Dream Guesser.”

“Retired Detective.”

“That’s all I know. Call me as soon as you find–”

“Her legal name is [Barbara Sero](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.genealogy.com%2Fforum%2Fgeneral%2Ftopics%2Fai%2F20940%2F&t=YTcxMjRiMzMzZmQ0YTRiNGVmNjU3NTUyOGYxMzU0NDIyNDI3ZjVmYSxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1).” **_Oh shit_**. That was fast. “But her birthname is _Barbeau Deerhouse_.” Deerhouse. Sounds accurate.

Dawn was shocked at the speed of Ferraro’s information gathering, but Quintus would _not_ employ a simpleton, would he? She stuttered, staring into EL’s widening grin. “Do you know where she’s currently liv–”

“She is currently leasing an apartment in Lansing, Michigan. Would you like the exact address?”

“Oh. Uhh … yes.” EL smiled. “Can you text it to me? And can you–”

“How soon will you be travelling?” He was already one step ahead.

“As soon as possible?” Was that a command or a question? _Shit_. She encouraged herself to show more confidence but she wavered. “Is that possible?”

“The jet **_will_** be ready for departure within the hour. The car **_will_** be waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat and EL raised an eyebrow to her. “Very good. Thank you.”

“Anything else?” Ferraro asked with a monotone voice.

“Nope, that’ll do it.” _Click._ She pulled the phone back and gave it a dirty look since he hadn’t even said goodbye, but instead just hung up. “Rude.” But part of her knew it was actually learn behavior. Quintus had likely conditioned him to act this way. The dhampir _hated_ the need for small talk, didn’t he? She smiled.

> “Well …” EL pointed to the briefcase on the counter. It was still full of money and _The Lumen_. “Better get packed. We leave within the hour.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, taking a deep breath.

> “I’ll be back. I need to take care of something quickly. Make sure you don’t get into any trouble, ok?”

“EL?” She asked and he paused before leaving. “Raum? Is he–”

> “He still exists. I promised, didn’t I?”

She might have asked something further, but he was already gone and she felt entirely alone again. Thomas would be back soon but she did need to get packing and take a _goddamn_ shower.

“Ok then.” She spoke to herself for the first time in months. “Let’s go find us a **_Black King_** , then.”

 

* * *

 

EL opened his eyes from his meditative state. He could feel the fallen Djinn standing closely behind.

“He’s not being forthcoming, is he?” EL asked, already well aware of the answer.

“No my _Lord_.” Shaitan answered. “He is not.”

“Pity. I was hoping it wouldn’t need to come to this. I mean, there’s really no reason for him to refuse.” He stood and dusted off his clothes, pulling the wrinkles from them. “He knows I can just take what we want.”

“Loyalty, my lord.” The fallen Djinn explained. “He has _always_ been loyal to a fault.”

“Loyalty?” EL snorted the question, disdain rich in his intonation. “Fool. His ‘loyalty’ is what brought him here … _to us_. No matter, just as yours waned over time, so will his. Right?” The Morningstar clapped a firm hand on his servant’s shoulder as he smiled mischievously.

“Yes, _my lord_.” Shaitan shifted with sadness, his demeanour full of discomfort and EL waved a hand towards the door.

“Bring him to me then. I need to get back.”

“Sir, if I can just have more time–” Shaitan attempted to come to his Marid brother’s defense, but EL chuckled heartily.

“I’m not gonna to kill him ….” He looked at the displeasure the pending intrusion was having on the fallen Djinn and EL shrugged innocently. “And I actually thought you’d be pleased to have your brother back! NO?! What’s with the attitude, _Satan_?” Shaitan and Raum were not simply Djinn _brethren_ in the broader term; they were _actual_ brothers. They had actually shared a _womb_. “Are you not pleased he’s here? Finally?”

“I am sure I can get the necessary information out of him–”

“ _Bring him to me now_. I will _not_ ask again. I need to get back.” He heard the Djinn exit the room and he moved to the table, helping himself to a bit of the food on it. Grabbing a handful of nuts, he shoveled them into his mouth greedily. It mattered not if he _needed_ sustenance, he just enjoy partaking of _pleasures_. His back was to the door when he heard the _recently_ fallen Djinn brought in. As he turned, he smiled at Raum’s continued defiance, forcing the two guards to literally drag him. Shaitan followed closely behind.

“Ah Raum! Good. Good!” EL rubbed his hands together to rid them of the dust from the nuts. “Leave us.”

“Sir?” Shaitan shifted nervously. “I still think–”

“You’re really gonna make me repeat myself?” He spoke with amusement, his eyes never leaving Raum and his growing annoyance was more than visible as the guards let the prisoner fall to the ground and everyone shuffled out as quickly as they could.

“Long time, Raum. Long time.” He joked.

“ ** _Not long enough._** ” Raum spat up at him as he came to his knees and glared at the Morningstar. EL laughed merrily as he knelt to the Djinn, cupping Raum’s jaw in his hands and tilting his face. Raum was now looking directly into EL’s rainbow eyes as they began to crackle red with power.

“Don’t be rude. You’ll come around … just like _your little brother did_.” EL smiled. Raum had been born first.

“You corrupted him …” Raum sneered. “Just like you’re corrupting _her_.”

“ ** _He_** came to _me_ for **_sanctuary_**. **_Heaven_** would have _burned_ him away. **_Heaven_** would have burned _you all away_. I _saved_ him. I saved _all of them_.” EL corrected the Djinn’s statement as his smile grew even wider. “Just like I _saved_ you. Don’t forget _Djinn_ … this was _your_ choice.”

“One I am realizing was not as **_charitable_** as you made it seem.”

“You should have expected _nothing_ less from me.” His _devilish_ grin showed all of his teeth and his tongue flicked his fangs as he spoke next. “Now, show me **_everything_** about my brother’s precious **_Order of Argaman_** …”

“Your … **_Brother’s_**?” Raum’s brows furrowed with surprise as those words rolled over his mind. None of the Order knew who was behind the it … only _Argaman_ knew who _Argaman_ was, right?

“And …” EL reached for his skull. “Everything you know about _The Black King_.”

Raum’s screams echoed throughout the halls of EL’s Great Citadel. Shaitan, standing right outside the chamber door, closed his eyes as he listened to his brother’s torturous agony, As the Morningstar ripped the information from his mind.

 

* * *

 

**[Starstruck - Santigold](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5eStu4K63j7t3ZWGGUKR7X&t=ZGM5YTU5YzhiZGJkYmNhZWY2OTVkNmNhNWMzMjNkMTFlMTk1Y2Q0MyxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1) **

 

> _We all find you easy so amuse us_
> 
> _Don’t get too heady you might abuse luck_
> 
> _You’re starstruck_
> 
>  

“Hold up.” Gus’ hand flew out and blocked Dutch from taking another step as his eagle eyes recognized the man shuffled across the street. “[Hijo de puta](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23auto%2Fen%2FHijo%2520de%2520puta&t=OTQyMzBiMDA0MzliMDFiMzYxODNjMTkyNjI5ZmZhMTgyZWIxMmQwNyxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1).”

“ _Mother fucker_ … Is that … How is he still alive–” Dutch’s heart rate skyrocketed as she whispered under her breath and Fet’s finger flew to his mouth, instructing her to be quiet as they all took a step back from view. They had no idea how sensitive his _hearing_ was and he would _definitely_ recognize any of their voices.

Gus tapped them both, thrusting his head to the right and they ducked into a side alleyway, out of sight from the man who wore the conspicuously wide brimmed hat and trenchcoat. They watched in silent awe as Thomas walked briskly across the street with a coffee and small bag in hand, coming to the building, which was _their_ actual destination. The guards opened the large glass doors for him and he disappeared into its interior.

There was a moment of quiet reflection among the group before Gus started to walk towards the building and Fet grabbed at him quickly. “Hey! Where you goin’?!? We should have a plan, no?”

“I got a plan, esé.” Gus spat, lifting up his shirt and showing his companions the gun tucked safely into his belt. “I’m gonna cap his _puto_ ass, once and for all …”

“Are you mad?” Dutch threw her hands up in an exaggerated motion. “Do you not _see_?!” She pointed at the doormen who were _very obviously_ not just doormen. They were human _walls_. And when the door was open for a brief moment, giving a preview beyond the tinted glass, they had seen at least triple the number of guards within. “They are _all packing_ , love. This is gonna take some … finesse.”

“Yeah man. Der’s no way we’re gonna be able ta _force_ our way in. We’d need an _army_.” Fet agreed. “Maybe we can just … I dunno … _ask?_ ”

“I mean …” Dutch shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. Ferraro and me have a … rapport I guess?” She wasn’t convinced of her own words, but they weren’t sure how else to approach the fortified building.

Gus nodded, conceding as he took a deep breath. He calmed himself, resisting the urge to act rashly. “I’ll stay here in case they _bolt_.” Everyone internalized the word as he spoke it … **_they_** … and it made the reality of the situation even worse, as Eichhorst was clearly not a prisoner. He had gone out for _bloody coffee_ , after all.

Leaving the boxer standing on the sidewalk at the alleyway, Dutch and Fet approached the building with confidence. As the doorman eyed her, she flashed a giant and gorgeous smile but he seemed unphased by her charms, putting his hand out to halt her entry.

“Possiamo aiutarti?” He questioned and Dutch shrugged innocently.

“Parla inglese?” She asked in butchered Italian, but the meaning was understood and the guard eyed her giant husband next. Fet easily had four to five inches on the man, but he was stalky and she had no doubts that he would easily win in a fight with Vasily.

“May we help you?” The doorman repeated, this time in English.

“Absolutely, love.” She said with confidence. “I’m here to see Mr. Ferraro.”

“Is Mr. Ferraro expecting you?” He asked, never losing a step. “There are no visitors expected.”

“No, he’s not, but–”

“Please make an appointment with _him_.” The man interrupted, suggesting the conversation was over.

Now Fet spoke, spreading his charisma thick as he deployed his dimples, pairing them with his own innocent smile. “Dat’s da problem, ya see, we _lost_ his new number.”

“Ma’am–”

Dutch smiled again, intensifying her own brand of flirtatious charm as she touched the man’s arm gently. “Can you help us out? We came _all this way_ … can you just … _ring him up_ and give him an ask?”

“I’m sorry, [signora](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FMa%2527am&t=MjE4ODZhYzFiNmQ3YmE4ZGQ2YmZlNWJkMjRlMmVlYjZiMDhhNjIwYSxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1), that’s against–”

“Ah come on, man.” Fet sighed. “Ya wan’ us ta just hang out here, in _your face,_ until he comes out? Cause, we will. We came all dis way–”

“If he knew you made us wait outside for hours in the cold?” The frigid wind picked up just as she said it, solidifying her words to the guard at the _perfect_ moment. “He’s not gonna be happy, _love_.” Dutch threatened.

The man looked at his companion, who nodded back at him. “Alright. You can speak with him at the reception desk. But first …” He gestured for him to stretch their hands outward as his companion patted them down _very_ thoroughly.

“Ooooof.” Dutch didn’t appreciate the thoroughness at all and she protested passive aggressively. “Paranoid much?”

After the search was done, the companion opened the door and the man whom they were speaking with closely followed them inside, leading them to a large reception desk and speaking with the young woman behind in Italian. As the woman reached for her phone, Fet turned to look through the tinted glass, spying Gus when he saw the man approaching the guard.

Fet squinted. He was an older man, with ash-blonde hair, a salt and pepper beard but the long and ugly scar down his left cheek was _gone_ now. “Wait a minute …” He said lowly and Dutch looked up at him, seeing the confusion on his face.

“What is it, love?” She asked but the woman was holding the phone out for her to receive, and she could hear the distant ringing on the other end of it. Reaching for it, she looked back towards the entrance to trace her husband’s _truly concerned stare_. A significant chill ran down her spine as the uncharacteristic surprise in her husband’s tone began to frighten her.

  
  


> _Gif edited from @starwarsolo_

“ ** _Dat man_** … I seen him before …” Fet’s nose scrunched up and the man seemed to be speaking with the guard that was left outside. The man smiled and the guard shook his head. The man laughed and the guard shook his head. The man pointed inside and the guard shook his head again, standing his ground between the man and the door.

“You sure?” Dutch questioned and the receptionist cleared her throat, attempting to get Dutch’s attention for the phone.

  
  


“Yeah … He was in Phila – [Ой лайно](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fuk%2FOh%2520shit.&t=N2NhZDFkZDA0MzA4ODY3MmY2NTgyYTE2M2UyMzhhOGM0MDFiMmY2MSxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1)[!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fuk%2FOh%2520shit.&t=N2NhZDFkZDA0MzA4ODY3MmY2NTgyYTE2M2UyMzhhOGM0MDFiMmY2MSxYUTk0T1NRTA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F164908342843%2F83-revelations&m=1)” There was a simple shrug from the man and then a movement so fast that neither Dutch nor Fet really saw what occurred. They only saw the guard crumple to the ground and the man reached for the handle of the glass door confidently. He swung it open wide and stepped over the fallen guard as he entered the building, tugging on the lapel of his coat to straighten it.

“Holy … _shit_ …” Dutch backed up against the desk. “What the fuck was–”

The guards within were already moving, running as fast as they could towards the intruder as they pulled their weapons out, all screaming in Italian as they pointed their guns at him. Gus was already moving, running for the door as fast as he could before everything, all at once, went to hell.


	60. 8.4 - Revelations

**[Take Me Home - Phantogram](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5KVQyvDLZTjWG0rHepocAI&t=ODg3NzdiOTIwMTU2MzRlYzc0YWU5ODlhZDgxNzQ3ZWQxNWI1N2YyOSx6dzJFSFdqSw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165055432773%2F84-revelations&m=1)**  

>   _Seems so long I’ve been waiting_
> 
> _Still, I don’t know what for_
> 
> _There’s no point escaping_

Quintus did exactly as Ozryel instructed, without even the slightly hesitation. He _ran_. He _shifted_. He _traveled_. At first, he was doing it so quickly, he grew increasingly dizzy with each trip. He didn’t realize how much the task actually took from him, as he usually did it infrequently and it absolutely didn’t help that his tackle of the physically strongest being in Heaven had required a _lot_ of divinity. He would need to _rest_ soon.

At some point during his rushed flight, he put on his human facade again, just in case others in Heaven might have been warned of his escape. They might already be looking for him and so he _blinked_ away again and again, taking himself progressively farther and farther away from the battle.

 

> _All Rupert Gifs in this section are from the fabulous[@5disilk](https://tmblr.co/m-QqWBvbsFrbeh5otNgbkwA) blog_

Unfortunately, he could not be afforded such a luxury quite yet. If he dallied in _any_ place for too long, he knew The Traveler might find him. Eventually, he even doubted the validity of even trying to run from the archangel, but Ozryel had told him and he listened. He _also_ knew that _just continually running_ wasn’t a viable solution for the long term either. Eventually, with his mind racing and his body aching, he conceded defeat to his growing fatigue. If anything, he needed to stop and _really_ consider his options.

_Damnation_.

Stopping in a small square, riddled with tables, he breathed deeply, closing his eyes to calm his heart as he eased himself down carefully into the hard, metal chair, as he realized the true extent of the agony that raged over his being.

The fight with Gabriel had taken its toll, especially when Quintus had drawn upon his divinity. The pain of calling upon such power closely rivaled what Michael had inflicted upon his mind. As the lightning had sparked across his dhampir skin, it was an agony that reminded him of his last moments on Earth when Michael had urged him to _pull_ his own body back together.

 _Damnation_ , now even the spot where Ozryel had clapped him on his back was _hurting_. No, that wasn’t quite right was it? It was … _itching_. It was itching incessantly.

He had to get back to Earth, however it was possible. That damned Wheel hadn’t helped him at all. She just sent him into a state of wild panic, from which he was _just_ beginning to recover. Though, even now, each time he closed his eyes, it was still all he could see. _Those rainbow eyes_.

_Focus, Quintus. Focus._

What now? What was next? What were his options now? The pool did not work. According to the Wheel, that left _only_ the _Staff_ and the _Gate_ , but the _Gate_ was closed and Michael was in the wind with the _Staff_. He needed help now, but he had no idea who to trust anymore. Only Sempronius and Abraham came to mind, but he knew he would need help that mere human soul could not provide.

His nervous habit kicked in again, and he found himself fidgeting with that damned shell, having fished it out of his pocket without realizing it and he stared at it, considered Ancharia now and her words that she was _not_ his enemy. That the the Order of Agraman was _not_ his enemy. The consideration briefly crossed his mind and he pushed it aside. No. Absolutely not. He was not _that_ desperate yet.

He _needed_ to get back to Sempronius and Abraham, but _first_ … There was only _one_ person he could think of that still had answers he was lacking. Someone he felt he could still trust in some way. She kept Dawn’s secret as fiercely as he did. Besides, he had promised her he would find her, didn’t he? _The Princess Prophet._

He stood and began to walk, letting his mind reach out to _find_ Hathų and guide him in the right direction. As he passed the reflective windows of the shops that lined the square, he scratched at his back again, through his clothing. His body was finally letting go of the previous pain, but that _goddamn_ itch on his back was unrelenting. It was really was right where Ozryel had _slapped_ him and its annoyance was unabating. Turning his back to the windows, he pulled the clothing away to reveal his skin and the glowing, burned mark beneath it.

 _What the hell … ?!_ He had never seen this glyph before, but he _knew_ what it was and he _knew_ why he knew. She had both given him the mark and at the same time the _knowledge_ of what it was.

Quintus actually laughed out loud as his heart relaxed even more and relief replaced his unease. He shook his head and laughed one more time as he covered his back and realized he had been running wildly for **_no reason_**.

 _This was the mark of_ **_Obfuscation_**.

_Such a clever, clever, clever devil … wasn’t she?_

No, he shook the thought from his mind. Actually she wasn’t a _devil_ at all and he closed his eyes tightly as he _cringed_ at the thought that crossed his mind next. Thousands of years of hatred, thousands of years of revenge, but that was _not_ her. Maybe it had been a _part_ of her, a broken and pathetically _lost_ shadow of what she used to be, but the _Master_ was not _Ozryel_ , and he closed his eyes even tighter. _Ozryel was not his enemy._ Not even in the slightest.

**_She was his family._ **

_Damnation._

* * *

****

**[Sagrad Прекрасный - Grimes](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2DMDhTPBW7V1ROVlIPRbNT&t=ZGIxNTJlYTU4OTIzOWE5NWQ0OWQ1YzQ5NjM4NzIyMjljYWVkZWI4Zix6dzJFSFdqSw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165055432773%2F84-revelations&m=1)**  

> _1, 2, 3_
> 
> _I can’t see_
> 
> _And I, baby I don’t wanna know_
> 
> _They can say I can’t sing_
> 
> _But right now I don’t wanna know_

There were _literally_ millions of possible books, volumes, scrolls, manuscripts, and more to search through. After searching the first ten that Sempronius absolutely _knew_ there HAD been an image of Michael within and yet found _nothing_ , they realized they would need to solicit further help. They needed _more eyes_.

Now a somewhat large group of unfamiliar individuals all sat around the same corner of the Hall, sprawled out across many tables. He offered to bring in his own friends. He could have enlisted the help of _thousands_ , in fact, but Abraham refused, citing that it needed to stay within ‘the family’. Sempronius was a patient man, so he let it slide without sufficient explanation as he assumed the reason would eventually be revealed to him.

Everyone worked in silence. After each person painstakingly looked through every single page of each book, Sempronius assigned them next. Eventually, Ephraim finally spoke, breaking the silence, as he pushed a large and impressively old book towards Abraham and pointed. “Uhh … you seein’ what I’m seein’ here?”

Abe glanced over quickly and waved the Doctor off. “No. That’s _Raphael_. We are looking for Michael.”

Ephraim inched the book the closer as his voice became uncharacteristically serious. “That’s _not_ what I’m talking about, Professor.” Abe looked up into Eph’s intrigued eyes as the bald man pushed the book closer. As Abe’s eyes floated down to the illustration, he saw immediately what Ephraim was referring to and his body was riddled with goosebumps as he stared at it silently.

It was not the mocha-skinned, purple-eyed angel clothed in a white robe that caught their attention, nor was it the overly serpentine features that he had in this painting, with his cheekbones protruding much like Quinlan’s did. No, it was not the angel himself that stole their attention, but it was what he was holding.

An intricately carved staff with spectacular designs. Its silver shaft was longer than the angel was tall. Its top housed the 4 stones, attached at the top of the pole, in a circle, each pointing outward, perpendicular to the shaft itself.

“What is it?” Sempronius asked, glancing over after listening to the strange interaction. “He’s correct. That’s Raphael.”

“So, why are we looking for this exactly?” Nora asked from her table. She hadn’t really pushed for much information in the beginning _as she was simply happy with being included in something exciting again_. “Why do you need to see what _the Governor_ looks like again?”

“Mr. Quinlan requested it.” Abraham responded curtly, forgetting that most of the people he had enlisted actually had no idea what he was talking about.

“Mr. Who?” Nora shook her head with a shrug, glancing back at the Professor. “I thought this was for _you_ , Professor?”

“He’s a friend. We met him _after_ …” Eph jumped into to answer the question as he started to explain without fully considering his words and his sentence trailed off slowly. Mr. Quinlan was their friend _after_ she _passed_. “He’s the Master’s son.”

“Wait, _his son_?!” Nora choked.

“He is _not_ the _Master’s_ son.” Sempronius spoke up quickly, almost insulted by that statement as he firmly corrected Ephraim.

“Sorry, Semproni, but he _is_ the Master’s son.“ Eph turned and bit at Sempronius. “I’m sorry, but _who are you again_? Why are you here?”

“Sempronius Densus **_is_** Mr. Quinlan’s Father.” Abe answered bluntly.

“Oh.” Eph looked around with mild embarrassment as Sempronius stared at him with eyes that caused the Doctor to swallow hard. “Sorry, I didn’t real–”

“Wait …” Nora asked again, her inquisitive nature showing. “So, he is _not_ the Master’s son, then who is he?”

“ ** _He’s the entire reason we won. He’s the reason we beat the Master. He’s the reason humanity didn’t fall._** ” Rebecca answered with firm words from her seat next to Eph, never bringing her eyes up from her own book as she flicked from page to page. She knew she had actually been the one to push the button and put an end to the Master once and for all, but she also knew that it was Quintus who had afforded her that opportunity. They were _all_ in his debt. “If he needs this, then there’s good reason for it.”

The tension was thick and Eph shifted uncomfortably. Rebecca and Nora knew each other professionally and he knew they didn’t really get along, but that wasn’t surprising, given his history with both of them and Rebecca never really got along with _any_ women that she felt threatened by.

“Right.” Nora quipped back and turned around to her book, not wanting to look in Eph’s direction at all. “Ok then … but I don’t even know what I’m looking for … some kind of hint maybe? Big white guy, right?”

“He wears _silver._ ” Miriam said from the other side of the table from Nora. “If you see someone in _silver–_ ”

“ _Or Gold._ ” Sempronius interrupted, correcting. As the illustration might be older and have been drawn before the fall of Ozryel, and therefore before Michael began to wear the Right Hand’s armour. “Silver _or_ Gold.” He stated again, looking around the tables at all the new people that Abraham had brought to help them.

“So a dude in _silver_ or _gold_. Great. That only describes three quarters of the angels I’m seeing everywhere.” Jim complained loudly from the other side of Nora.

“He’s dark-skinned as well.” Abraham tried to help further. “Just ask for clarification on any dark–”

“He’s not dark-skinned.” Sempronius corrected as he turned to give the Professor a perturbed look, cocking his head to the right just as Quintus often did.

“But you said he was _colored_.” Abraham countered with annoyance as he threw his hands up in frustration. He had been looking for someone as dark as Raphael or possibly darker and Sempronius snickered at his ignorance.

“Colored yes. Dark, no. You misunderstood, Professor. It is a well known _joke_ in Heaven. **_Michael the Thief_**.”

Abraham didn’t take well to Sempronius’ condescending, correcting tone and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms to express his displeasure. “Very well … _explain it to us then_.”

Sempronius _loved_ to share his knowledge and he leapt at the chance to do so now. “Everyone knows that Ozryel and Michael were born together. _Others_. Celestial twins, if you will … “

"Wait, who’s Ozryel?” Nora asked lowly, turning around from her seat at the other table again.

“Ozryel is the **_Angel of Death_**.” Sempronius answered matter of factly. “The First of the Living Creatures. The First to breath existence into this world. He is the Right Hand of God.”

“He’s _The Master._ ” Ephraim cut in.

“Wait … What?!?” Nora’s face grew wide with shock. “Now you’re telling me that _The Master is a … goddamn_ **_Angel_**.”

“ _Was._ Apparently.” Eph laughed. “Fucked up, right?”

“Well, not exactly … No.” Sempronius’ face lite up further as he started to explain. “The Master was only _part_ of a _Fallen Hayyoth_.”

“Hayyoth?” Jim jumped into the conversation. “Wait, you mean The Actual _Four Living Creatures_? The lion, ox, man, and eagle stuff? The ones who guard the throne of God.”

“Ah …” Sempronius was pleased with Jim. “You are familiar with Judaism then?”

“Yeah, I dated a hot Jewish girl in college.” Jim smiled with pride.

Sempronius ignored his comment fully, correcting further. “But, it’s not exactly like that, you see–”

“ ** _Mr. Densus._** ” Abraham could see that Sempronius was about to go off on a tangent and he rolled his eyes. “As much as everyone would benefit from this … _lesson_ , might you explain this _joke_ first?”

“Ah. Certainly. The _joke_ in Heaven _is_ that Michael is quite the thief because he stole all of his older brother’s colour while they were in the womb together.” Sempronius didn’t smile often, but he did so now as he nodded with a smile. Looking around, he quickly realized no one else was amused, even in the slightest, and he grew a bit uncomfortable, feeling that he needed to explain the humour in detail. “You see, just like _Quintus_ , Ozryel is an albino.”

“Wait, wait. Who’s _Quintus_? Is that Mr. Quinlan?” Nora asked but Eph interrupted.

“So … Wait, did I miss something?” Eph furrowed his brow as he eyed everyone around him. “ _He is dark then? Isn’t that what you just said?_ ”

“No, no. Not _dark_ … at least not all over. Well, actually it _is_ all over.” Sempronius sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Spotted. He’s _very, very_ spotted. Ozryel is _striped_ and Michael is _spotted_. Ozryel is _without_ color and Michael has an _abundance_ of it.”

“Spotted?” Rebecca’s interest was piqued immediately, something clicked in her mind as she spoke with an almost _uncertain_ tone. She was normally so very sure of herself and Eph noticed her uncharacteristic tone immediately as he looked to her, his head cocked sideways. “You mean … he’s … **_freckled_**?

“Yes. Spotted. _Freckled_. Same thing I suppose.” Sempronius seemed annoyed no one laughed at the joke even after his explanation as the situation only seemed to grow more serious.

“So … you’ve actually _seen_ him then?” Abraham asked.

“Oh yes. Many times. He only started to wear the armour again when the siege on Earth began.” Sempronius nodded. “He was preparing for battle.”

“Battle? What battle?” Ephraim laughed, mocking the statement with utter disgust. “Heaven did _nothing_ to help Earth.”

“I know.” The centurion agreed with the Doctor’s statement. “And I don’t fully understand _why_ no action was taken. _No one does_. I spoke to many, but the consensus was, it was because Heaven relinquished a presence on Earth hundreds of years ago …”

“So they just washed their hands of us?” Jim laughed with disdain. “Figures. I knew there was a reason I stopped going to church.”

The conversation was losing traction and Abraham attempting to divert it back on course. “So, what are we looking for, Sempronius? An general idea, please? I’ll have to go back through the books I’ve already vetted because I was looking for someone of a much different complexion.”

Sempronius sighed. “So, he’s usually depicted wearing silver _or_ gold, but _gold_ is his original metal and colour. Very _freckled_ , very broad shoulders, an inch or so shorter than me, quite **_blonde_** …”

Rebecca looked at Abraham at the last word before she diverted her gaze back to Sempronius, locking eyes with him like a hawk. “Green eyes?” She asked.

“In fact … _yes_.” Sempronius could not help the chill that ran down his spine as the she continued to stare at him, her eyes unflinching. He glanced down at her open book, but she was turned to a page with nothing but text. “Did you find his _image_?”

“An overly square face?” She pressed again.

“ _Yes_.” Sempronius could read the tension building among the three, as Eph looked at Abraham for answers and then at Rebecca, shaking his head, not fully understanding yet.

“Thin lips?” The Professor asked next as her questions began to dawn on Eph and the Doctor looked up, but Abraham was already staring back at the illustration of the staff in Eph’s book as he whispered next. “ ** _Oh god._** ”

Everything, _all at once_ , shifted into place within his impressive mind. Everything that had occurred, from the beginning of the Master’s plot … succinctly and beautifully finally made sense to Abraham. Sempronius didn’t need to answer verbally, as the look on his face was clear enough.

The Wheel’s prophecy of the storm and the flood. The DNA test. The plane. The torture. Why the Master, after thousands and thousands of years, finally attempted to take back Earth. Why the Master suddenly felt brazen enough to challenge the other Ancients as well as Heaven and most importantly, **_why Heaven didn’t fight back_**. Abraham had been desperate to know _why_ and now it all made perfect sense. He stood quickly, commanding. “Everyone … **_get out_**.”

“Wait, what?” Nora asked with confusion. “You are the one who asked **_us_** here to help–”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Martinez.” Abraham apologized for his bluntness. “I apologize for my bluntness, but … **_get out_**. Now.”

His rudeness was enough to discourage most from staying and they shuffled away with annoyance, mumbling under their breaths, however Eph and Rebecca attempted to linger. “Both of you, too. **_Out_**. Forget you were here. Forget what you heard just now, for your own sakes.”

“Professor–” Eph attempted an argument but the Abraham’s mind was clearly made up.

“ ** _Forget what you heard here._** ” Abraham shook his head, repeating.

“But what does it even mean? It’s just speculation.” Rebecca asked, leaning back in her chair. “So Michael is–”

“If you two value your _existence_ together … It’s best if you two make yourselves scarce.” Abraham interrupted. “You should go now. Do not speak of this, even amongst yourselves. Not even an utterance. Is that understood?”

“We came to _help_ , Professor.” Ephraim tried to argue. “This is our fig–”

“ _This_ fight … the entire time, even from the beginning …” Abraham whispered the words, feeling the true gravity of the unravelling situation. “Has never been _our_ fight. It is bigger than anything we could have imagined, Ephraim.”

There was _just enough_ fear laced in his tone to encourage both doctors to stand, giving up the fight for more information as Abraham was not a man to scare easily. “We are here when you need us … or when _he_ needs us.” Rebecca made the offer before they were gone.

“Do you recall when he started to wear the armour … exactly?” Abraham asked once the room was clear, expecting Sempronius would know it. He was one of the most observant people that the Professor had ever met.

As Sempronius uttered the date, Abraham slid back into his chair as his palm came to his forehead. This was the date that Abraham died. The day **_he_** came to heaven … the day the first person who _knew_ she was **_Nephal_** came through the gate.

Sempronius had been unusually tight lipped during the entire exchange, slipping back into his own chair as he folded his arms. “What are they not to speak of?” Sempronius was normally a patient man and Abraham could tell that this was pulling on his last nerve. “Abraham …”

“Sempronius … _we simply_ **_cannot_** _speak of this right now_.” Abraham conveyed the danger of his words with exaggerated eyebrows. “We need to find Mr. Quinlan … _immediately_.”

“He said he would return here. He’ll be back.” It was clear that the Centurion was done with games. He stood, collecting his jacket and began to walk away without another word.

“Sempronius?” Abraham asked with confusion, standing suddenly. Sempronius was the _only_ one that could be of use to him right now. “You’re just going to leave? We still have–”

“Quintus will be back, but I cannot help you if you will not trust me.” He never turned back to address the Professor nor broke stride. His patience was now gone, but his voice was still calm. “If you decide otherwise … Quintus knows where to find me.”

Abraham slipped back into his own chair as his hand came to his forehead again and he let out a massive sigh. As the reality of everything sunk into place, he thought over everything again.

“ _Well … shit_.”

 

* * *

 

Hathų walked down the path towards her home. She had checked the meadow and verified all of their children and Thunder were still safely tucked away in its windy confines before she returned to their house. Hoping with all of her heart that he would be sitting at the table within, she reached for the handle and a shadow appeared on the door before her.

“Princess.” Quintus said and she turned around to face him, now looking human, and she swallowed deeply. “I believe it is time for a **_candid_** conversation.” A moment of silence passed and she nodded slowly. “We can go somewhere more _secure_ to speak, if you wish?” He offered.

“No. That won’t be necessary.” She shook her head as she knew he meant the interrogation rooms. “This place is _safe_ to speak within.” It was warded just as the rooms and she reached for the handle, which would only open for her, and she pushed the door open for him.

Quintus nodded in acceptance. “Of course it is.”

Stepping in first, she looked around and her hope, that Michael would be sitting at the table, quietly died as the seat was empty, but her head cocked to the right as she eyed the grey-haired man who was hogtied in the corner of her living room. His mouth, hands, and feet were all bound, tied together in such a way that prevented him from moving entirely, but his _silver_ eyes remained wide with surprise and fixed upon Quintus, never even regarding her presence at all.

“ _Who is that?_ ” She whispered the question and Quintus stepped forward, cocking his head inquisitively to the right.

“I … I _know_ this man … I have _seen_ him before.” The dhampir blinked. “He was a merchant I dealt with in the 12th Century, in Portugal.”

The man mumbled something through his confines, but neither Hathų nor Quintus moved to touch him as they stared in quiet awe, still confused by the situation.

“But … why is he here now?” She stammered. “ _In my house?_ ”

“Shall we ask him?” He stepped forward and her arm flew to stop him, understanding that there was only _one_ person who could have left him here, confined in this way.

“Wait … I … Yes.” She sighed releasing him to kneel to the man.

The man mumbled again and finally Quintus reached out, relieving him of his gag. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“My name is _Abyad the White_ , Quintus Sertorius and you need to release me at once.” The man said with conviction.

“Oh really?” Quintus laughed. “And why should we do that? Who has done this to you?”

“You don’t understand, **_boy_**. We are _all_ in danger. **_He_** has found a **_vessel_** and he is returning to Earth. We are–”

Quintus replaced the gag and stood again as Abyad’s eyes grew massively wide, overflowing with confusion, as he began to struggle violently now, attempting to scream through the gag. “Oh yes. **_That_**. _I am already quite aware of_ **_that_**.”

“Wait … what is he talking about?” She pressed, grabbing Quintus’ arm as he stood. “ _Who is returning to Earth!?_ ”

“The Morningstar.” He said nonchalantly, as he turned to survey the rest of the room.

“ ** _Lucifer_**?” It was a whisper as her hand came to her mouth. “And … _his vessel_?” Quintus didn’t respond with words. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow to her as the answer to that was already quite obvious. “No. Oh … God.”

“Unfortunately, God has chosen to sit this one out entirely. It is up to us.” The oddness of this statement was that it wasn’t a joke, nor was it just a passing comment. Quintus said this with such conviction that a chill ran down her spine as she realized he did know _this_ for fact.

Approaching the table, he pulled a chair back and waved his hand for her to sit and she complied. It was now time for a parlay and he sat across from her, interlacing his fingers as he leaned over the table. “Now … shall we begin, Princess?”


	61. 8.5 - Revelations

**[Make This Right - The Toxic Avenger](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7mSmt2yar5VUXZNBV4AnpE&t=YWRlMDIyN2Q4OTA4MzRmZWVhM2Y2NjUwNGQ2NjUzYWMyYzNiZTE4YSxZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1) **

Michael thought about coming down into the building through the roof. To take each floor and search it, but due to the obfuscation, he had no idea where she was and he _could_ hear the guards on every floor. If he started high, she would run low. The opposite was possible, but it would be harder for her to run high at least. He would prefer not to spook her if possible, but that was unlikely at best.

He watched them converse and then leave Augustine in the alleyway before walking in. He resolved to let _them_ find her for him. Let her friends draw her out and then he would take her from them. He listened carefully to the men who were watching the video camera feeds in the hidden room behind the reception area talking on their radios.

 _Ah hell_.

They were already expecting _them_. They had been given their pictures already and a command came through the earpiece of the larger doorman telling him to bring them inside so they could be _dealt_ with properly. Michael was certain no harm would have come to them, but he didn’t have time to delay, as he had no idea how much time it would take for Raphael to re-open the _Gate_. All he _knew_ was that they would be on his trail immediately.

No, he couldn’t delay any longer. He approached the doorman who was left behind and flashed his largest smile, as he reminded himself of one special rule. _No killing, Michael._ Just take it easy and use your charm and …

Well, he corrected himself, at least don’t kill anyone who wasn’t _damned_ that is, otherwise he would be sending them directly into Heaven’s arms. He wasn’t feeling 100%, but there were less than fifty men inside. _Meh. Easy peasy._

He looked up into the large man’s black eyes and read his sins. _This one was a good man. Damn. Oh well._ Michael reached up and touched the man’s forehead as the giant cringed at the intrusion.

_She’s on the 4th floor._

After he took the information he wanted, Michael pulled his hand away. The guard tried to regain composure from the violation as his hand flew to his head, but Michael laid his index finger across the man’s lips and whispered. “Shhhhh.” The man crumpled to the ground.

_The Whisper of God._

* * *

**[I Tried - Lucy Rose](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4se824mgP4CQf301DxlvRc&t=ZWYwYTY2ZmFiMjEyNTY4NWFkNGIwMDM0NWQzMzQyMTk2Nzk4MTg1YixZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1)**  

> _Give me a chance to grow_
> 
> _Give me a chance to be better_
> 
> _Give me a chance to grow_
> 
> _‘Cause I want to show you_
> 
> _That inside there’s something_

She wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, unsure exactly of what she might see behind it. _Was she a monster now_? The guilt weighed heavily on her heart and she wasn’t at all relieved to just see _herself_ staring back, exactly the same as she had been. Some part of her wanted _something_ to be different because she _felt_ fundamentally different inside.

She felt … _so very selfish_.

Thomas was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Everything she was doing was because she was _selfish_ and now people were dead because of it. No, not even that, people were wiped from existence. She wondered if they had been _good_ or _bad_ people, but … as he said, the world was not so black and white, was it?

 _But, should she really get what she wanted then? Shouldn’t there be some kind of retribution for her actions? Should she be ashamed of what she had become? Of what she allowed to happen? Did she even deserve to find a happy ending? Would_ **_he_** _even still love her after he found out?_

But, the one thing the Nazi had said that drove her to maintain hope was that _if_ she was so terrible, then would she even be feeling guilt at all?

She remembered Quintus’ words, assuring her that eventually it would get _easier_ , and for the first time, she hoped he was right, because the torment that she felt right now was beyond anything she thought she could handle.

She had killed before, but that was different, wasn’t it? That was a matter of life and death and … _love_. Was this not the same? Was this not …

“Am I doing the right thing?” She asked out loud, speaking to herself again for the first time in months as she looked at her face in the mirror but it wasn’t _her_ that she was asking. She was asking Quintus and she waited for a response, but none came.

_How foolish … How selfish …_

EL _had_ asked her if she was sure she wanted to go down this path and for the first time since she made her deal with the devil, she began to doubt.

As EL had pointed out, Quintus hadn’t been back to see her at all and what if he hadn’t planned to? What if … she swallowed hard. What if he was there that day to say _goodbye_? What if he was there to … _move on_? There to urge _her_ to do the same? In that room, he told her she deserved to find what he had found and … her tears welled with the doubt that was crushing her heart.

_Foolish. Selfish … Evil._

She put her patched clothing back on, not bothering to retrieve a new shirt from the closet when she had gone in there to replace the guns left behind last night. Instead, she wore her Duct Tape patches with _pride_ , running her fingers over their surface as she remembered taping up his unconscious head the first night they met.

_Focus on the good stuff. Yesterday is dead. YESTERDAY IS DEAD._

Thomas was coming through the door when she came back downstairs and she acknowledged him with a nod, taking the drink from his offering hands and as the warm liquid hit her mouth, she sighed heavily, her shoulders relaxing with relief.

“Thank you.” She said with genuine intention.

“Of course. You will need your strength, for both of our sakes.” He waved off her gratitude. “No need to–”

“No.” She looked at him. “I mean … _Thank you_.” She was talking about their discussion and his realization of that fact was immediate.

“Of course.” He nodded and smiled simply before turning and pointing to her duffle bag and his luggage near the door. She packed it before the shower. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes.” She took another large gulp. “As soon as EL gets back, we’re heading to–”

Her sentence was abruptly cut off as gunfire began to pop below.

 

* * *

 

Fet shielded Dutch and they watched with wide eyes as the older man threw up his hands to show he was _seemingly_ unarmed and harmless as he smiled gloriously.

_Uh oh._

A chill ran up Fet’s spine as he tried to inch them back behind the desk, but the cute receptionist stood, raising a gun to them. “No. Please do not move.”

“Ah come on! You gotta be kiddin’ me?!?” Fet began as he raised his hands in surrender, but his attention was immediately diverted back to the escalating situation near the front door.

“Listen up guys.” The older man said with a calm and amused voice, just a hint of a chuckle lingering in the delivery of his words. “This _really_ doesn’t need to get _ugly_. Put the guns down and just walk out of here.” He shrugged innocently, pointing to the door. “I’ll let you go right now.”

Ignoring the words, they circled him, yelling in Italian. Fet could only assume they were telling him to get down as they aimed their guns towards his face and the man continued to smile.

“I _really_ hate guns, guys. I’m serious, this _doesn’t have to get ugly_ , I’m just gonna hop on the elevator really quick and then I’ll be out of your hair. You’ll _never_ see me again. Cross my heart, swear to _God_.”

Fet’s attention was entirely focused on the strange man and it was only when the front door began to open again that he even remembered Gus had been running towards the entrance. The Boxer flung the door opened and rashly barged into the middle of the unfolding chaos. As the older man turned around to eye Gus, he looked down at the firearm in the Boxer’s grip. “ ** _Ah hell_** , Augustine …”

_Augustine? What the–_

And then the first gunfire began to pop.

 

* * *

 

Without any hesitation, Dawn grabbed the sword and sheath, swinging it over her back as she walked towards the door, grabbing the duffel as she passed it and Thomas called out.

“Perhaps we should _wait_ for them to take care of things!” He stammered an argument but regardless, he was already following quickly behind her. “Has the _Light Bringer_ returned?”

The door was already open and she was barrelling down the long hallway towards the elevator as she answered him. “I don’t need him for _this_ , whoever they are, they’re so gonna regret starting shit in _our house_.”

 _Our house?_ She had meant _his_ house. She had meant to say _Quintus’_ house, but after it escaped her lips, she smiled and accepted it. _Their house. His and hers. Fuck whoever was down there._

She hit the button and waited patiently as the gunfire continued, stopping for a few seconds at a time before it would erupt again and the elevator doors finally opened. She stepped within and eyed Thomas, who hesitated.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here.” She offered him but he stepped into elevator beside her and she pushed the button for the ground floor.

 _“Scheisse.”_ Thomas swallowed hard, straightening his suit as she smiled at his discomfort.

Drawing the gladius blade in her right hand, she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before she reached for one of the guns holstered on her thighs.

“Perhaps I should take one of those as well then.” Thomas pointed to the other Uzi, and she handed it over to him as a familiar voice spoke from behind them both and her confidence bloomed further. 

> “Ooooooo. _What’s the gun for?_ ” EL asked with curious excitement. “Are we about to have some fun?”

The elevator began to move downwards.

 

* * *

 

**[Shots Fired - Le Castle Vania](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F30xcAlU1PqV0gFILqZ1A1P&t=OTYxOGM3YmFjMTdiZmRmYzg3ZjFjYjQ0NTQxZGY2MWFjMDczZjllNSxZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1) **

No killing, or rather … _no_ **_good_** _man could die_ and that **_most definitely_** included Augustine. Dammit. Unfortunately, that left using the _Voice of God_ out too. Not everyone survived its usage and besides, it only worked on _new souls_ and there were presently more _old souls_ than new. Besides, in the Hacker’s current condition, he wanted to avoid it entirely.

Michael was still too weak to _sprint_ to all the bullets and pluck them out of the air, so instead he used his speed to step in front of the rash Boxer, turning his back to the guards and wrapping his arms around Augustine to shield him as the gunfire started.

_Ah hell._

He fucking _hated_ guns and he _hated_ getting shot and when the first bullet ripped into the flesh of his back, he gritted his teeth fiercely. He had offered leniency, but he was done playing around and this was about to _ugly_. He would have preferred to remain _somewhat_ human, but he had no energy or time to waste as the gunfire had already alerted her, no doubt. Halfway through the barrage, he called forth his armour and let his human facade slip away entirely.

Michael’s hair shed its false ash color and became richly golden, seemingly growing a bit younger. As his teeth, cheekbones, and ears became pointed, his skin grew marvelously spotted and the bullets started to ricochet as they struck celestial metal instead of the meat of his back. It was the sudden change of his appearance that caused the guards to halt their attack, whispering amongst themselves in Italian.

Pulling back from the Boxer, Augustine looked up with the widest and most childlike eyes imaginable, his face covered with the look that Michael was all too familiar with. The look of a mortal seeing a _god_ for the first time. Plucking the gun out of the Boxer’s hand, Michael shook his head with disappointment and Augustine watched without protest as Michael _broke it in half_.

“No killing, _Augustine_.” The bullets embedded in his back began to fall out from under his armour and hit the ground with tiny clinking noises as the guards took a step back.

“Ay … Dios … mío.” Augustine’s Catholic upbringing overwhelmed him and he made the sign of the cross. His right hand touched his forehead, then the middle of his sternum, then his left shoulder, and finally the right shoulder before he dropped to his knees before the angel, kissing his own fist.

“What … _da_ **_fuck_** …” He heard Fet whisper in the distance.

“Ok. _Ugly_ it is then, boys. Just remember, I offered.” Michael’s lip turned up with an annoyed sneer, turning back around to fully face the guards. “So, who’s first?”

 

* * *

 

[New Scene (feat. Ofelia) - Lazy Rich Remix - Felix Cartal, Ofelia](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4zip5v4a4SJ7T7Qp9r7Fgk&t=Mjk2NjI0OWY1ZDgwYTlmYmE0Y2I5NjcwODg5OThkMjRmZjA3MWE1ZSxZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1)

Fet was certain Gus was a dead man, but suddenly the man was holding him and then, he wasn’t even a man anymore. When Gus dropped to his knees, Fet shook his head in disbelief. When the bullets began to hit the floor, Fet took a deep breath and Dutch clutched his arm tighter in utter silence. And when the … _man_ … turned around, Fet could _only_ see their lost friend in his overly spotted face. There was something familiar about his armour, but for the moment, Fet could only focus on one thing as he stared with an open mouth. He could only see Dawn’s face in the man’s. “Oh … _fuck_.”

Then the golden-haired man began to down the guards, left and right, one by one, with absolutely beautiful precision. Fet thought Quintus had been elegant, but this man made him seem like a _child_.

They tried to shoot him again but after realizing the futility of their guns, they tried to run, but he moved as fast as _Quintus_ did, grabbing each one, relieving him of his gun as he broke it in half before he either hit them, threw them, or gently placed his finger on their lips and whispered: “ _Sssshhhhhh_.”

Fet swung around when he felt Dutch let go of his arm. A cowardly man had come around them in his retreat and grabbed her as a human shield, placing his gun against her temple and Fet watched with terror as he backed her away from him.

 _“La ucciderò! Non muoverti!”_ The _last_ guard standing said and Fet could only assume it was a threat.

“No no no no! Please!” Throwing his hands up in surrender, as panic hit him immediately. “Hey, der ain’t need for that! Please! Just let her go! We ain’t even with–”

Fet would have given _anything_ in that moment to have been paying attention and his heart fell as he imagined that she was already lost to him when he felt the wind brush against his cheek and the golden-haired man … _man?_ … was already between them, holding the gun in the guard’s grip as he pointed it directly up and towards the ceiling and the guard pulled the trigger several times. Never moving his eyes from the attacker own gaze, the strange man grabbed the guard’s other hand, peeling his grip away from Dutch’s neck, allowing her to lunge forward, falling into Fet’s waiting arms.

The guard attempted a retreat, taking several steps backwards, but the golden-haired man’s grip was unflinching and when the guard’s back hit the wall, the man took squeezed his throat and then began to lift him up slowly, bringing the guard’s feet more than a foot off the ground as he slid him up the wall.

The man with the golden hair leaned forward to speak to him. “ ** _You_** … you are a **_nasty one_** , aren’t you?” Fet thought the strange man might have been _smelling_ the guard but from their vantage point, he couldn’t be certain. “Do me a favor …” There was a hint of a chuckle in the man’s voice. “Tell my **_brother … he can fuck off_**.”

His … brother?! _Oh fuck._ It was in this moment that Fet remembered where he had seen the armour before as goosebumps flooded across his arms. “ _Oh … shit_ …”

And the man with the golden hair and spotted skin snapped the guard’s neck like it was a twig.

 

* * *

 

EL looked down suddenly, cocking his head to the right as he stared at the bottom corner of the door while the elevator continued to move downwards before sudden panic hit his face. 

> “No, NO, _NO_ , **_NO_**. UP! UP, UP, UP, UP, UP!!!!” His voice was rushed and strangely concerned as he pointed at the buttons. “UP AURORA, UP!!! ROOF, ROOF!!! NOW!!”

“What?!? What is going on?!?” She reached out and pressed the button as he instructed, but it was far too late. The ground floor had already been selected and the elevator would stop there first, regardless. “EL, WHAT IS IT?!”

But that answer was very obvious as the doors slowly opened and she locked eyes with Michael’s from across the large room. 

> “It’s **_Michael_**.”

 

* * *

 

**[Soul Siphon - Daniel Deluxe](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3WHGMx4tWMsJdhHEVmG4ox&t=MTI2YjVkMjY3YWU5YTQ1M2FlMDRhODM4NzQwNWU0YTcyNDAzZjY0NCxZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1) **

Dutch squeaked a tiny whimper at the snap, burying her head into Vasily’s shoulder as Michael turned to the armed woman behind the desk. Everyone but the receptionist was down and when he looked at her, she carefully set the gun down on the counter. _Good Girl._ He pointed to the chair and she sat down slowly before he turned his attention back to Vasily and …

“ ** _Eunice_** … Really?” Michael’s voice was rich in disappointment as he chastised her as a father might. “How did he even grab you? I know you’re more than capable of defending yourself.”

He shook his head as he began to walk towards the elevator.

“Who _da fuck_ is Eunice?” Vasily asked unable to react in any intelligent way, his arms still holding Dutch tightly.

“But … only my mum knows my real nam–” Dutch began to explain with a whispered stammer, but all attention turned to the elevator as it dinged and the doors slowly opened revealed her within.

There was a moment of incredible stillness as no one immediately moved. She stood completely rigid, with a gun in one hand and Quintus’ all too familiar sword in the other. He didn’t want to spook her until the Nazi’s eyes grew wide at the site of **_him_**.

“ ** _OH!!! Scheisse! Scheisse! Scheisse!_** ” The strigoi’s fingers flew to the operating panel and Michael could hear him desperately hitting the ‘Close Door’ button repeatedly as the archangel began to move, his eyes finally focused on the _all too familiar taller form_ who stood _behind_ her. His little brother’s standard devilish grin painted across his youthful face.

“Dawn?!” Augustine called out from behind everyone. “DAWN!!”

“You … _little …_ **_shit_**!!!” Michael screamed in disbelief and the volume of his voice shook the room as EL’s mouth curled up into an open mouthed smile as he winked at his brother with his rainbow eyes.

“DIA … DAWN!! _WAIT!!! FUCK!!!!_ ” Michael was already bolting towards the elevator as he tried to force himself to _sprint_ , but he was already too weak to make it the full distance before the doors closed on his face. “ ** _Don’t FUCKING run from me_**!” He bellowed upwards as he pounded his fist against the metal outer door.

His fingers curled into the door’s crack and he forced the doors open as the metal buckled under his incredible grip. The elevator was already at the second floor and he leapt up, grabbing hold on the bottom with one of his hands as he allowed himself to be taken upwards with it.

“ _Holy fuck …_ ” He heard Vasily utter under his breath as Michael rode the compartment upwards and he began to tear chunks out of the metal carriage to get within.

 

* * *

  

> “He’s weak.” EL looked down towards the sound of his older brother furiously ripping the elevator apart from beneath.

“Weak? That’s weak!?!” Dawn listened to the metal buckling under her grandfather’s fury. “How can you tell?” She asked in disbelief as the noises definitely didn’t sound _weak_ and the compartment rocked back and forth. 

> “Because if he wasn’t weak … he’d already have you.” EL pointed up, towards the escape hatch. “He’ll be through the bottom before we make it to the top. You gotta move your ass, Aurora. MOVE … YOUR … ASS!”

She sheathed her sword, holstered the gun, and threw the duffel over her shoulder as she looked up at the hatch. Thomas understood immediately without the need for words, cupping his hand for her to step into and thrusting her upwards as she pushed the hatch open, breaking its locking mechanism with extreme ease. Once she had pulled herself the rest of the way through, she reached down, offering a hand to her much bigger companion and she lifted him up with even more ease.

 _God damn she was getting stronger_.

As she grabbed the hatch to shut it behind her, she looked down into the elevator compartment in time to see a fist break finally through the bottom panel, grabbing and bending the metal enough to see his green eyes looking at her through the new hole.

 _“DON’T RUN FROM ME, GODDAMN IT … DIA—_ **_DAWN_** _!!! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND–”_  

> _“I understand_ **_everything_** , _grandfather.”_ She pushed this to him through her mind and his eyes widened.

They were almost to the top floor and she released the hatch door, allowing it to swing and slam shut before she turned around to secure a tight grip on the cable in the center of the car just above her head.

“ ** _Scheisse_**.” Thomas followed suit, grabbing the cable above her hand as he cursed under his breath. She looked up at him, waiting for his compliance and he nodded at her to continue as she smirked.

Thomas looked at the uzi shaking in his grip and handed it to her. She aimed at the cable’s attachment to the compartment and unloaded half of the magazine into it sending the elevator, and Michael within it, crashing down below as they rode the cable the rest of the way up.

They swung in unison on the cable and Thomas grabbed the outer doors, holding them close as she gripped one side, then she stepped onto the ledge to grip the other, She pulled the top floor’s elevator doors open, allowing them both to step through.

The door to the stairs was locked and she ripped it open. The door to the roof was locked and she ripped it open as well. As they ran across the rooftop, they came to the edge and her stomach turned. 

> “Still afraid of heights?” EL snorted an insult from the next building, a mere six feet away.

“Always.” She backed up for the leap and Thomas followed suit as EL made a point that she hadn’t actually realized until the words leaked from his playful mouth. 

> “You know, Aurora. It’s never been _the heights_ that have terrified you.” He explained as she leapt through the air with her eyes tightly closed. “It’s always been the **_Fall_**. We were all _made_ to fear … the **_Fall._** ”

 

* * *

“The stairs! Come on!” Gus pointed but Dutch heard the gunfire pop above them and she pulled Fet back sharply from the front of the elevator door as he was staring up in awe watching the golden-haired man rip apart the bottom side of the compartment. The three heard the cable break and they turned, jumping in unison as far as possible. Covering their heads as they hit the ground, they shielded themselves from the debris flying everywhere around them.

Fet was the first back to his feet, running to the shaft as he knew Michael was below the crumpled metal. “Ah fuck! HEY!” He screamed. “Are you still alive?!”

“A little help please.” The voice was muffled, but very much alive albeit annoyed, and Fet tried to pull on the damaged door but the voice called from _underneath_. “No … _UP PLEASE_. LIFT IT UP.”

Gus joined as the men knelt, doubting that they could move the metal compartment at all as they torqued their leg muscles and grunted furiously. The man was pushing from underneath and when the entire thing began to actually _move_ , Dutch moved back with wide eyes. “Holy _shit_.”

After it was off the ground a number of feet, she could see the man was on his back, pushing it up with his legs before he had enough room to spin his body around, placing his feet back on the ground as he lifted it entirely out of Fet and Gus’ grip with his back.

“Holy shit.” Dutch whispered again.

“Da fuck …” Fet backed up, watching the man push it entirely up and over his head as he walked himself out from under it. The second he was clear, he let it drop again behind him.

“Thanks, big guy. ‘Preciate it.” The golden-haired man smiled with genuine appreciation, slapping Fet on the shoulder as he walked by all three of them on his way to exit the building.

“Wait!” Gus called out. “She went _up_.”

“Exactly.” The strange man was still walking towards the exit. “But she’s already on the next building.”

Fet and Gus were already moving to follow and Dutch reluctantly joined them. “Wait! Who are you? WHAT ARE YOU?!” She called out frantically but the man was already pulling the door open while they clamored to catch up to him.

Sirens blared in the distance and street was relatively empty, given the sudden gunfire, but there were still a handful of people scattered around, most of which had their phones out in an attempt to record whatever was happening inside of the building.

What happened next was something that humanity hadn’t witnessed in hundreds and hundreds of years. What happened next would be something that the world would hear about as the cameras were already rolling. What happened next, regardless if it was his intention or not, would fundamentally change the world.

The golden-haired man took several steps away from the building and looked up, cocking his head left and then right as if he was a bird. He listened, turning around and around before he stopped, facing Eastward just as the three had breached their way onto the sidewalk. The man thrust his shoulders back as if he was throwing something _off_ of his body and impressive golden wings expanded from nowhere.

“Ay Dios mío.” Gus whispered again, taking a dramatic step backwards.

They were not entirely metal nor were they entirely organic, but they shined with the aurora of both. He spread them wide and a tiny flicker of golden electricity danced over his body as he took flight, dust and wind kicking up around them.

“OK … WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” Dutch thrust her hands into the air wildly as the wind began to blow. Just a tiny bit at first and then it grew more furious as she screamed into the air. Dutch was normally the calmer one and Fet found himself staring in continued awe, unable to really react again.

“Dat …” He answered his wife with utter confidence as he finally remembered the armor from the _Lumen_ , from the Sun Pages about the Fall of Ozryel. “Dat’s da fuckin’ **_Governor_** , guys.”

“The Governor? Governor of what, bruh?!?” Gus asked.

“Of _Heaven_.” Fet said with absolute seriousness. “ _The Governor of_ **_Heaven_**.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me?!” Dutch sighed dramatically, turning to look back at the figure as he climbed higher and higher in the sky above them. She was an Atheist, even after the Strigoi outbreak, as that had been all explained with **_science_** … hadn’t it? “What the _fuck_ is going on?!?”

 

* * *

 

When he passed the height of the building, the wind kicked up _furiously_ , fighting him and his flight towards his fleeing progeny. The breeze turned savage as it fought him and Michael saw her leaping across the next building.

“Fuck off, _father_ …” He bitterly spat into the wind, a sense of ultimate defiance overwhelmed him as he cursed _the Creator itself_ … **to its** **_very face_**. “Whatever you have _planned_ , you’re gonna have to do better than a _fucking breeze to stop me_ …”

Perhaps the words were harsh and ill-planned as the weather began to turn amazingly torrential all around him in mid-flight and he felt the shift in the atmosphere and knew his father was preparing the rushed creation of at least one tornado. He had seen it happen before, many times when the _Creator_ wish to enact incredible destruction, but it mattered not, he was already barrelling down towards her and the Nazi like a missile.

As he hit the roof, cratering the surface with his impact, he landed right in front of her and she came to a skidding stop. He stood and looked down into her matching eyes as she drew her blade.

“Dia–” He stopped and breathed. Don’t incite her, he urged himself. Calm. Be calm. “Dawn.” He put his hands up, showing her he didn’t want to fight and the Nazi stepped behind her. _Fucking coward_. “I just want to talk. Can we talk?”

“No.” She said with gritted teeth. “We can’t.”

She was damn fast now, but even in his weakened state, he was _faster_. Side stepping her perfect lunge, he made a grab for the handle of the sword, but she pulled back with an angry grunt and she attacked again. She as _good_ , better than she had been before. It was obvious Lucifer had given her things already.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Michael tried to urge her. “Pleas–” 

> **“I’ll talk to you, Brother.”**

He heard his little brother’s voice mere inches from his ear and Michael turned in shocked surprise. The Morningstar had afford her an opportunity with the distraction and she didn’t miss the moment as she sliced upwards, perfectly placing a deep wound onto his left cheek where he had worn that scar for so many years.

“Fuck …” Michael stumbled, pointing at Dawn with one hand as his hand came to hold his cheek together with the other while his mind stitched his body back together. EL cackled madly. 

> “I can’t believe you fell for that!” His little, shitty brother chuckled. “Oh man! You aren’t feelin’ so good right now, are you?”

Michael and Dawn circled each other but he still refused to draw Ozryel’s blade. He could, at this very moment, solve the dilemma with one strike of the celestial steel. If she didn’t exist, then there would be _no way_ for his brothers to trace anything back to him. EL would no longer have a foothold on this world and …

 _NO. Never. Whatever was happening, she was still_ **_his_**.

“Dawn. Whatever he’s told you … you’re smart enough to realize he’s the _King of Lies_.” 

> “Told her?” EL circled Michael independently and she silently watched, listening to their bitter reunion. “Oh Mikey, I didn’t _tell_ her anything but **_the truth_**.”

“Truth?!” Michael scoffed. “I’m not even sure you know what that word means!” 

> “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?!?” EL roared with laughter. “Like you haven’t been _lying to everyone for over 400 years_ , you fucking hypocrite.”

“Everything I have done has always been to protect _our family, Dawn._ To protect _you!_ ” Michael challenged and EL’s face grew angry as he sneered back. 

> “Protect family?” EL scoffed. “ ** _I WAS YOUR FAMILY. I AM YOUR FAMILY! AND YOU TURNED YOUR BACK–_** ”

“That was _your_ choice, Lucifer. **_YOU fled to Hell._** That was _your_ choice and _your_ choice alone. Don’t take her with you.” Michael bit back. 

> “My choice? That was _Heaven’s_ choice … Heaven’s laws … Heaven’s _decree_. Heaven made me choose, Michael … between _her_ and–”

“And you attempt to chastise _me_ for making the same decision?” Michael countered. “For choosing _love_ over _obedience?!_ ”

“You speak of the importance of truth, grandfather.” Dawn finally spoke and Michael turned his attention back to her fully. “Then tell me … _Did you ask him to die for me_? Was it _your_ choice that he had to _die_?”

_Ah … crap._

“Dawn. It wasn’t that simple. Ozryel knew about you and–”

“No.” She cut him off. “It’s a _yes_ or _no_ , question. Did you ask him to die for me?” EL snickered in the background.

“He chose to die for you.” Michael tried to explain, but he could already tell by the furrow of her brow that her mind was made up. “I gave him a _choice_ and he chose–”

“So that’s a _yes_ then.” She shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes and Michael’s heart sank. He could _feel_ the pain that was emanating from her and he fought his own emotion over the agony of it. He knew how crippling this pain was because he had felt when he lost Ozryel. The pain of losing an _other_.

“Don’t you understand?” His voice was pleading now. “They would have _hunted_ you _both_ down. This was the only way for _you both_ to exist.” 

> “He’s lying.” EL called it. That little shit _always_ knew Michael’s traits. The King of Lies was so good at reading it in others. “There is no way Heaven would have just _allowed_ the dhampir to continue existing. He’s bluffing.”

“There is no existence I want **_without him_**!”

Michael attempted a step forward to grab for the sword and her eyes became wild as she tried to strike at him again. Knowing she might attempt another sidestep, he cut off her escape, wrapping his arms around her as he grabbed both wrists and attempted to quiet her.

“Oh mein Gott.” Thomas finally gasp from behind as he looked up into the sky. The multiple funnel clouds that had begun to form over Rome finally started to touch down. “What is this?! What is happening?!?” 

> EL looked up, throwing his arms in the air with wild amusement. “WE AREN’T ALONE! HAHAHAHA!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP US, DADDY! FUCKING TRY IT!”

Michael smiled as he realized EL didn’t know the _Creator_ was actually there to stop _him_. Right now, he _needed_ to talk to her in private and the Morningstar’s constant commentary was _not_ helping. He closed his eyes tightly as he realized what he had to do next. What he _came_ here to do. He would not destroy her. He _could_ not. He loved her with nearly every ounce of his soul, but he would _have_ to break her again, but this time _fully_. He had left her with power before but now, he would have do to take it all. He would have to do what he had failed to do so many years ago and he would have to finish it this time.

Shifting both of her tiny wrists into his larger one, he freed up his right hand and brought the ring to his lips, speaking with shaking tenderness a word into it as it began to burn with an amber glow.

##  **“Peredazore.”**

**_Diminish._ **

“No. NO! NO!!! YOU FUCKING COWARD!” EL screamed and Dawn fought him with all of her _halfling_ strength. “AURORA, let me in! AURORA LET ME IN!”

“I’m so very sorry, my child.” Michael whispered in her ear as she bucked wildly like an animal. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Dutch and Fet were still staring in the direction of the angel when Gus heard something down the street behind them.

“BACK INSIDE! BACK INSIDE!” He pointed down the street, slapping his friends on the back to get their attention, as the first twister touched down three blocks away.

The force of its current ripped the cobblestone street and buildings in its path apart as it headed directly towards them.

“Ah fuck!!!” Fet pulled Dutch desperately back into the building so they could find shelter and she stared at the cyclone as he dragged her through the doorway.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” It was a confused whisper as she stared at the glass and he had to tug her again.

“Bad _shit_.” Her husband answered. “ ** _Real_** bad shit.”

 

* * *

[Thunder - Imagine Dragons](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5VnDkUNyX6u5Sk0yZiP8XB&t=NTcyNzVkODkwYmNhZDA1YzI0NTIxMjFiZDdjYjNkZjMxYTg3MzI1YyxZOFBvUDdNQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165238148693%2F85-revelations&m=1) 

> _Just a young gun with a quick fuse_  
>  _I was uptight, wanna let loose_  
>  _I was dreaming of bigger things_  
>  _And wanna leave my own life behind_  
>  _Not a yes sir, not a follower_  
>  _Fit the box, fit the mold_  
>  _Have a seat in the foyer, take a number_  
>  _I was lightning before the thunder_

Flashbacks of her childhood streaked across her mind and she remembered _them_ being friends. She remembered him coming to see her and they talked about everything. Life, being different, being _special_ and then she remembered when he came into her room that night before her fifth birthday. The last time she would see him until now and he had whispered _that word_ into _that ring_ and then … he had burned her. He had _changed_ her.

EL’s screams were almost distant as panic overcame her. 

> “AURORA, let me in!”

_No_. She fought the urge to let EL take over again. She remembered what had happened last time. NO. 

> “AURORA LET ME IN! FUCK!!!”

NO. Not again. Never again. Never again … It was Lilith that she heard next. Her voice was so confident and eerily _beautiful_ , as it echoed in her mind.

**_“How to fell a Hayyoth.”_ **

EL’s screams slowed and then slowed even further. Everything slowed to a terrifying halt and Dawn _shifted_ , stepping out of Michael’s grasp several feet before everything started to flow again. The smile that spread across her face was absolutely glorious as she felt the river of time flowing all around her for the first time. It had always been there and she always _knew_ it, but for the first time, she could almost _see_ it.

“What the …” Michael stammered as he looked down into his empty arms. 

> “What the …” EL said in unison with his big brother.

She spent what felt like _days_ with her sisters, getting beaten down and bloody, and she had never been able to do it, until right now. As she stared back into her grandfather’s matching eyes, she winked, raising the blade as she sliced again. “Round two, you lying jackass.”

He would have just dodged the sword again, but she shifted through time as she moved, cutting while she did, so that he could not retreat from the metal and it sliced deep into his bicep, perfectly placed between two folds of the armor, before she spun time up again. The first one had been easy, but the second time she _bent time_ , it made her head begin to spin.

 _Fuck._  

> “How are you _doing that_?” EL asked, but she was already attacking again. “You’re moving like **_the Wheel_** moved …”

The next strike was across the opening of the armour behind his right knee and he buckled as the blade severed his tendons. He grabbed at it to force himself to heal as quickly as he could, but she was already shifting back in front of him, grabbing his right arm and his eyes locked onto hers.

Michael tried to resist but he was only growing weaker as he pieced himself back together with the power of creation. “He’s _not_ your ally.”

His divinity was nearly depleted so she couldn’t take more from him, but _her own power_ , as she was learning, had been pooling within her for months. Unlike Quintus, she had her own divinity and she grinned marvelously as she realized how truly unique and powerful she actually was.

“Maybe he’s not … **_but neither are you._** ” Green currents rolled over her skin like water as she looked down at Michael first and then at the ring that was _still_ glowing bright with his command to 'diminish’ her and her smile only widened further. “And now … It’s time for _you_ to be brave for _me_ , grandfather.” She forced his wrist towards his own body, fighting and winning against his growing weakness as she bent the ring and pressed the symbol against his skin as he screamed out in agony.


	62. Visual Aid - Scrutinize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will eventually move this into Chapter 57, but I'll just throw it here for now.

###  [Chapter 57](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/26877609): Interlude 7 - Between the Essence and the Descent

Her fingers travelled up to the two tiny scars above his temple. “These too?”

“Do you wish to _scrutinize_ me, dragonfly?” The wording was flat in execution, but his expression was pure curiosity. “To … _inspect_ me?”

“No. No. No.” She stuttered as she pulled her hands back from his skin and he sighed from her retreat. “I was just curious. I didn’t mean to to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“There is little discomfort in discussing these things for me any longer nor do does your scrutiny cause me _any_ amount _shame_.” He looked at her carefully, taking her hand and putting it against his scarred cheek again before nodding in compliance with his own thought. “Come. Up.”

 

Coming to his feet, he offered a hand down to her and aided her in joining him in standing. Her blanket still clenched tightly to her chest. “I have accepted that I am what I am. What I _can_ and _cannot_ be. I embraced that _long ago_. So, ask your questions. Any and all you wish. _Scrutinize me_ , but know that if I comply, it will be your turn next.”

 

### Jaw dropping Quinlan by [@quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com)

  


# See full NSFW Version **[HERE.](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/165619650300/instagram-post-by-morgana-alexander-sep-22-2017)**


	63. 8.6 - Revelations

**[Take Me Home - Phantogram](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5KVQyvDLZTjWG0rHepocAI&t=OTg0ZjkxYjgwNTUyYWY5ODZjMDVmM2VlYWZkNmU5MjFmMWM5ZjM0OSx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)**  

> _Walk with me to the end_
> 
> _Stare with me into the abyss_
> 
> _Do you feel like letting go?_
> 
> _I wonder how far down it is_

Uriel touched the newly formed wall with his finger, pushing on it to test its strength. _Yup_. It was definitely a solid wall. Not much of the  _Great Hall of Rebirth_  was left because Ozryel had ripped most of the building completely apart, but this wall held up perfectly, likely by design. The roof was gone, the floor was cracked open, the wide crevices likely miles deep and only a handful of walls were left standing.

He could hear the archangel bellowing from the cave behind the new wall and he cringed. Gabriel wasn’t going to be happy when they got him out and he wasn’t looking forward to the impending fit. From the witness accounts, Ozryel  _and_  Honoria’s son worked in glorious unison to actually  _defeat_  Gabriel in battle. He was sad that he missed it, actually. Just the look on the archangel’s face would have made him laugh for millennia.

“Ok.” Uriel stepped back, pointing at the newly created obstruction and instructing his guards to hack at it. “Have at it.”

If he was Hayyoth, he might have been able to deconstruct it himself, but Uriel was  _just_ Elohim. He did not possess any of the powers of God and a job like this would take the  _Power of Creation_  itself. He watched with calm as the guards attempted to break at the strange new stone with axes, but nothing was even making a dent. He wasn’t sure what the  _hell_  Ozyrel had created it out of, but it was likely something entirely  _new_  and … damn tough.

_Dammit, Brother._

“That’s enough!” After a few minutes, he called them off of their futile task. “This isn’t working.”

“Where’s Raphael!?” Gabriel bellowed from within. “GET RAPHAEL!” That was an excellent question and also a concerning one, because no one knew where  _anyone_ was at the moment. The  _Nexus_  was down and the  _Nexus_  had  _never_  been down. Everything and everyone was in a mild state of panic, which only grew worse as the minutes rolled on.

“Can you  _really_  not destruct it!?” Uriel screamed at the archangel loudly through the wall. Gabriel had already tried many times, but using the powers of God were something he had always struggled with,  _especially_  the  _Power of Creation_. “TRY AGAIN!”

There was a moment of intense silence as he assumed the angel was trying  _yet again_ and then he heard Gabriel scream and hit the wall within, “FUUUUUCK!!!”

Yup, that would be a  _no_  then.

No, they would need Raphael for this task, but getting Gabriel out wasn’t what he was the most concerned with at the moment. It was already growing more difficult for him to focus  _without_  the comforting buzz of his brethren in his mind and the crippling loneliness was starting to affect him negatively. There was a moment he thought he might descend into the same panic the lesser angels were feeling but the network suddenly reset and Uriel let out a sigh of relief from the reconnection with everything.

_Thank God._

A hand was on his shoulder and he already knew who it was. Turning, he could not help but embrace the violet-eyed angel who had just blinked into the room behind him. Everyone knew that Raphael didn’t appreciate being touched, but he seemed to understand and appreciate the dismay his absence caused and he returned the grasp with warmth.

Uriel pulled back quickly. “I’m sorry … I’m just …”

“It’s alright.” Raphael gripped his shoulder and gave it a gentle and reaffirming shake.

“What happened!? Where have you been!?” Uriel asked, attempting to hide his evolving uncharacteristic concern.

“ ** _Ozryel_**.” A one word answer was all that was required.

“Sir!” A Bene Elohim spoke from behind. “There are reports that there’s been massive destruction at  _the Citadel_.”

“What? Destroyed?!  Good lord. How much–” Uriel began to ask for confirmation but Raphael waved off the concern as he took a step towards the wall.

“Don’t worry. That was just me. And it was just the  _cell block_. I’ll fix it later.” The hayyoth waved off the statement as he placed a hand on Ozryel’s new wall and smirked, knocking on it with his knuckle to test its strength as he chuckled lowly, shaking his head in half amusement and half annoyance. “It’s quite impressive …  _Sneaky, sneaky, brother._ ”

“You … Wait … What?” Uriel choked the question out. “You  _destroyed the Citadel_? Why would you–”

“Only a  ** _section_**  of it.” Raphael shrugged innocently. “As I said, I’ll fix it, but …  _priorities_.”

“Ozryel?”

“ ** _Ozryel_**.” Raphael confirmed with a single nod.

“Damn.” Uriel shook his head, rubbing his neck with disappointment. They had underestimated their oldest brother. They should have known better and he knew their own hubris had made them weak to her dastardly attack. Uriel was usually harsh on himself and he was replaying everything over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what went wrong so it would never occur again.

“Hello! LITTLE HELP PLEASE!” Gabriel screamed from within and Raphael nearly giggled. Uriel could read that Raphael was actually more amused than annoyed and it was likely due to the fact of his larger brother’s defeat. The archangel’s smile brought strange relief to him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Uriel cocked his head as he asked but the archangel ignored the accusation entirely.

“You might want to stand back.” Raphael smirked yet again and Uriel felt reassured suddenly, waving for his men to step back. Uriel expected the hayyoth to  _just_  tear down the wall, but  ** _everything_**  started to rumble and he backed his men up even further as the beautifully rich violet crawled over the archangel’s skin. The mocha-skinned angel turned around, facing them as he locked his rich and emotive eyes with Uriel’s. The low thunder began and Raphael lifted his arms up as the electricity reached out all around them and his smile widened further. “I would suggest …  _a bit farther back than that, Brother._ ”

 _Holy mother of_  … The air electrified with  ** _The power of Creation._**

Everyone retreated with angelic speed from the building and watched in awe as Raphael rebuilt  _the entire Hall_  in a matter of moments. It had taken Ozryel years to put it together, and the Bene Elohim whispered from behind as Ozryel’s little brother reformed it in less than a minute.

Other than the Hayyoth and Uriel himself … other than those who were present the day  _Sadum and Amurah_  fell,  _no one else_  knew what Raphael was truly capable of, and he was shocked that the archangel was so brazenly flexing his divinity in front of …  _everyone_.

As the last piece of stone shifted back into place, Raphael and Gabriel emerged from the front door, standing side by side and the larger angel slapped an appreciative hand on his little brother’s back. “Thanks.”

“Ok.” Uriel stepped forward. “So, now what?”

Raphael closed his eyes gently and a small smile blessed his thick lips as the  _Nexus_ flooded with a familiar and terrifying rhythmic humming. Uriel’s mouth fell agape and even Gabriel stared at Raphael with wild shock.

 _Dear God_. It wasn’t possible. This … this  _tone_  … this  _music_  … They were hearing  _The Song of Heaven._  Raphael was calling the Army of Heaven to mobilize … without the need of Gabriel’s Trumpet … with the power of  _his mind alone_.

“You …” Gabriel stared, more confused than he had ever been in his entire life. “How is–”

“How is it poss–” Uriel asked at the same time.

“There is no time for answers now.” Raphael dismissed them their pending interrogation. “Right now …  _we find the boy_.”

“The boy?” Uriel questioned. “Shouldn’t we be looking for Ozryel? Isn’t she more dangero–”

The look that Raphael flashed him caused his sentence to halt mid-execution. “I believe, if we find the boy, we will find  _Ozryel_  as well.”

“But … where do we even start?” Gabriel asked.

“He wishes to return to Earth, at  _any_  cost.” Raphael explained. “He’ll go for the Gate as soon as I reopen it.” He closed his eyes again, the song changing slightly as he instructed the forces to mobilize  _to the Gate_.

“So, we’re gonna bait him then.” Gabriel smiled wickedly.

 

* * *

 

**[Finder - Moderat](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1e8N6JN3AJcDS4DU8dal4X&t=MGY1ZDQ5ZTllYmI5YmMxODk3YjY3NWI2YzNhMjkxMTUwZGJhY2Q0ZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) **

 

****_Earth._ ** **

The twisters subsided and an eerie calmness surrounded the area as the wind ceased entirely. Michael took a deep breath, realizing that not even his  _Father_  wished to witness what was about to occur to him.

_Hypocritical coward._

He braced himself as he already knew  _this_  agony. He was actually very familiar with  ** _this particular pain_** , but not because he had inflicted this punishment on so many of his own brethren in the past, or even his own  _sons._  His boys had just been babies and their connection to him, as well as the Nexus, was  _just_  beginning to form when he had  _diminished_  them … when he  _broke_  them  _beyond repair_.

No, he knew  _this_  torture because he had felt it thirty years earlier when he had done it …  _to her_ , when he had felt it  _through_  her. He recalled that incapacitating sickness that had washed over him that night in her bedroom and just before she pressed his  _own ring_  onto  _the skin of his neck_ , he stopped fighting and  _completely surrendered to it_.

Though he actually secretly harboured desire for punishment over all the wrongs he had inflicted upon her, this submission was far more strategic than simply that. It was beautifully deliberate because he knew  _he_  was prepared for what came next, but that  _she_  would not be and she would feel it through  _him_  just as their connection had allowed  _him_  to feel it through  _her_  in the past. And now it would be even worse as their link was magnitudes stronger than it had been all those years ago.

This tactic wouldn’t have been his first choice as the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again, but he knew it was his only chance for a possible retreat. Given the time bending he had just witnessed from her, he needed to center himself and recharge before approaching again. Besides, he was not a lesser angel and whatever damage the ring  _might_  do, nothing would be permanent. He was  _Hayyoth_  and his divinity would  _always_  regenerate, even when entirely depleted.

It also didn’t help that everything he was feeling emotionally, he was in turn, projecting onto her, and  _vice versa_. His anger towards Ozryel’s lies, towards his father’s meddling, towards the  _boy’s_  defiance … it had all been contributing to her emotional state and he knew very well that  _hers_  was also fueling his.

 _No_. This cycle needed to stop. His mind fluttered with a single sentence to her before the ring began to inflict its torment. 

> _“I’m so sorry for everything I_   ** _have_**   _done to you and for what I_   ** _must_**   _do now …”_

He let the burning feeling of it wash over him entirely as he screamed in agony and the ring began to drain him. Through the hot torture, he could hear the little shit, realizing what Michael’s sentence meant, and he smiled as he thought:  _Too late, Little Brother_.

 

* * *

 

> “Aurora, STOP!!! DON’T–” EL had screamed, but Michael was right, it  _was_  far too late.

She felt a brief and fleeting moment of satisfaction as she smelled his flesh begin to sear but then an overwhelming sickness rushed over her, starting in the pit of her stomach and emanating out with fury. If she had known what was causing it, she would have pulled back sooner, but confusion set in for a moment and the feeling only worsened.

_HOLY JESUS, FUCK._

She could feel herself … draining away. She could feel herself being …  _pulled apart_. Oh god. She had felt this …  _before_. As she ripped herself back, she stumbled away from her grandfather, losing her footing as she tripped over her discarded duffel bag.

Her mind swam with dizziness as she attempted to come to terms with what she just felt. It wasn’t the pain. She had felt pain before and it was indeed, intense, but that wasn’t what had left her gasping for air. No, it was the  _disconnect_  that ultimately crippled her. The last time she had felt anything like that, was the night Quintus died. That paralyzing instant when he  _snapped_  out of existence and entirely away from her. Every one of  _those emotions_  came rushing back and even though EL was demanding that she let him in to take care of Michael, she refused.

“ _You … _“ She stuttered. “_ You fucker_ …” She whispered with a sneer at Michael through gritted teeth. Rolling forward, she attempted to get back to her feet before he could, but the  _Governor_  was already standing, brushing himself off. Though his stance wobbled significantly, he was clearly stronger than she was and was quickly recovering faster than she was able.

“Wait …  ** _I’m_**  the  ** _fucker_**?” He bit back, grabbing his head in his hand as he took a deep breath. “ _You’re the one who did it._ ”

She needed to react, but she couldn’t and he took a step towards her, causing her to scramble away with desperation. She needed to refocus herself, but she doubted her ability to access  _time_  again. Her hand brushed the duffel bag again and her mind leapt at a  _possibility_  and she could see EL nodding behind Michael. Locking eyes with the advancing angel, her right hand sneakily breached the main zippered compartment of the bag, masking the action with another feigned scramble away.

“I’m sorry.” He said, reaching down to grab her and finish the diminishment, but her fingers found what they were searching for and she gripped tightly as she mustered  _all_ of her speed and strength. “ _This won’t be permanent._  You have your own pool now. I can  _see_  it now. You have evolved  _beyond_  being breakable. I just need to  _talk_  to you  _away_  from Luci–”

As the silver book connected with his jaw, she felt the reverberation of the Celestial Blade shard within it. Lucifer had described it  _as_  a weapon and no matter what form it was in, it could cause damage. Right now, she used it with pure blunt force. The shockwave of the impact thrust her backwards against the ground, but it sent Michael flying back through the air, his back connecting with the Nazi that was standing haphazardly behind them.

“No!!! Eichhorst!” She found herself screaming as she bolted forward and the scene unfolded painfully slow. As they tumbled over the roof ledge, entangled in each other’s bodies, they plummeted below and she could only watch in horror as Michael landed atop the freed strigoi. After they savagely impacting with the pavement below, neither moved. 

> “We have to go now.” EL encouraged but she hesitated. “He won’t be out for long.”

“Not without–” 

> “Do you want to face him again right now!?” EL chastised.

“He’s  _out_.” She gripped the book in her hand as she considered jumping down below. 

> “Trust me.  _Not for long_  … We need to go. NOW AURORA.”

She was fully prepared to ignore him until a familiar figure rounded the corner of the alleyway below, running as fast as he could to survey the fallen bodies. She took a sharp breath in as she stared down at her former lover. He crouched at the bodies, considering whether to touch them, a pistol firmly in his grip. She hesitated too long and as his head tilted up to survey their path of descent, he saw her.

 _Gus? Ah shit. What the fuck was he doing here?!_  Fet rounded the corner next and her heart began to race.  _Fuck. Fuck._

“What are ya doing, shortie?” Gus whispered and she could hear him even at her current distance. As he stood, she backed away from the ledge. 

> “Do you  ** _really_**  want to bring  ** _them_**  into this?” EL pushed with a malevolent smirk.

_No._   _Absolutely not._  Leaving them  _out_  was always her intention.  _Fuck_.

“Ok.” She submitted to EL’s previous instruction. “Let’s go then.” 

> “And this time,  ** _actually move your ass_**.”

 

* * *

 

Michael opened his eyes and found the big guy staring down at him with concern.

“Hey! You alive?” Vasily asked, holding a hand out to him and Michael reached up, grasping the man’s large hand and allowing the Ukrainian to help him back to his feet.

“ _Fuck me._ ” Michael whispered to himself as his hand rubbed the back of his neck. He had been hit by a Celestial weapon before, and it hurt just as badly then as it did now, but at least the last time he was expecting it. His body vibrated with electricity and he stumbled slightly before Vasily reached out to steady him. “ _Thanks_.”

“Ya ok?”

There was a tiny movement from the ground and Augustine cocked his gun, pointing it square at the waking strigoi’s face. As Eichhorst sat up slowly, he placed his hands up in surrender.

“Please.” Shaking his head at the armed Boxer, he sighed. “I am  _no longer_  your enemy.” He attempted but Eunice lunged in fury, ripping the gun from the Boxer’s hand and pushing its barrell against the Nazi’s skull.

She was already attempting to fire when Michael gripped the gun, holding her fingers tight enough to prevent the depression of the trigger. “Calm your fire, Eunice.” Michael placed his free hand upon her shoulder. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but he’s right.” As she turned and looked up into his face with unrelenting fury, Michael pulled the gun from her trembling hand. “He’s  _not_  your enemy anymore and … “ He glared down at the lap dog with eyes of flame, handing the weapon back to the Boxer. “And …  _he might actually be our only hope_.”

“Hope? Hope for what?” Vasily asked but Michael paused as something began to  _rupture_  in the world. He might have stayed to discuss this further but he felt the ice begin to crack at the Gate. Even so far away, he could  _feel_  the Traveller breaking through Lake Onondaga.

 _Shit. That was fast._  He expected to have more time, but he was quickly learning that underestimating Raphael was a bad idea. “Get what you can out of him. I’ll be back.”

“Wait … what?” Eunice asked, thrusting her hands up towards the top of the building. “Where are you going? Shouldn’t we follower her?!”

“She’s already gone.” Michael shook his head. He’ tried to feel for her, but she was hidden and now far enough away that he would have no idea where to even start looking.  _No_. Maybe if it was  _just_  her, he might try, but with his dangerous little brother in tow, there was no telling what might occur next. “Get what you can from him.” He repeated with force. “I’m gonna see what I can get  _out of someone else_. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Michael took a step away from them as he put both hands out, palm up, and began to pull the hidden staff from his armor with his mind.

_The Power of Creation._

The swirls that were beautifully inset in his silver armour began to move organically. Their movement resembled vines, growing and stretching, away from his body and towards his waiting hands. As the metallic vines stretched out from his body, they seemed to decompose into sand, dancing in the air before reforming into a solid staff.

“Ay dios mío.” Augustine stuttered as he made the ridiculous cross gesture that Catholics usually did and Michael smirked, shifting the object in his grip as one might hold a staff as he prepared himself to use it before Eichhorst meekly spoke up from his position on the ground.

“ ** _My lord_**  …” His voice was timid and restrained, unsure if he should even ask his next question. “Does …  _does he still live_? Is he alive–”

Michael could have told him  _nothing_ , prolonged his suffering, but that would get them nowhere. As much as it displeased him, what he had said to Eunice was right. Eichhorst was  _not_  their enemy and it was best for the Nazi to realize that now. “ _Yes. Ozryel is whole now. Very much still alive and …_   ** _very much on our side_**.”

He closed his eyes, drawing on the power of the staff as he pictured his small and secluded home in Heaven. Once the location was set, he looked at them again and nodded.

“Wait …  _where ya goin?_ ” Vasily asked in an almost panic and Michael only smirked further before he flashed out of their sight in an instant.

 

* * *

 

“Ok,  _waxy boy._ ” Gus turned the gun back towards Eichhorst’s face as he motioned for him to stand. “Get the fuck up … slowly.”

Fet shook himself from his stupor and turned towards his wife, who still eyed the Nazi with unfazed rage. She seemed to understand what he was about to say and without diverting her attention from Eichhorst, her hand flew up, with the index finger out, “Don’t say a  _bloody_  word.”

It was a serious situation, but Fet was already smiling when he saw the finger and he was already laughing when he spoke next. “ ** _Eunice_**?”

“I said …  _not one single bloody word!_ ” Dutch sighed, turning her attention back towards the Nazi. “Ok, fucktard. Tell me … if  ** _you_**  aren’t our enemy now and  ** _Ozryel_** isn’t our enemy? What are you saying? That Dawn is–”

“Oh no, my dear.” The Nazi gulped as his face showed something they didn’t normally see from the lap dog. His face grew solemn and uneasy. “It is so much worse than the  _Master_  ever was.”

“ _Just answer the fucking question!_ ” Gus screamed as he cocked the gun with menace. _“What did you do to her?!”_

“I did nothing, Mr. Elizalde.” Eichhorst whispered. “It is the Morning Star himself.”

Fet laughed out loud. “Oh yeah? You think we gonna believe dat shit?”

Eichhorst never flinched in his delivery as bumps flowed over Dutch’s entire body. “Whether or not  ** _you_**  believe anything, it does not change the fact that  ** _Lucifer is coming_**.” 

 

* * *

 

 **[Empire - Vancouver Sleep Clinic](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7nWXURJKkaiL9M89Pc692f&t=MTkyZDQ4NjEyNzQ5NmVlYTkyYmZmYmZmYmJlZjNlYzJmZjk4OTI4NCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)**  

> _I’m not afraid_
> 
> _In steps of faith_
> 
> _I’ll never break_
> 
> _I won’t be changed_
> 
> _The people are silent, the streets are quiet_
> 
> _I’ve been looking back on the chance I had_
> 
> _To speak and start a riot, Oh lord_

Finally dropping his human facade, Quintus sat, unmoving as he stared at the Princess Prophet sitting across from him. His hands rested on the table, his fingers intertwined. The  _Djinn_  had stopped fidgeting and now he just watched them silently from his corner.

Quintus was quite familiar with how to intimidate. He could do so like none other and he stared into her rich brown eyes with unflinching determination. The longer the silence continued, the more nervous she was becoming, eventually bouncing up from her seat and heading to the cupboard as she fished two mugs out.

“Would you like some tea? I find in these stressful situations, having a nice cup of–”

“Though I may seem calm,  _Princess_ , I can assure you, my patience is no more.” He turned, watching her pull a container down with her hands shaking. “And if I am correct, I can simply just  _take_  what I wish  _from_  your mind without …  _permission_.”

Turning back to him, shock covered her face as her mouth dropped agape. “Quintus, do not threaten me. I do not think you would attempt to…  _violate_  me.” Did she doubt him? Did she actually think he was  _bluffing_? Hmmm. Yes. She did and he smirked devilishly. He had learned very early in his life that  _bluffing_  was useless. If he was not certain he would do something, he would not threaten it.

“I do not bluff. I threaten and yes,  _Princess_ , I have  _raped_  before.” He confessed simply, a hint of sinister intention laced in his deeply harmonic voice. “ _I have even raped_ ** _princesses_**   _before._  And that was when there was no purpose behind it. Right now, I have  _much purpose–_ ”

“I …” She interrupted, setting the cups down and staring back at him in shocked silence. “No, you are bluffing. You are  _not_  that kind of pers–”

“I apologize then. I believe you may have me confused with  _someone else_.” He stated firmly as he stood slowly. Oh so very slowly. “I am  _not_  a kind person.” He stepped forward. His movement towards her was almost leisurely. “I am  _not_  a knight in shining armour.” When his steps put him within reach, his hand came up, running his fingers through a lock of her black hair. “And believe me … I will do  _whatever_  is necessary … for  _my purpose_  …  _for my love_  … for her–” 

> _Timing._
> 
> Somewhere else in Heaven,  _Sandalphon_  smiled gently as she took another drink of her coffee and flipped her book to the next page.
> 
> _It’s_   ** _all_**   _about timing._

 

* * *

 

Nothing was calculated right now. Michael was beaten and weak, flying by the seat of his pants as his mind raced over all the options. He had  _never_  been in this state before, even when he lost Ozryel. Dawn could tap into his inner well of divinity, and that put him at a distinct disadvantage. But in the end, it was the strike by the Celestial Shard that really surprised him. He wasn’t expecting that. Though, he should have been. Shouldn’t he have? Where did she even get the fucking  _Lumen_?

_Fuck._

This entire time, he had refused to believe that  _she_  was capable of being the prophecy. How could she be  _anyone’s_  downfall? She was so small and  _harmless_  and …  _shit_. He watched her grow from that tiny, broken child into the warrior that just bested him and he was strangely proud of her. He realized now, considering all of this in the split second it took to travel back to Heaven, he had clearly underestimated her, just like  _everyone_  else in her life …  _except Quintus._

 _Fuck_.

It didn’t matter now. Raphael was already re-opening the Gate and Michael hoped that it would serve as a distraction, allowing him to pop back into Heaven without the use of the Traveller’s staff being felt. He would interrogate Abyad and then squirrel  _them both_ , his wife and his prisoner, away in the meadow and hope that his little Brother wouldn’t find them. He  _needed_  to find the boy also …  _fuck_.

He popped up right in front of his little house. The glyphs wouldn’t allow him to blink within, and he grabbed the handle, flinging the door open to get inside as quickly as possible.

“Ok, Abyad.” He chortled as he took a deep step within, slamming the door shut behind him. “Time for that  _little talk_  I promised.” Michael looked up, directly into Quintus’ pale eyes.

##  _**Ah … hell.** _

* * *

**[Sail - Unlimited Gravity Remix - AWOLNATION](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3oYkwkavnMizJhYMBtiAFm&t=MzMxZGY5NWY2Y2NiNDhjYzUzZjE2NGIwNmVjZDY4OTJlMWJlNTM5ZSx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)**  

> _This is how I show my love_
> 
> _I made it in my mind because_
> 
> _…_
> 
> _This is how an angel cries_
> 
> _Blame it on my own sick pride_
> 
> _…_
> 
> _Maybe I should cry for help_
> 
> _Maybe I should kill myself (myself)_
> 
> _…_
> 
> _Maybe I’m a different breed_
> 
> _Maybe I’m not listening_

Quintus heard the knob turn first, then he heard the princess’ heartbeat jump and the door swung open as he turned to face the sudden  _helmetless_  guest. Both froze, staring at each other with a shared shock spread across their angelic faces.

He recognized the armour  _and_  the voice, but the helmet was gone and for the first time he gazed upon the Governor’s visage. His face, spotted and square. His lips, thin and firm. His cheekbones, high and sharp. His hair, golden and full. But, it was Michael’s  _eyes_  that damned the unfolding situation into chaos and sealed Quintus’ earlier speculation.

The angel’s eyes were mostly a rich green, but the outside border of the iris had a dark teal color to it. Tiny, almost unnoticeable flecks of amber danced around inside of the green closer to the center.

 _Dragonfly Eyes_.

[Quintus wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, well ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) [not exactly](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) [ that is](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) [. He maintained control in all aspects of his life, except it seemed where ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) [she](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1) [ was concerned. He could count on a single hand the number of times he lost his temper to the point of blinding rage, and there would still be fingers left.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20976869&t=NTkzYjY4ODhjOGNkNjUyNTU4YjY2YjQyYThkMjExMjBlZjgzYjVkZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)

“You … you …” He stuttered. “ _ **[Matris futuor](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may) **.._.” It was a whisper and it was all he could manage as he fought the angry tears that threatened to well up in his pale eyes. _This_  … No. He was not sure he had  _ever_  been this angry in his  _long, long_  life. He felt Hathų’s hand on his arm, but it was too late. He closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye.

“Quintus, wai–”

His fist landed into the Governor’s jaw. He actually didn’t expect the strike to connect, knowing the archangel was faster than he was, but something was off about Michael and the blow sent the hayyoth staggering back against the wall and Quintus advanced without hesitation, the Latin spilling from of him freely, as it usually did when he was  _this_  enraged.

“[ ** _Et cadere!!!_**](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FYou%2520coward.&t=MmEyM2E3NDE4OWEyOWM1OTJiZjNhNTNjMjBmY2RmOGRmMzI5NWM5ZCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)” Another strike to the floating ribs. Michael seemed like he attempted to block, but the power of Quintus’ strike followed through and the archangel gasped, trying to push him away as the beating continued. “[ ** _Tuum est?! Totum hoc tempus, fuit illa tibi?!_**](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FShe%2520is%2520yours%253F%21%2520This%2520entire%2520time%252C%2520she%2520has%2520been%2520yours%253F%21&t=ZTc3YTJiNjdmOTE2YmI5YWM5NWQxZDc3MmE4NDllZWMxYjA4NWQxMCx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)”

“STOP THIS!” Hathų screamed from behind but Michael thrust his hand out, emploring her to stay back and Quintus railed on him again. He expected the strikes to the armour to be painful on his knuckles, but Michael’s armour was just an extension of himself and all damage was affecting him painfully.

It was in this instant, staring down into the  _his favorite eyes_  in the  _skull of one of his most hated beings_ , that Quintus deciphered the look upon the archangel’s face. It was a combination of  _guilt_  and  _relief_. In fact, Quintus had seen  _this_  look on the face of many men and it was in this pure and delicate moment that he saw Michael surrender entirely to the ensuing beating. In fact, he was  _welcoming_  it.

“Yes.” Quintus accepted it and followed suit, surrendered to his own rage. “If it is punishment you desire,  **_my lord _** …” His eyes grew even wider with crazed anger. “ ** _I will happily oblige you_**  … [ _ **Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo!**_](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCatullus_16&t=ODQ5ZjQzMjJhNmNjMWJmYzIyNDZlMzdmMDhiYWE5MWNjYzJhOTA1Nyx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)”

Everything else faded away and there was just the two of them and his unrelenting rage.

**_“[Es stercus!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”_ **

Insult after insult, curse after curse, strike after strike.

**_“[Bibe semen meum e baculo!!!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”_ **

He beat until the archangel could no longer stand and when the Governor collapsed to his knees, Quintus began to interchange his downward punches with kicks. To his stomach, to his head, to his arms. Quintus beat and  _beat_.

 ** _“Oh, are you unable to stand?!”_**  Quintus growled.  ** _“Let me help you …_** ” He said as he twitched involuntarily, picking the angel up with a handful of armour as he head butted him savagely and squarely in the nose. As Michael’s hands came up to his face, Quintus brought a knee mercilessly into his groin and the angel collapsed again with a grunt.

**_“Coward … Liar.”_ **

“I never lied–” Michael tried and Quintus landed a punch directly into his throat, halting the sentence as the angel doubled over from the blow.

Somewhere in the midst of his clouded anger, he could hear Hathų crying, but, thankfully, she wasn’t trying to intervene.

“Were we just toys to you?! Chess pieces for you to move about with  **you and your petty fucking brothers?!** ”

Reaching down, he grabbed Michael with both hands and flung him as hard as he could and the force of the movement created a loud rumble of thunder. The tiny house shook as the Governor hit the wall not far from the restrained Djinn. Abyad attempted to scramble away, but his face was full of shock as Quintus approached and continued his vicious assault on the hayyoth.

At some point, the dhampir’s wild emotional state had numbed him to the fact that his skin had started to crawl with silver divinity and he felt Ozryel’s power coursing through him. She was perceiving this, possibly even witnessing it and he could feel her attempting to nudge calmness  _into_  him. His anger faltered for a moment. Her voice rumbled within his mind. 

> “Quintus.” No cute nickname this time. “Stop this.” Her voice was pure seriousness. “This does no good right now. You’re angry. And while it’s quite justifiable, it’s not immediately helpfu–”

“YOU KNEW!” He screamed it out loud, even though it was targeted directly to her. “All of this …  _this entire time … you knew!!!_ ” 

> “The Master always  _knew_. Why do you think  _any_  of this happened?” She did not deny a thing and he could appreciate that. “Why do you think Heaven couldn’t help you?”

“Cowards! You fucking cowards!” His heart raced savagely. Perhaps lying to him would have been better, because as  _this_  revelation snapped into his mind, his rage increased. Everything that had occurred made bitter sense.  _Everything_. It was always her.  ** _“[Futue te ipsi, moecha putida!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”_**

“He beat her …” Quintus sneered, his mouth drooling with saliva as his temper flared further. “He  ** _whipped_**  her …  _to get to you! And you just_   ** _let_**  it happen! YOU FUCKING COWARD!!!” Another boot into Michael’s stomach and the following one to his face. The angel’s body convulsed back and his skull slammed against the wall as the house rattled again.

“You don’t understand …” Michael coughed, coming up to his knees as he looked into Quintus’ face and the dhampir could see the tears smeared across his spotted cheeks.

His …  _spotted cheeks_. Quintus screamed as he stared at the face and he hesitated on striking it again, as for a moment all he could see was  _her_.

 _Damnation_.

“I do  _not_  understand?!” He coughed the question with sarcasm. Calm your fire, Quintus. Calm your – then he remembered her scars. Remembered the way she cringed when he ran his fingers over them and rage beat his calmness down again as he struck that  _spotted face_  and Michael crumpled to the ground.

“I do not understand?! YOU STAYED HERE! BEHIND YOUR GLORIOUS WALL AND YOUR SHINING CITADEL WHILE …” Another strike, another kick.

“WHILE SHE WAS SUFFERING FOR YOUR SINS … TO KEEP  ** _YOUR_**  SECRET!” Quintus helped him back to his feet before pushing Michael’s back against the wall so that he could stare into his eyes, forgetting that he would see  _her_  in them again. As soon as Michael looked away from him in shame, Quintus floored him again.

“FUCKING COWARD! She suffered  _and_   ** _I died_**  so you could protect yourself?! To protect your  _title?!_  To protect  _your power?!_ ” His words cut deep and Quintus bent to continue the beating, but a small voice from behind him caused him pause.

 **[It’s Alright - Fractures](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6yGbXzjKMIulJgmZvcuV3t&t=MDY4ODdiNjI4MzU2OTRiYzYwNDhmY2RmODJhZDRjNjkxMzU5NDQ3MSx2VU9ySUx5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165707397668%2Fchapter-86-revelations&m=1)**  

> _You get out of the tight ropes,_
> 
> _Keep your eyes closed_
> 
> _Let them know you’re falling_
> 
> _Follow in your shadow_
> 
> _Lost count of the dice rolls,_
> 
> _And the man hoes fighting in the morning_
> 
> _Acting like you don’t know_

“ ** _It was for me._** ” Her voice quaked with guilt and he could  _hear_  the tears behind her tone.

“Hathų …” Michael shook his head, begging for her not to continue. “Don’t …”

“It has always for me …” Her voice cracked. “If  _this_  is anyone’s fault … it is  _mine_  and  _mine_  alone.”

“No.” Michael whispered, rolling up to his knees as he stared at her. “No, it’s never been your fault.”

For the first time since it began, Quintus turned from his victim and finally looked at the  _Princess Prophet_. He hadn’t had much time to consider things before and he looked upon her face with clarity. Turning back to look into Michael’s eyes, he could  _see_  it now. The eyes were the same, yes, but not the shape.

As he turned back to her, he considered  _the shape_  and … the  _eyelashes_. They were thick and  _double layered_. He knew this very rare mutation because his  _poet_  had explained it to him on their last day together.  _Distichiasis_. One that he knew … was  _genetic_.

“ _You …_ ” The realization set in and Quintus’ heart broke in half, sadness engulfing his raging anger as he took a step back, his head swimming with the revelation. Nausea overcame him as he brought his hand to his forehead. How had he missed this? “*She’s … *”

As he relinquished his assault, Hathų dove for Michael, wrapping her small arms around his much larger torso and helped him to his feet while Quintus struggled with it all. Memories swamped him at once. He remembered staring at Dawn, while they were in that cabin together and being intrigued by her strange features and she had explained it away as being “part Cherokee”. But he could see now that it was not Hathų’s features that dominated his  _poet_ , but Michael’s. His strange and unique characteristics had dominated Dawn in nearly every way, except the beautiful shape of her eyes. “So … she is not  _Cherokee_  at all then.” He stated as he found himself sinking back into his chair. “She is descended from the  _Iroquois_.  ** _She is … yours_**.”

“We are  _Deer Clan_  … specifically.” Hathų explained and Quintus laughed an unbelievable scoff at the revelation.  _Deer Clan. The stag. Of course she is of the Deer Clan. Of course._  “When my people were scattered.” She explained further, never moving her attention from Michael as she surveyed the damage to his face and body. “I found a home with the Cherokee Nation. They took me …  _and my child_  … in.”

“The …” Quintus took a deep breath and rolled his head. “The  _mad boy in the meadow_ … He is  _yours_?” This was directed at Michael, but the angel gave no sign of affirmation.

“ _He is_   ** _ours_**.” Hathų corrected, helping Michael into his own chair at the table. “ ** _Our son_**.”

“He does not look like …” Quintus rolled over the memory of the  _mad_  boy playing with the  _dragonflies_  dancing in the  _wind_  in the meadow and his skin crawled with bumps. But the boy was not  _spotted_  and his eyes were  _not_  a rich green, but a dull gray. He had  _ashen_  hair, far more ashen than Dawn’s was before Quintus had reversed her diminishment. But he carefully considered the shape of the eyes and the shape of the face.  _Damnation_. “ ** _You diminished him_**.”

“I had no choice.” Michael admitted, unwilling to look into Quintus’ face. He tapped his hand on the table with nervousness. “There has  _never_  been a choice … you don’t understand …”

“Then, my dear Governor.” Quintus leaned forward, cocking his head to the right. “By all means … Explain it to me then …  _like I’m five_.”

“You exist, Quintus.” Hathų stated plainly. There was an eerie calmness in her voice as she spoke, turning and resuming her previous task of making the tea she had planned earlier. “Is some kind of existence not better than none?”

“You …” So many thoughts bombarded his dhampir mind. Dawn had said her father was  ** _mad_** , and his father before him and his father before  _him_. She was so afraid of becoming  ** _mad_**  like them. “ ** _You diminished … them all?_**  Your own children … you made them all mad?”

“They would have destroyed him.” Hathų’s own guilt was overflowing. “They would have destroyed them all.  _Including her_.”

“And you think I would find this is a valid excuse for  _her pain_? For  _my manipulation_?” Quintus eased himself into the chair across from Michael as the angel gingerly touched his face. “I care not for the sake of your son.” He admitted.

“It has  _never_  been  _just about_   ** _her_** , or  _my son_.” Michael shook his head. “It’s about both of them but also  _all_  of those in between.”

“But, she is  _not_  mad.” Quintus countered. “She is not–”

“No. She was never  _diminished fully_.” Hathų said, having finished her task, taking both mugs in her hands and walking over to Quintus to deposit one in front of him and his annoyance was clear.

“ ** _I care not for this liqui–_** ” The smell wafted up from the mug cut his words in half. His eyes closed tightly as he realized what it was that she had made for  _them_  …  ** _for him_**. Taking a deep breath of the steam, his eyes reopened when he felt her now-free hand touch his cheek, gently turning his head as she placed a simple kiss upon his dhampir forehead. For the first time since he met her, he now saw someone far more wise than spoiled and he regretted his animosity towards her. “Calm your fire,  _great warrior_. There is no need for it here … not now.”

_The tea was angelica._

As she took the seat at the end of the table between them, his hands found their way around the mug and he brought it up to his nose, taking in the precious scent. He didn’t need to drink it, but it was calming every part of him.

“I couldn’t …” Michael stuttered and Hathų reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. “She was different. She was …” His words trailed off painfully.

“She was sick.” The dhampir connected the dots before Michael needed to. “It was her sickness.”

“I left her with  _just_  enough to make her normal. She was the  _last_. The line would have ended with her.” Michael sighed. “She was so tiny. So …  _harmless_. I didn’t think–”

“I find your excuse wanting,  ** _my lord_**.” Quintus scoffed. “I doubt very much she has ever been  _either_  of those things, even when  _just_  a child.” He had to bite back the sneer that nearly escaped with the words and he held the cup close to his nose to relax him even further.

“I wanted her to live a normal life  _before_  …”

As Quintus’ mind began to finally clear, his mind lingered on that final word.  _Before? Before what exactly?_  And something particularly sickening crossed his mind, weakening the fragile state of his thoughts. “What was your plan for her?” Setting the mug down, he pushed it away from him and Hathų watched the movement with concern. His face contorted with further emotion as Michael didn’t immediately speak again. “Tell me,  ** _my lord_**  … Back on Earth, before I gave her  _the white_ , when you begged me to let her die …”

“Quintus, I do not think this is a produ–” Hathų attempted to  _deflect_  his question.

“ _What was your plan for her?_ ” He repeated, cutting her off and Michael looked up, finally locking his guilt-ridden eyes with the dhampir. This  _look_  sent bumps across his body and Quintus looked away, his heart beginning to race again. “And when I first arrived …” Now he was addressing  _her_. “You guilted me into compliance … in  _silence_. You told me …” He took a deep breath. “That if I had  _let her die_ , she would have been here … with me.”

“She would have.” Hathų’s eyes welled up again and he saw that deep guilt clearly again. “I did not lie.”

“And you told me it was  _my fault_  that she could  _never_  come to Heaven …”

“She could not have come through the gate intact. She could  _never_  have gone through  _intact_.” Michael spoke up. “Raphael would have felt her cross the threshold if she was inta–”

“You …” Quintus had to look away again as his hands began to shake. “Your plan, for her, was always madness? Just as  _her father_  and  _your son_  and all of those in between?”

“Quintus.” Hathų tried, but his eyes were already growing wider.

“And if I had disclosed information for you to find her?” He pushed harder. “What that your plan if you found her?”

“You don’t underst–”

“ _Your plan … _“ His trembling hand came up to his forehead. “_ Was always to make her_ ** _mad_**?” Michael’s eyes alone gave him his answer and his next movement was beautifully fluid. The angel’s weak condition didn’t allow him to react as the dhampir reached across the table, taking a full fist of the golden hair as he slammed Michael’s head down into the table, breaking the wooden furniture in half with the face of the angel.

Quintus stood, flinging the table up and flipping it out of his way as Michael stumbled back, attempting to gain his footing.

**_“[Bovis stercus](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)!!!”_ **

“Existence!” Hathų distracted him as he started to strike the Governor again. “Quintus! She would have  _existed_! She would have–”

“And you? You would have also existed, yes?” He chastised her, letting the angel slump down to the ground. “Here, with  _him_? Enjoying your beautiful life together?! How quaint … how perfect … how …  ** _happy_**.”

“All of  _my children_.” Michael coughed. “The cost would have been too high.”

“ _She_   ** _is_**   _your child!_  DO YOU THINK I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN? ABOUT  ** _HER FATHER!_**?"” The revelation hit Quintus harder than he realized as the disclosure Michael had made to him about Angel genetics sunk in.  _Michael_  was her  _father_. He was beating  _her father_. Quintus pulled himself back from the assault suddenly, spying something precious on the ground, not far from the door. The Governor had been holding it before the first strike and Quintus’ eyes grew wide with  ** _hope_**.

_It was the Staff._


	64. Interlude 8 - Falls the Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

**[Need You Now - Hot Chip](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5MRYyecW552BEq2nRBfIQX&t=ZGYyYWM1ODAwMTc5M2RjY2MwNjY5YmU5MzdmYzQyZGY4NWRlYmU0NSxxMGNPeEV0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165911612268%2Finterlude-8-falls-the-shadow&m=1)**  

> _Need you now_
> 
> _Say it loud_
> 
> _I need you now_
> 
> _Tired of being myself_
> 
> _Caught up in this world_
> 
> _I never dreamed I could belong_
> 
> _To a state that don’t see right from wrong_
> 
> _I never dreamed I would belong_
> 
> _To your place_

“But the blanket comes away  ** _now_**.”

His directness caused her words to knot within her throat and she found herself physically unable to answer. When he approached her slowly, with unfaltering determination, it took every ounce of self control to stand her ground and  _not_  recoil into a ball of crippling doubt. Her heart pounded and she  _knew_  he could hear it.

“Do I make you nervous?” Leaning down, he brushed his scarred cheek delicately across the side of her temple, purring the question directly into her ear.

“You know you do.” She said, her words causing a half-smile to creep over his pleasantly thick lips.

“Why?” He posed and she could only answer him with silence; her eyes begging for desperate reprieve. “Hmmm?” He pushed and she could still only stare back at him. Their height difference had always been substantial, and even in all their hours of training, she had never felt as  _tiny_  compared to him as she did in this instant. His pale fingers pinched the edge of the blanket and he began to tug on it ever so gently, seeming to ask for permission to remove it.

She  _wrongly_  assumed this was a game of domination and she normally would have fought tooth and nail against submission but had he not just surrendered to her first? And some part of herself knew deep down, that if she refused this, he  _would_  relent, as he often did with her. He would give into her wishes and drop it, but she also knew that it would be selfish and it would be very telling of her underlying character. She had agreed to this and it was a test of trust Swallowing hard, she gave in to his gentle tugs as she released her grip on the blanket finally and it fell away.

In a fluid movement, he accepted the fabric and pulled it around his waist quickly, tucking it in as one might a towel. He shielded his own nudity from her as she had done to him and she took a deep and shaky breath.  _Ah crap._  He has seen her body before, yes, but that was in the throws of passion when they were both equally distracted by pleasure. Those overwhelming sensations were now missing and she was exposed to him on a level that made her worry.

Doubt rushed over her as she stood before him. Her arms nervously trying to shield her bare skin from his inquisitive eyes as her face grew solemn. “ ** _You wanna break me?_** ” She was on the verge of tears as he perused her carefully.

“Very much the contrary. You are  _already_  broken. I wish to  _fix_  you.” He purred as he brought a lock of her hair up to breathe in its scent. The tips of his fingers touched the sides of her wrists, tenderly pushing them down to rest at her sides and exposing her to him as he began to walk around her.

He said nothing on the first pass. And still nothing on the second. Even on the third, he remained silent as he looked over every inch carefully.  _Fuck._  Did he not realize how much this was making her–

“Though you  _could_  be sold for domestic chores, you would have most likely been purchased  _for pleasure_.”

“Pleasure?” She snorted, disbelief ripe in her voice and her brows high with suspicion. “I really doubt anyone would have bought me for that. People have to want to  _fuck_  you for–”

“Oh yes.” He interrupted her. “You would have been seen as  _exotic_  in our eyes.”

“Exotic?” She chuckled at his statement. “I’m not really the  _definition_  of exotic–”

Cutting her off again, he placed his index finger across her lips, expressing his desire for her silence and she pursed her lips together with a half-grin. “After Gaul slaves were brought to Rome, blonde hair became quite an obsession. At first it  _was_  a trademark of prostitutes until  _even_  noble women desired to possess it.”

“Prostitution again?” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s with you and pro–”

Interrupting, he continued. “Your pale skin would have been highly desirable, but  _not_ your spots. Unfortunately, you would have been forced to cover them.”

“Not surprising.” She furrowed her nose. “I guess some things never change. No one likes freck–”

“Shhh. Enough.” Quintus tilted his head to the right as he ran the tip of his index finger from the bridge of her nose, down across her cheek, touching the multitude of freckles across it. “ _Your spots are lovely_.”

“They make me look dirty.” She countered. She had lived with this  _defect_  her entire life and her experience told her it was very much the opposite of alluring. “Flawless skin is desirable.”

“They make you unique.” He responded, touching the spots on her shoulder as he stared at the sea of them spread across her arm. “And beauty is  _not_  the absence of uniqueness, but rather the  _abundance_  of it.” Taking her idle hand in his, he placed her fingers on the skin at the corner of his right eye and ran her tips down across his cheek, following the path of his stripes. “Is it not?”

 _Damn this man_. Dropping her hand, he continued his assessment. “You are not overly thin and your hips are pleasantly thick, however your breasts would have been seen as far  _too large_.”

Another snort escaped her mouth. “Yeah, I’ve heard  _that_  one before. How big  _should_ they be then?”

“The size of an apple was ideal.” His head cocked to the left as he reached out and grabbed one in his hand as she jumped slightly at the action. “Anyone that was  _this_ large would have been rare …”

“Like  _your_  problem?” She asked as her eyes looked down at his crotch, flicking her chin towards his own  _sizable_  problem.

“Indeed.” Smiling, he agreed.

“So …” She swallowed slowly, hesitating to ask as she knew he would be brutally honest. “You find them distasteful?”

“Oh no. No.” He said firmly. “Very much the contrary. I find them pleasing.” He reached out and grabbed the other one with his other hand, exploring them both as he lifted them slightly. “I actually quite appreciate the weight of them.” He stared down, palpating them in an almost uncomfortable way, as if he was assessing the value of a piece of fruit. “And they are even more exquisite than I had  _imagined_.”

“Exquisite?” She wanted qualification on that. “How so? Aren’t they just your standard  _breasts_?”

He looked at them carefully. “Body parts vary widely from person to person. But the shape. How yours hang with the gravity. The placement, size, and color of the nipple and its surrounding areola. Pink, delicate, and … very  _pleasing_.”

“Ok.” She had  _wanted_  clarification, but this was getting embarrassing to her. Silence befell the situation as he seemed transfixed on them, still squeezing and exploring as a tiny grin graced the side of his lips. Now he was playing with the nipples to harden them.  _Ok. Enough right?!?_  She had to encourage herself  _not_  to laugh as he seemed mesmerized. “Wait … more  _than you had_   ** _imagined?_** ”

“Mmm hmm. Often.” He finally turned his attention back to her face, nodding only once as he dropped his toys. He ran his finger across her not-perfectly flat stomach as he walked around behind her, changing the subject swiftly as he gripped the thick flesh right between her cheeks and her thigh. “You have  _never_  birthed a child?”

There was a curiousness in his question. “No.” She confirmed. “Don’t you think I would have mentioned something like that?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Like …  _yo I gotta get back to my family or something?_ ”

“I try not to make assumptions. Death is inevitable and such memories can be painful to relive.” Fair enough. “Besides, given your age, is it not more common to have had children?” Painfully true.  _Yes_. “Given that girls are reaching maturity much sooner now, you  _are_  actually old enough to have  _adult_  children, are you not?”

 _Damnit_. Did he just tell her she was old enough to be  _a grandmother?_  Fuck my life. Her face flushed with blood as embarrassment ran over her. He was  _way_  too blunt sometimes and she found herself unable to even respond.

“This subject makes you uncomfortable?” He questioned further. “Are you  _barren_?”

“No.” She stuttered in defense. “I mean … I don’t  _think_  so. I’ve just never …” He was very right. This subject, in particular, was  _very_  touchy for her. “I’ve never wanted any.”

“Hmmm.” He was accepting, joining her in her confession. “ _Neither have I_.” He walked around her again, reaching out to touch each mole he could see as he spoke. “Was  _your husband_  in agreement with that?”

“He …” Her voice cracked slightly. “My  _ex-husband_  …  _She_  gave him a child.”

“Hmm. Was this the reason for the dissolution of the …  ** _union_**?” The last word escaped his lips with annoyance and then she realized he had gotten distracted from  _her scrutiny_  entirely. His  _jealous ass_  was  _prying_  again. He had tried to question her love life before and the jealousy was obvious in his wide eyes.

“Did it bother  _your wife_?” She pressed, understanding that if it came back around to  _him_  having to speak about  _his own marriage_ , he would undoubtedly change the subject. But for the first time ever, he actually didn’t.

 **[Broken Things - Clairity](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6e2xm1G0tlzEBgvOFhNHdX&t=YjI5YTRlY2JhZjg2MWRkZmRhMmNiNGQyYTc1YTMwNDgzYjgzMjVjYyxxMGNPeEV0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165911612268%2Finterlude-8-falls-the-shadow&m=1)**  

> _Light bulbs in your head, they might be burnt out_
> 
> _Maybe rough around the edges, you barely function_
> 
> _You’re too tired, you can’t carry all this hurt now_
> 
> _You’re more to me than all these broken things_
> 
> _These broken things_

“No. It did not. She already had a child.” The confession was monotone, but his eyes diverted from her gaze just a fraction of an inch and she could see he was fighting to express no emotion. “A daughter.  _Sura_.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.  _Very much._ ” His face remained stoic, but his inability to look her in the eyes was telling. Reaching out for his hand, he allowed her to grip it and he finally looked back to her.

“You raised her?”

“For a time.” He nodded. “But as always, the  _Master_  took them both from me when she was still just a child. She did not live to adulthood.”

“Took them?” She asked. “He killed them?”

“He  _turned_  them … to taunt me.” He sighed. “In the end, it was I that  ** _killed_**  them.”

“No.” She shook her head. “From what I’ve seen, they were already dead then. You just killed  _his puppets_.”

“That is what I tell myself.” He admitted sadly, accepting her sentence and there was a painful period of silence that followed.

“Personally, I don’t like children.” The statement was rushed as she found the silence of the situation almost unbearable. “But they’ve  _always_  liked me … ”

“Oh?” He seemed surprised. “They’ve  _rarely_  liked me.” He chuckled. “Obviously.”

“Animals too.” She shrugged. “They look at me like …  _I don’t know_  … Like I’m different. But people, in general, don’t like me at all. I’ve always made people around me uneasy.”

“It is easier for simple creatures to see beyond their own learned biases. They see you as you are because you are  _special_.” He grinned madly at his words. “ _You are an_ ** _angel_**.”

“Uh huh. I’m definitely more of a  _devil_.” She made two horns from her index fingers and put them up to her temple with a giggle.

“ _You are …_ ” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “ _Heavenly_. But …” Something made him uncomfortable and seriousness returned to his demeanour. “We have gone off topic. I am not yet done with my assessment.”

“Fine. Ok. What next? I’m too short?”

“Your stature?” He asked. “Actually, people were  _much_  shorter in Rome. You would have been considered ideal height for a woman. Perfectly  _average_ , in fact.”

“Average?” She liked the sound of that. “Serious? Doesn’t that means  _you_  were a goddamn giant then?”

He ignored her commentary. “However … your  _less-than-desirable_  personality traits would negatively affect your price.” He stated plainly.

“My … “ What the fuck did he just say? “Excuse me?” He knew that statement would furrow her brows deeply and he watched with a serious face as her nose scrunched with growing displeasure. “ _Less-than-desirable personality traits?_ ” He held his grin at bay as she mulled over his words carefully, trying to internalize them before she spoke again. “And what would  _those_  be exactly?”

“Your scars may be an obvious sign of your unrelenting  _defiance_.” He explained. “And your  _intelligence_  would  ** _not_**  have been seen as an asset. Neither for a slave  _nor_  a woman. It would have been considered as a defect.”

“Ok …” She shrugged innocently. “Doesn’t seem like those are actually defects, but … ok.”

“You are also highly emotional.” He continued and she pouted at this one significantly.

“I am not  ** _highly emotional_**  …” Her tone was thick with  _emotion_  and the sentence trailed off as he raised his brow, signalling that she was being so  _even_  now. “Hmmm. Oh. Ok. Fair enough.”

“And for one who is educated in logical thinking, you often let your emotions rule your words and actions.”

“Well, I’m not a robot …  _like some people_.” She countered with a frown, whispering the last part under her breath with annoyance.

“Case in point.” He  _nearly_  chuckled, but his face remained stoic and she fought the urge to cross her arms in defiance.

“So what?” She countered as she took his statement towards her as purely negative, when it was meant as very much the opposite. “You want me to act more like you?”

“No. Absolutely not. These words are not meant to berate you.” He touched her bare shoulder, running his index finger gently across it and over her clavicle while he spoke. “Quite the opposite in fact. I find the conflict in your nature refreshing.  _Chaotically beautiful_.”

“Chaos isn’t normally refreshing.” She countered.

“Definitely not to most.” He purred. “But, I am not most and you have no idea how much I enjoy a challenge.”

“A challenge?” She coughed. “You think of me as a  _challenge_? Like breaking a  _horse_ or something?”

“Do not misinterpret my words.” He said firmly. “What I am saying is, that if I were to  _purchase you_ , I would not be deterred by these things.”

“Oh.” She was almost afraid to ask. “What else then?”

“Overall, you would fetch a very high price.” He nodded. “Not nearly as high as mine, for being such an oddity, but impressive nonetheless. However, due to your pleasing nature and exotic traits, you’d likely be encouraged to breed.”

“Even given my …  _defects_?” She prodded.

“In spite of them … yes.”

“So you would you have purchased me then?” She asked. “Or I guess you were a slave … You couldn’t have. But you were also a General though.”

“As [libertus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSlavery_in_ancient_Rome&t=MWUwODNmYTQ1M2Q5YWU1NWEzNjA2ZjM4ODAzM2I5YmZiNTA4ZWY3MCxxMGNPeEV0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165911612268%2Finterlude-8-falls-the-shadow&m=1), a freed person, I could own slaves  _and_  I did. Many, in fact.”

“Wait. You did? Even after  _you were one_?” The thought of that was confusing to her. “You owned people even after you yourself–”

“Judge me if you must, but it was the society in which I lived. But my history made me a  _kind master_. There was no punishment or violence allowed in my house.” He said plainly and with pure honesty. “But you, however, would have been far too expensive to purchase for  _domestic chores_  alone and as I had no use of slaves for pleasure … ”

“Ouch.” She coughed a bitter laugh. “So you wouldn’t have bought me at all then? I guess that’s not shocking, you didn’t like me when we first met anyways.”

This statement seemed to confuse him as he cocked his head to the side, pouting slightly with his thick lips. “That is  _incredibly_  wrong.”

 **[Flight - Son Lux](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3FoLo5SgsAuzV3C1BQPR3o&t=MWRhYzkzODFlNWM0NWJkZTVmYzBkZDY2ZGNhOTAwZTI3OTU4NmExZCxxMGNPeEV0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165911612268%2Finterlude-8-falls-the-shadow&m=1)**  

> _Oh, what a noise we’ll make_
> 
> _Drowning out our mistakes, we can’t erase_
> 
> _This is the chance we take_

_We shout until our bones break, we can’t replace_

“But … you  _attacked_  me.”

“And then I  _saved_  you. Which was  _quite_  uncharacteristic of me.”

“And then  _you_  pushed  _me_  away.” Her defiance flared.

“Unfortunately.”

“More than once.”

“Yes.”

“You were pretty mean about it too.”

“I am often  _mean_  … about most things. But … I push  _everyone_  away. It is easier that way. As I have already confessed … you were  _terrifying_  me.”

“Easier? Easier to  _not_  feel? I would imagine that makes a long life  _harder_  …”

“Your lifetime  _would_  have been a torturously short moment for me. It would have been a tiny  _blink_  in my continued existence and then … you would have just been  _gone_  … as everyone else. I would have been left with only a memory that would serve as a simple reminder of  _why_  I am not like everyone else.”

“What happened?” She asked. “What changed your mind?”

“I thought I had  _lost_  you.”

“But … you just said you were expecting me to die–”

“Miss Velders showed me  _that chart_.” He stated plainly, closing his eyes tightly as something knotted in his chest but she wasn’t following entirely.

“Chart?” She asked. “What chart?”

“On the screen. When …  _when_  …” He stuttered. Did Quintus  _ever_  stutter? “After  _he_ took you …”

“Quintus … What  _chart_?”

“When you are around  _him_  … something occurrs. The interference we were tracking that night … at the factory. It was not him, it was  ** _you_**.” Something seemed to click in her mind. Dutch had mentioned the interference signal but …  _what the fuck did that even mean?_  Her? How was that possible? “When he had you, the line on the screen dropped off. Like … a  _cliff_  and in that moment … I was certain you were gone. That he had taken you from me.”

Understanding immediately what he was talking about, she remembered that moment when  _the Shiny Man_  had put her into that  _fucking box_  and everything went  _dark_. She had never felt so alone, not even able to reach the  _Dark Voice_  that turned out to be Hathų. What did it mean? Why would  _she_  have that effect on the  _Master_? She might have pressed, but his eyes opened again.

“I thought I had  _lost_  you. I have felt loss before, but  _that_  … ” He was unable to voice himself and this was incredibly unusual for Quintus. “I have  _never_  felt what I had felt in  _that_  instant … You cannot understand what it felt like. I regretted so much … ”

She knew exactly what he was trying to describe. When she woke up in that bed after she watched the soldiers riddle his body with bullets in the Army base, she felt  _that_. When she brought  _all_  the soldier to their knees with her  _scream_. “What am I?”

He wasn’t expecting the question, but he understood its origin. “Something quite similar to  _me_.”

“What does that even mean? Similar to  _you_?”

“You are something unique.”

“That’s not an answ–” He interrupted with his lips. She might have pressed for answer further, but he was so very good at distracting her. His warm hands swept down over the skin of her arms, finding their way around her side and down to her cheeks, gripping the thick flesh directly under them as he hoisted her up into the air and she heard the blanket that had been tucked around his waist hit the floor below. She wrapped her legs around him in return.

Lost in the motion of his tongue as it penetrated her mouth, she forgot about the question and she felt them moving across the room swiftly and her back connected with a the cold surface of the cabin wall as he grunted hungrily. Apparently the  _scrutinization_  was over?

He pushed her hard up against the surface and she winced at his strength, but his words purred out of his mouth with anticipation as he moved his body against hers. “Mmmm,  _this_  is how I wanted to take you.”

His lips pushed against her but she spoke anyways. “Take me? What do you mean?” She had a speculation, but she  _needed_  to hear him say it.

“[Non ludere muta](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FI%2520do%2520not%2520play%2520dumb&t=N2I2N2FmZTVmNWQ0YWNiMzE0Y2FlZWRmMDdmOTY5YTI0MGYwNzIxOSxxMGNPeEV0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F165911612268%2Finterlude-8-falls-the-shadow&m=1) …” Whenever Latin rolled off his tongue, she felt herself flush with warmth.  _Holy shit_. The way his vibrating strigoi tone made it sound sent incredible shivers down her spine. This was a new phrase and she  _loved_  how it flowed. She was expecting him to define it next, but he was clearly distracted with something else on his mind. “In the tunnels  _that day_  when you first kissed me, you were lucky Mr. Fet returned when he did … ”

“Lucky?” She asked for clarification. She remembered his rejection that day and the excuse he had given her. “Because you would have  _eaten_  me?”

His hands still gripped the thickness of her thighs as he held her above the ground, perfectly at his level and he pushed his readiness against her, positioning his body to take her again. She found herself grabbing fistfuls of the muscles on his back in preparation for it as their hearts pounded in their chests, beating in thunderous harmony. “Because I would have  _fucked you hard_  against that wall …”

He was rarely so vulgar with his words and there was something animalistic laced deep in his confession as the sentence ended with a low growl.

“I thought you said  _that_  was the  _other_  kind of  _hunger_?” Her whispered question had just barely escaped her mouth when his left hand up trailed the skin of her neck, interlacing his warm fingers into the hair above it.

“I hunger for  _you_  …” Breathing her in, he closed his eyes as he spoke. “In  _every way_ possible.” Taking a handful of her mane, just as he had done in the tunnels that day, his grip was tight yet gentle. She let out the smallest of gasps as he pulled it back at a forty-five degree angle, forcing her to expose the opposite side of her neck to him, the same side that would forever bear the scar he left on her.  _His scar. His mark. His._  It was now fully healed and what was left would be there  _forever_. He kissed it again, both  _apologizing_  and  _relishing_  in his ownership.

“ _Show me._ ” She said, uncertainty thick in her words.

“Show you?” He pulled back from his kiss, releasing the hair and locking inquisitive eyes on her. “Show you what?”

“What you wanted to do …”

“You wish me to …” She could see the hesitation on his face. “ _Fuck you_   ** _hard_**?”

“Show me what you want to do …” Was it too much to ask?

“I do not wish to hurt yo–” Her teeth halted his statement as she bit down into his thick lower lip causing him to growl at her attack. There was a brief pause as he stared at her and she could see the wheels of his mind spinning away, considering the situation. She actually expected him to refuse again but instead he drove into her fully with one savage deep thrust.


	65. 9.1 - Timing

She called Ferraro and instructed that another airport be used for take off. Thomas was compromised. She warned Antonio that they would likely go to him for information and he informed her he was  _already_  trained for such a scenario.  _Of course he was._ Quintus was prepared for everything it seemed, and she smiled with pride.

“They’ll be coming for answers.” She warned him.

“I’ve already departed the premises. I am on the way to one of the safe houses.” He assured her. “We have all been trained for such a … situation.”

“OK, but I don’t think it’ll matter.” She countered, knowing that Ferraro didn’t have the same  _protections_  as her. Michael would be able to find him regardless. “They’ll  _still_  find you.”

“If that is certain, then what would you prefer me to tell them when they do?”

“Whatever keeps them distracted.” She said. “And whatever keeps you alive.”

“Very good.” He was so damn calm. “Also, may I ask what they are after, signora?”

“They wanna stop me.” She admitted.

“Stop you from what?” He pried.

“From bringing Quintus home.”

There was a discernible pause before he spoke again, finally showing some emotion as she detected relief in his voice. “ ** _Very good._** ” He actually seemed very pleased with this. “But, may I ask … have you seen the news, signora?” His usually monotone voice now exposing concern.

“Not yet. Why?”

“Our own videos, of the lobby, show that man moving faster than even Mr. Sertorius is capable …” He stuttered.

She was fumbling with the phone in her trembling hands while she ran and she didn’t appreciate his meandering words. “Get to the point, please.”

“There are videos of that …  _man?_  Is he of relation to you?”

“Mmm hmmm.” They were quite similar and there was no need to deny it, but she urged him. “Get to the point, Ferraro.”

Another small pause. “After he left our building … there are other videos … He is shown …  _flying_?”

“Yep. He can do that. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One thing. The property you requested has been purchased.”

She grinned.  _Finally_  some good news. “Good. That it?”

“Yes, signora.  _Best of luck_.  ** _Happy Hunting._** ”

As she finally came to the secondary airfield, the plane was already waiting for her and she smirked, appreciating Antonio so much right now. Quintus had trained him well indeed.

When her back hit the cushion of the private jet’s seat, she was finally relieved. The steward brought her a drink and though she couldn’t be affected by the alcohol within it, she enjoyed the coldness in her mouth. Her entire body was burning up and her hands were still shaking from  _everything_  that occurred.  

> “Get some rest. I’m  _sure_  you’re exhausted.” EL finally speaking again. He had been entirely silent since telling her to move her ass and she could see that he was mulling over what he watched her do and she wasn’t sure how to explain it to him. “We’ll have a  _lot_  to talk about when you wake up.”

She almost laughed him. Her heart was beating so fast, there was no way she would be able to fall asleep … but as soon as that thought crossed her mind, her eyes closed and she was  _out_.

 

* * *

 

“By the time I returned, she had packed our bags, but she gave no indication of our destination before the gun fire started.” Thomas shrugged innocently as Gus threatened him with gun yet again.

“Puto, if don’t start talkin’–”

“I assure you … Mr. Ferraro would know better than I.” The Nazi said. “It is  _him_  that we should seek out.”

“We?” Dutch scoffed. “There is no  _we_ , you Nazi asshat. You aren’t part of our team.”

“Fraulein–” Thomas started.

“Actually.” She bit back at him. “It’s FRAU now.”

“Ah yes.” Thomas smiled devilishly, glancing down at her body and her face scrunched in discomfort as her arms folded across her chest and she realized he  _knew_. “ ** _Frau_**  … as much as it might discomfort you, we are  _all_  on the same team now.”

“We’ll see,  _waxy boy_. When this is over … I’m gonna cap your strix ass, once and for all.” Gus pushed the gun against Thomas’ temple again, attempting to threaten, but the strigoi only rolled his eyes in frustration.

They might have waited in the alley for the  _angel_  to return but when the sirens became more pronounced and they could hear officers searching on foot only a few streets away, Dutch looked back at her phone again, desperate for a plan to pop into her head.

“We can’t stay here.” She warned. “We need to get off the street. People saw us coming out of the building. God, I bloody hope we aren’t in those videos of him … ” She made a motion of someone soaring in the air with her hand. “Swooooshing …”

Gus agreed, pushing the gun into Thomas’ back with gusto. “Yeah, but where?”

“We should stay here, no?  ** _He_**  might not be able to find us–” Fet tried to counter.

“The Governor will be able to find you no matter where you are.” Thomas interjected quickly. “We must get off the street.”

“Ok then …” They hadn’t really made plans beyond booking the flight and she stared down at her phone, considering where they might go next. She had never been to Rome before. “Fuck.”

“May I?” Thomas pointed to a locked side door in the alley.

“May you what,  _puto_?” Gus’ brow furrowed as he jabbed the gun into the Nazi’s back again and Thomas’ patience melted away entirely. They had seen him move fast before, but it was still a shock when he spun around to face the angry Boxer. As the Nazi knocked Gus back against the brick wall of the building, the gun was already in his hands. Gripping the man’s neck tightly, Thomas began to squeeze gently.

Fet was already trying to fish out the gun hidden in his belt, but Thomas was already aimed directly at the Ukrainian’s head with the newly acquired pistol yet he never moved his glare from the Boxer’s now bulging eyes.

“ _Oh Fuck_  …” Dutch considered going for her own gun, but she was paralyzed as she stared at the barrell pointed directly at her husband’s face.

“Now …” Thomas said calmly, directly to Gus. “As I have said repeatedly, I am  _not_  your enemy any longer.” Releasing the hold slowly, he backed away from the gasping man. “Because, if I was …  _all of you would_   ** _already_**   _be dead._ ” Lowering the weapon from Fet, Thomas uncocked the pistol and offered it back to the angry Boxer, handle first.

Gus snatched the weapon back immediately as he considered snapping another insult at him, but as the thought grazed his mind, flashing lights down a side street captured his full attention and he shoved the gun back into his pants. “This don’t mean we’re cool.” 

“I would expect NOT,  _Mr. Elizalde_. But for now … “ Thomas pointed at the door he had indicated earlier and asked again. “May I?”

“May you what?!” Gus asked, but Thomas stepped forward, gripping the padlock on it and ripping it off with ease before gripping the handle and turning it until it snapped from his strength. As he swung the door in, the flashing lights grew closer and he waved them in. “Move your asses, please.”

All four fugitives piled into the unknown building, pulling the door shut behind them.

 

* * *

 

She knew she would wake up here. She walked through the meadow, running her hands over the top of the high blades of grass as she approached the campfire burning brightly in the distance. A smile was spread wide across her spotted face as she was almost giddy to tell them she had done it. She had finally done it!

 _She had altered time_.

As she advanced, she heard them arguing …  _again_.  _Always_. Ellie …  _Sandalphon_  was usually so easy to get along with, but there was something annoyingly condescending about how Lilith spoke to her that pushed that ever elusive button to really tip her friend over the edge. Dawn had been known to push that button once  _or_  twice before.

“Ah. You are back. Good.” Lilith chirped. “How was it?”

“How was  _what_?” Dawn questioned as she sat back down at her side of the fire.

“Manipulating time.” Sandalphon qualified and Dawn furrowed her nose.

 _Dammit._  She wanted to tell them. They were such goddamn killjoys.

“You already knew?”

“Of course.” Lilith snorted with delight. “Why do you think we showed you?”

“Well … that’s just great. You could have told me.” Dawn said.

“If we told you that you would do it, then you wouldn’t have done it.” Sandalphon was laughing, shaking her head.

“Fine. Whatever.” Why was she even back here? What was the point now? “Why am I back here? What the  _fuck_ ’s next then? More training?”

“No. No more training. Now …” Lilith poked at the fire with her stick again as the smile faded from her face. “We meet for the last time and this Confluence will be complete.”

“And …” Sandalphon sighed heavily, turning as there was a rustling in the grass just behind Dawn; the sound of tiny and timid footsteps. As she spun to see what might be behind her, her best friend announced the new arrival. “We welcome our  _Fourth and final Sister_  … your grandmother.”

_Grandmother … ?_

Dawn stood, her mouth slightly agape as she faced the woman for the first time since she had sent her away. For the first time since Quintus’ last day on Earth.

“Hathų …”

 

* * *

 

It was the back of a cafe but everyone had evacuated, likely because of the gunfire  _and_  tornadoes. They piled into the rear stock room that also seemed to serve as a break room. The TV was still on and Dutch lunged at the remote, turning up the volume, which didn’t help at all, since they were rattling off news in Italian. She flicked the channels until the BBC provided clear English for them to ingest.  

> “Italian weather authorities are reporting that three F-4 class tornadoes temporarily touched down near the Celio district of Rome. While tornadoes do occur in and around Rome, it is unprecedented that three of  _such magnitude_  would form simultaneously. The destruction is currently being evaluated and emergency crews are on the scene.”

“Damn.” Dutch’s more irrational side was hoping they had  _imagined_  that.  

> “And what is being called  _a miracle_ , with the substantial destruction caused, there have been  _absolutely no casualties_  reported.”

“Wow. No casualties? Dat’s not even possible …” Fet’s sentence trailed off as everyone realized it  _was_  possible … wasn’t it?  

> “However, in other news …” The anchor said as several pictures of a frozen city were plastered across the screen. “The same cannot be said for the area surrounding Syracuse, New York in the United States.”

“Did she just say Syracuse?” Gus’ eyes grew wide.  

> “Located in the middle of the state, Syracuse is used to cold weather, but they are calling this the most extreme cold snap that the area has  _ever_  seen. Possibly that  _any_ area has ever seen. Initial reports are coming in that the area is currently at -40 degrees Celsius …”

“Did they just say -40? Holy fuck.” Dutch stared at the images showing standing people in the city frozen solid and she was reminded of the last time they were there.  

> The newscaster stopped, touching her ear for clarification as the number even shocked her. “For those viewers who are unaware, -40 degrees Celsius is equivalent to  _winter_  temperatures in some parts of  _Antarctica_. Unfortunately, as rescuers are just beginning to breach the frozen area, they have yet to find  ** _any_**  survivors.”

“Fuck the world. Not this again …  _Not this again …_  ” Dutch flicked the television to mute as she dramatically flung herself down on the dirty couch, grabbing her head with her hands.

Thomas looked at the faces of his new companions and he cocked his head ot the right. “What is it? You have seen this before?”

“Yeah. It’s Lake Onondaga …” Gus stared at the TV with disbelief. “It’s frozen …  _again_. I don’t get it though. What does it even mean?” 

“ _Ahhhhhhh_  … Then that is where it has been this whole time.” Thomas stared at the television, understanding at once what it was.

“Where  _what_  is?” Fet seemed almost afraid to ask. “What is it? Ya know why it keeps freezing, don’t ya?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Fet. That is how one temporarily seals a gate.”

“Seals a gate?” Dutch asked for clarity.

“Water has always been the conduit between the worlds.” Thomas explained, remembering the Master explaining it to him several times during the course of their search for it. The Master had been searching for the  _gate_  before Thomas was relieved of their  _bond_.

They knew it would have been around ground zero for Sadum and Amurah, but there are hundreds of small lakes in that area and having been fell and disconnected, all of the Ancients had been relieved of the knowledge of the gate’s exact location. It did not help matters when the Keepers of the Great Fire kept them at bay for months during the Fall.

“It is the only gate left in operation. It is where the souls pass through.”

“Souls?” Dutch coughed. “Conduit? Gate?” Dutch asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? Gate to  _where_?”

“ _The Gate to Heaven_ , my dear.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Broken Things - Clairity](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6e2xm1G0tlzEBgvOFhNHdX&t=NDc0OTE5ZTdhYWI3NjQzNjRlOTdiMTY2ZmU2MzAxMjA3ZTMxNGJkOSxTOEd0aktpeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166119558503%2Fchapter-91-timing&m=1)**   

> _Light bulbs in your head, they might be burnt out_
> 
> _Maybe rough around the edges, you barely function (function, function)_
> 
> _I’m tired, I can’t carry all this hurt now (hurt now)_
> 
> _You’re more to me than all these broken things (these broken things, these broken things)_

“Dawn?” Hathų’s voice quaked with trembling uncertainty as her hand touching the side of her face where blood trickled down to her jawline. Her expression was full of confusion as she looked around the fire. “Where … where am I? Where is this? How …”

Glancing back towards Lilith, Dawn expected the prophet to explain the situation to Hathų just as it had been explained to her, but Lilith only smiled in response, waving a hand towards them. “Go on. Explain it. Show me you’ve been paying attention.”

 _Shit. It was like a pop quiz. She_   ** _hated_**   _pop quizzes._

“This is the  _Confluence_.” Dawn said simply.

“What is …” Hathų brought her hand back from her head wound to survey the amount of blood present and then pressed it back against the deep gouge as she winced. “What is a …  _confluence_?”

“ _It is the place where prophets dream._ ” Sandalphon explained softly from her seat at the fire. She pointed an offering hand at the seat directly opposite of Dawn’s usual position. “Please, sit with us …  _She Who Hears._  There are important things to discuss.”

“Where  _prophets dream_? But … I cannot be here.” Hathų said carefully, sitting down and looking across the fire into Dawn’s eyes, she took her seat on the uncomfortable log. “I am  _dead_. I am no longer a prophet. I can no longer  _dream_.”

“Oh my dear …” Sandalphon chirped with condescending glee. “You are always a  _prophet_. A piece of your mind  _always_  exists in a state of  _dream_ , outside the flow of time. Your mind and  _everything_  that you are, will always be here, in this place.”

“But …” Hathų fought the words. “I have not dreamed of the  _future_  since I  _died_. How did I get here …” She reached up and touched her temple again, cringing as she did so. The wound was obviously sensitive to the touch.

“ _I called you all here._ ” Lilith stated. “This confluence is  _mine_.”

“Eleanor?” Hathų stared blankly at Lilith for a moment before turning to squint at Sandalphon now, her face full of growing confusion. “Then how are  _you_  here?  ** _You_**  are  _not_  a prophet.”

“Actually …” Dawn said, pulling her knees tightly to her chest as she spoke. “Her name is  ** _Sandalphon_**.”

“San …  _The … Angel Prophet? This whole time?_ ” Hathų whispered, hesitating for a moment . She took a deep breath in before turning to the dark-eyed woman to her right. “And you … I have seen your face before. You are  _Lilith_ , the First Prophet.”

“Yes.  _The Queen Prophet_ , herself.” Sandalphon snorted the title with a tone that implied it was intended as half insult and half compliment.

“It is good to know that I am still so …” Lilith accepted it with pride as she smiled. “…  _infamous_.”

Pulling her hand back from her wound again to look at the flow of blood, Hathų shook her head. “But, you are  _dead_.”

“Says another dead woman.” Lilith responded with a laugh. “We are all dead at some point, are we not?”

“Yes, I am  _dead_.” Hathų remained entirely calm and Dawn envied her ability to do so. When she first arrived here, she was a wreck of emotion, but Hathų,  _the Princess Prophet_ , was collected and accepting as she took everything in slowly. “But, you are  _second_  dead. You  _no longer exist_.”

_Lilith smiled._

“In  _your_  time, maybe not. But  _this place_  exists outside of time.” Dawn interjected and Hathų stared back at her descendant with wide eyes as she listened. “We are each here at different points in time.”

“Yes. Very good.” Lilith was pleased. “And our fourth and final sister comes to us from the farthest point in the future which  _this confluence_  will touch.”

“Wait … so you are in the past from me?” Hathų’s eyes grew wide as she stared back at Dawn. “Dawn, YOU MUST STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE–”

“ENOUGH!” The fire flared up with massive strength as Lilith’s voice boomed. “It is too late to stop anything now. That is why you are here and why you were  _not_  allowed to come until now.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. It’s already too late, I’m afraid …” Sandalphon said with careful and sad words. “Everything is already in unstoppable motion. The scales have already tipped too far to go back to how it was.”

“What? What does that even mean?” Hathų’s calmness began to wane as she realized there was a conspiracy in play. “What is …  _in motion?_  What have you all done? Where … “ Her eyes burned with desperation as she stared at Sandalphon. “Where is the Great Spirit?”

“We do what we have to do.” Lilith said firmly. “What  _must_  occur for everything to continue.”

“For everything to continue?” Hathų pressed. “What are you talking about?”

“The world  _must_  be allowed to evolve,  _She Who Hears_.” Sandalphon said. “As the Daughters of Time, we are the harbingers who must usher in that change, regardless of the cost to ourselves.”

“Daughters of Time? What …  _cost_?” Hathų swallowed deeply. “I do not understand. Why? Why me? Why Dawn?”

“Because,  ** _princess_** ,  _you_  have the next  _choice_  to make.” Lilith said, never tearing her eyes from the fire and the reflection of the flames danced across her dark irises. “And … it will prove to be the hardest of all of us.”

“A choice?” Hathų was almost amused by the hypocrisy of that statement. “Didn’t you just say you have orchestrated this all–”

“We’ve  _all_  made our choices already …” Dawn interrupted her softly, flicking her chin around to their two companions: the  _Queen Prophet_  and the  _Angel Prophet_.

“Yes.” Sandalphon nodded. “And now it is your turn.”

“I will not play whatever game you are forc–”

The Angel Prophet interrupted the Princess Prophet’s defiance. “You have always been  _brave_ , Hathų, She Who Hears the Dead, last full-blooded daughter of the  _Deer Clan_ , descendant of the Great Peacemaker and Jigonhsasee.”

“And now, for the first time in your life, you must  _choose_  whether you will pay the  _price_ for his love, which has been given freely …  _until now_.” Lilith poked at the fire.

“What are you talking about?” Hathų’s brow furrowed deeply. “ _Him? … Do you mean …_ “ She swallowed. “ _Michael?_ ”

“What would you do?” Lilith asked. “To ensure his  _freedom_?”

“You … “ Hathų’s mouth fell agape. “You are asking me to …” Her soft voice trailed off as deep thought took hold of her mind and Dawn could see the realization of something spread across her face. “I …”

Dawn was missing something and as she saw the understanding quickly spread across Hathų’s face, she knew she was missing something  _substantial_  to this conversation. Something that both Lilith and Sandalphon seemed privy to.

“Wait … what’re you asking her to do?” Dawn pushed, seeing the anguished expression on Hathų’s face and it broke a piece of her heart. She wished she understood what they were manipulating her into. “What are you–”

“ _He_  has  _always_  chosen you. He  _will_  always choose you, even to the detriment of himself and his own brothers and even to the detriment of your own children. He has proven this fact over and over again.” Sandalphon added. “ ** _You_**  … over everything that is dear to him and his life.  ** _You_**  … over his morals and rules and laws.  ** _You_**  … over his own fate and freedom. It as always been  ** _you_**  and you know it.”

“And now … “ The fire danced higher as Lilith spoke, the flames dancing in the reflection of her dark and menacing eyes. “It is your turn to prove the same to him.”

“But what you are asking of me …” Hathų’s lower lip quivered slightly. “I …” 

“If you do not do what you  _know_  you must …” Lilith shrugged innocently, but Dawn could see the manipulation in full swing. “You force him to pay the price for your hundreds of years of happiness,  _alone_.”

“It doesn’t matter … They already know what you’ll choose to do. That’s the purpose of  _being here_ , right?” Dawn whispered and Hathų stared at her from across the fire. “They already know that what they are telling you will make you do what they want.”

“Do what  _they_  want?” Hathų’s calmness failed. “At the cost of having  _MY FAMILY_? The cost of–”

“Selfish, selfish little  _princess_  …” Lilith cracked a devilish grin.

“Don’t call me that.” Hathų sneered. “Only  _Quin-_ -” She glanced at Dawn guiltily before changing her sentence. “Only the  _boy_  calls me that.”

“Oh yes. I know.” Lilith chuckled with sinister glee. “Because he is  _not_  blind to your nature either. He sees you for exactly what you  _are_. Spoiled.”

“And what is that exactly?” Hathų wasn’t amused in the slightest. “You know nothing about me if you think that my life has  _ever_  been  _easy–_ ”

“And yet, you’ve had so much happiness, do you not see that?  _Hundreds of years of it._ You’ve had your family and your husband and your child and  _his children_. You’ve had everything your heart has ever desired. You were born beautiful and special and coveted, even to your own people. As descendant of the Great Peacemaker, you were given anything you wished. And then, you wanted a Hayyoth and so you  _took_  a Hayyoth. You wanted a  _son_  and so you  _took_  a son–”

“I  _took_  nothing–”

“You don’t understand the meaning of  _hard_ , Princess Prophet.” Lilith scoffed with her usual condescending tone as she pointed her stick at the Iroquoian woman. “ ** _Your life_** has been a  _fairy tale_  compared to  _ours_ , ungrateful little thing. You tell yourself you have made all of these decisions for your children, but it has always been for  _your sake_ , for  _your happiness_.”

“I made my decisions because I  _love_  them …” Hathų argued in desperation. “Everything I have ever done is because  _I love my family_.”

“Really?” Lilith laughed loudly. “You  _seduced_  the only remaining Governor of Heaven because you thought that would be  _best_  for  ** _him_**  or is it because you  ** _desired_**  him? For him to commit the worst crime of his people? For him to fulfill the prophecy of the Desolation of Heaven …  _for his own good or for your own wanton needs_?”

“I …” The words were cruel and Sandalphon closed her eyes tightly as she bit back the urge to come to Hathų’s defense. Dawn could see the vicious honesty that Lilith spoke was painful for everyone present. Were they not all guilty of something similar? And in some way, everything  _was_  the princess’ choice, but did  _they_  not also orchestrate it all? “No.” Hathų refused still. “I do not expect that you would or could understand  _love_ , Corruptor.”

“Oh,  _spoiled little girl_.” Lilith flashed her beautifully white and fanged teeth. “I have loved as deeply as any here. But I think it ironic that  _I_  am labelled  ** _corruptor_**  … when  _that_  title clearly fits  _you_  so much better.”

“Enough.” Sandalphon had had enough. “Do not mince words,  _Queen Prophet_.” She couldn’t hold back the need to correct  _this_  statement. “Everyone here is a  _Corruptor_  in some way. We have  _all_  played a part in the corruption of those we love.”

Dawn, who had been incredibly silent this entire time, taking the time to appreciate that Lilith was lecturing someone other than herself, raised her hand timidly into the air. “Ummm … I haven’t corrupted anyone.”

“Love corrupts all!” Lilith countered with a hearty laugh. “You most  _definitely_  corrupted your Snake Prince.”

Dawn furrowed her brows and turned to look at Sandalphon for help, but her friend was shrugging innocently, seemingly agreeing with Lilith’s statement. “Sorry … but that was the entire point.  _Love has always been the greatest corruptor of all_. It knows no rules and it changes everything it touches.”

“You know what? Screw you guys.” Dawn pouted significantly. “Do I even need to be here for this? I have important stuff to do.”

As she stood to take her leave dramatically, Lilith sneered, pointing her stick at the  _Hayyoth Prophet_. “Sit down.”

“Oh yeah?” A wave of confidence rushed over Dawn’s body and she smiled. “ _Make me._ ”

Lilith stood in response to Dawn’s challenge but something was off about her usual confidence. As Dawn was gauging the situation, an uncharacteristic look spreading across Lilith’s face and it easy to read as she confirmed her assumption; Lilith was  _nervous_.

“Children.  _Children_.” Sandalphon said calmly. “Everyone needs to just calm down. Please. Everyone has the same goal here. Everyone here is on the same team. Please. Sit.”

“I am  _not_  a child.” Lilith spat at the Angel Prophet as she begrudgingly sat back down, glaring at Dawn with annoyance.

“Perhaps not  _physically_ , no.” Sandalphon poked and it seemed as if the situation might escalate again as Lilith opened her mouth to speak again until Hathų spoke softly.

 **[Cardinal - Mt. Joy](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F54YE9pzrjZToZSneNAXV99&t=NGZiMDZmZDQyZTJkMTJiMDczZDM4MDE2MDQzODUyZTA3ZDNlMzE1NyxTOEd0aktpeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166119558503%2Fchapter-91-timing&m=1)**   

> _Yeah everything’s exactly_
> 
> _Everything is exactly where it needs to be_
> 
> _I just wanted you to know_
> 
> _That you don’t have to come clean to me_
> 
> _Yeah everything’s exactly_
> 
> _Yeah everything’s exactly_
> 
> _Everything is exactly where it needs to be_

“How have you all managed  _any_ of this?  All you do is argue _._ ”

“My god, yes. We are so bloody dysfunctional …” The Angel Prophet chuckled.

Then there was a moment of silence and the only noise heard was the crackling of the fire as it burned the wood at its center as a small breeze passed over it.

“So now what?” Dawn finally asked.

“Now …” Her best friend sighed heavily and she could hear a combination of relief and sadness. “We part again and hope that we see each other  _in the undiscovered country_ that now lies before us.”

“Wait … The  _undiscovered country_?” Dawn’s eyes grew wide with concern, knowing that Shakespearian quote quite well. “Isn’t that a metaphor for  _DEATH_?”

She didn’t like to look that Sandalphon gave her. She could read her friend very well and she could tell that Sandalphon wanted to tell her something in response to that, but instead, she bit her lower lip. “To man,  _death_  is unknown, but to  _us_ , I speak of the [unknown future](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FStar_Trek_VI%3A_The_Undiscovered_Country&t=MjM4MWZjM2JkN2NkY2Y2NTZiODg2MWM2NWNiNGRlMzg3MmFlMjNhMCxTOEd0aktpeQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166119558503%2Fchapter-91-timing&m=1).”

Dawn couldn’t help but giggle at her friends statement. It was clear that only the two of them understood the joke and Sandalphon smiled widely, trying to mask the sadness in her eyes each time she glanced at her. The angel took a deep breath and began to do something Dawn had  _never_  seen her do. She began to recite.  

> “ ** _Out of the night that covers me,_**
> 
> Black as the pit from pole to pole,
> 
> I thank whatever gods may be
> 
>     For my unconquerable soul.”

As the last words escaped her mouth, she looked to her right, nodding at Hathų to continue. Surely Hathų didn’t know the next verse, but an anguished smile crept upon her face as she actually continued the poem, touching her head again as she did so.  

> “In the fell clutch of circumstance
> 
>     I have not winced nor cried aloud.
> 
> Under the bludgeonings of chance
> 
>      ** _My head is bloody, but unbowed._** ”

Lilith chucked her stick into the fire and closed her eyes, searching her mind as she continued the poem next.  

> “Beyond this place of wrath and tears
> 
>     Looms but the Horror of the shade,
> 
> And yet the menace of the years
> 
>      _ **Finds and shall find me unafraid.** ”_

Dawn took a deep breath, as the words reminded her of her prince and she recited the last verse, understanding the power of the words and their importance.  

> “It matters not how strait the gate,
> 
>     How charged with punishments the scroll,
> 
> **_I am the master of my fate,_ **
> 
> **_I am the captain of my soul.”_ **

The fire flared so high and the light was blinding before everything faded into blackness and all she could feel was the heat before her. In this precious instant before she would wake up, she heard Sandalphon’s voice, just as she had that terrible point in time when she felt Quintus snap away from her and chills ran down her spine.

In the blackness was her old friend’s voice.  

> _“It will get better. I promise you, child … it will get better. But first … it must get so much worse.”_

In this absolute darkness, it was always Sandalphon’s voice.  

> _“But before you can be fully fixed … before you can understand how to heal … you must first finish breaking …”_

What was she trying to say? What had she wanted to tell her?  

> _“I’m so very sorry …”_


	66. 9.2 - Timing

He lunged for the staff rather dramatically, falsely assuming Michael would try to stop him and a wild grin graced his scarred face. As he brought it to eye level, keeping it parallel to the ground, he waited for something …  _anything_  … to happen. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but when  _nothing_  occurred, he scrunched his nose in annoyance before he started to gently rattle it in his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Michael asked, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall, not even bothering to stand up again. This was likely a good choice as Quintus would most definitely be inclined to strike him back down. “What do you think you’re gonna do with  _that_?”

Quintus glared at the question before he closed his eyes and tried to  _will it_. That worked before, right? On his  _own_  body when he was still alive and also when he wished to  _travel_  places, but nothing was working.  _Nothing was happening._  He opened his eyes again and shook the staff once more, trying to see if maybe it would  _activate_ with a more exaggerated movement.

“You done yet?” Michael asked as he rested his arms on his knees, watching Quintus with a look of amusement. “It ain’t gonna work for  _you, boy_.”

“Why not?” Quintus rattled it again and then hit the end of it against the ground. “I have seen you use it. I know it has  _power_.” He shook the stick again with intensifying aggravation.

_Damnation._

“The Staff has  _no power_.”

“Lies. Trickery.” Quintus spat. “I have seen it–”

“Begotten of a  _Hayyoth_  or not, doesn’t matter. You aren’t one of us.” Michael opened his mouth wide, tenderly touching the side of his jaw as he winced from the pain left from Quintus’ attack. “The staff itself has no power. It only works to enhance what’s already there. You need your own  _well of divinity_  for it to awaken.”

“I have tapped into Ozryel’s power before.” Quintus countered. This was the  _second_ way that Sandalphon said  _one_  can escape  _Heaven_ , was it not?  _Deceiving angel._

“It doesn’t matter if you can pull power from Oz or not, like I said … the staff has no power on its own.” Michael explained. “It  _only_  works to store and  _enhance_  the abilities already present in  _Hayyoth with a well_.”

“Then …” Quintus looked down at the celestial object with disgust. “It  _is_  useless to me.”  _Damn that angel and her ridiculous riddles. Did she not realize she was wasting his time?!_

“Besides, even if it  _could_  work …” Michael cracked his neck, allowing Hathu to kneel beside him as she silently checked his beaten face. “What would you do if you got back to Earth? Have you even thought about  _that_? Did you forget that your body was  _nuked_? It was disintegrated, you moron.”

“Yes.” Quintus admitted without hesitation. “I have already considered that and the price I might pay for returning.” It was the thing that plagued him the most, but he had  _hope_  that  _when_  he  _did_  return, he could have some amount of control over his environment, regardless of what the books might have told him contrary to that belief. “Perhaps I may be able to take  _another_. I have read stories of such a feat–”

“ _Stories_?!” Michael laughed with rich condescension now and Quintus sneered at him as he considered striking the angel another time. “Why do you think we keep the souls bound here?”

“Because  _this is a prison_.” Quintus responded with anger. “You keep everyone locked–”

“We keep the doors shut for their  _own_  good, you  _little shit_. Without a body to house your soul on the Earthly plane, you’ll just wander aimlessly. There are  _few punishments_ as maddening as being a lost soul.”

Quintus knew this fact but he did not care. His mind was already made up.

“You won’t even have  _eyes_  to see with. Nothing you can sense with at all. No smells, no touches, no sounds,  _nothing_. And even if you  _could_  find a body and you  _forced_ your way in somehow, your soul has been bathing in Oz’s divinity for  _millennia_. You would burn through the vessel in a matter of  _minutes_ , maybe even  _seconds_.”

“I have read accounts of spirits interacting with the physical plane as well as communicating with the living.” He learned  _many_  things during his time in the Great Hall of Knowledge.

“Maybe. Yeah … after hundreds of years of practice. After coming to terms with being truly  _nothing_  and even then, those spirits are  _always cRaZy_.” Quintus disliked how Michael said the word as Dawn would have. He disliked that he was seeing more similarities as he stared at the angel and his mannerisms. Michael shook his head. “I have been  _shapeless_ , Quintus, you can’t imagine–”

“Perhaps you forget,  _Governor_. I am a  _very_  good student.”

“I forgot  ** _nothing_**.” The angel finally started to bring himself back to his feet, leaning heavily on his wife as he did so. “I’m telling you that it’s  _not_  possible. Not in the timeframe that  _we_  need. What would you even do?  _Haunt_  her for the rest of her life? How fucking creepy is  _that_?”  

“I …” Quintus had actually thought of the creepy aspect of it and he dismissed it immediately. “I do not care. I will be there, with her, out of this  _prison_.”

“Burning through bodies and what? Hiding her keys from her? Opening all of her cabinets?” The Governor  ** _truly_**  thought the idea of it ridiculous and Quintus felt his reserve falter for just a moment before reclaiming his confidence.

“And what would you have me do?” The dhampir felt his anger begin to boil again. “Stay here and wait as you  _make her mad_?!”

Hathu spoke softly. “Madness would have been the  _result_ , but it was  _not the goal_. It has  _never_  been the goal. It is what happens when one is removed from their collective. It’s not what we wish, but it is the outcome of what  _must_  happen to keep her safe and bring her here … to be with  _us_  …”

“Us?” He smirked. Did she still think she could  _control_  him with this idle promise? “Us?? I am no longer susceptible to  _your_  manipulation, princess. Your goal, even from the beginning, was to keep me complacent and submissive  _with lies_.”

“I never lied–” She attempted a rebuttal but he was quick to interrupt.

“But I remember your words in the elevator. You told me she would  _never_  come to Heaven.  ** _Never_**. So, even if she was brought here, you  _never_  had  _any_  intention of ever allowing me to see her again, otherwise you would have had to disclose  _your_  secret.” 

Her lack of response coupled with the guilt spreading across her face informed him he was  _correct_. His desire to see his  _poet_  again had clouded his judgement that day and he had missed Hathu’s treachery.

“You would have changed her and hidden her away without ever telling me. Pushing me to find happiness without her. Tell me … How different would she have been?” Hathu looked away. “And your son? How different is he?” He asked for clarity, not that it mattered though. He knew this line of questioning would only anger him further, but somehow that was comforting. He needed this anger right now. He needed it to fuel him for what would come next. “How much  _like himself_  is he  _now_? Or did he always have the mind of a simpleton?”

Hathu explained further. “It would not have been all at once, it gets worse over time. He has good days  _and_  bad days. Sometimes he remembers me and other times, he is somewhere else entirely. But I am happy he is still here … with us … existing.”

The mention of her son pained Hathu and she looked down with shame as Michael grew solemn. “No.” The angel said. “ _He was a brilliant man_  … for a  _time_.”

And there it was. The use of the word ‘ _was_ ’ angered Quintus and his raged boiled over once more.

##  **_Was._**   

**[Sail - Edition Analogue by B. Earnd](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0ylslu5RtGM8m14rzSxQGQ&t=ZGI3YTNmYjYyZmM2NTAxNTljZDg4ZGYzZmNiOWJmYmMyZDU5ZGIwNCxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1)**    

> _This is how I show my love_
> 
> _I made it in my mind because_
> 
> _I blame it on my ADD baby_
> 
> _This is how an angel cries_
> 
> _Blame it on my own sick pride_

“Forgive me …” The dhampir scoffed at their guilt-filled excuses. “But I simply refuse to leave her to  _that … predetermined fate_.” Chucking the staff onto the ground, he approached the weakened angel with absolute determination and Michael pushed Hathu back, expecting Quintus to strike again. There was even a flinch, but once he realized what Quintus’ actual objective was, he attempted to resist … without success.

As the dhampir pulled the celestial blade from the sheath hanging from the Governor’s belt, Quintus did strike him one last time but only out of defense of the angel’s refusal to part with the needed prize. Unlike the staff, the moment his hand touched the blade’s handle, he  _felt_  the power coursing through it and subsequently,  _him_.

He struck the Hayyoth one last time, but this time not with his fist. As the butt of the sword connected with Michael’s jaw, the power which reverberated through it sent the angel crashing back to the wall with a grunt before sliding down as his consciousness slipped away.

“Quintus!” Hathu stepped forward, but the look across his face was enough to halt her advance. “Please do not do this. Do not draw attention to her. She … She will not be allowed to exist … in  _this world_.”

“If  _this world_  will not accept her as she is, then it will burn …  _just like Rome did_.” Something in these words resonated with him and he smiled slightly. “There is a great storm brewing, Princess. Can you not feel it as I do?” Her face revealed to him that  _she could_. “And, unlike you, who choose to hide behind your high, safe, ivory walls, I very much intend to be at the very  _center of it_  … where I have  _always_  belonged.”

“We aren’t like them. We can’t help. We will just get in the way. They are  _gods_.” He could hear the defeat in her and  ** _he pitied her_**. “And she will need you  _here_. We must wait  _here_. We must be patie–”

Quintus’ voice was rich with disgust. “You may decide to stay here, protected and coveted by your  _precious king_ , but I will not. I …  ** _cannot_**.” He turned to make his exit, the blade clenched with absolute determination in his godly grip. “She needs me  _there_ and nothing you say will cause me to I doubt that fact again.  _I will delay no longer._ ”  

As he reached for the handle of the door, an embarrassing memory crossed his mind and he turned, his face showing just a hint of shame. In some strange  _celestial_  way, Michael  _was_  her father and his soul cringed at the thought of it … again.  _Deodamnatus._ “When he awakens …” Quintus swallowed hard, pausing for just a moment. “Tell him I apologize for the images I shared to him …  _in the library_.”

“Images?” She was kneeling at Michael, staring back with confusion. “ _What images?_ ”

“He will understand.” Quintus said as he opened the door, a hopeful grin spreading across his face as now he had the answer to the riddle. There was only  _one_  way to leave Heaven now.

##  **The Gate.**

* * *

**[Guilty Filthy Soul (feat. Wale) - Samantha Ronson Remix - Wale](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5WwtKgOKaxbO0tcrBEmHUx&t=YWQ2YmRjNmVkZjNmNGY3ODE2YzlmNmQyNmQ2MzI0YjI3N2RlODUyMixYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1)**    

> _I’m runnin’ out of faith_
> 
> _Be careful who you tell._

Raphael felt his golden-haired brother use the staff to breach the barrier between Earth and Heaven again, but he remained still, looking down at the newly opened gate from his perch high above the sandy beach.

Having let go of his  _human_  appearance, he was fully Hayyoth in his characteristics, the more serpentine features now visible. His ears, pointed and  _very_  large. His cheekbones, sharp and profoundly protruding. His hands  _and_  bare feet, clawed and menacing, the center appendage on each longer than the rest. His taloned feet gripped the stone under him and he crouched in silent preparation, folding his owl-like wings tight against his body.

He wondered why Michael was zipping between worlds so quickly and the curiosity of whatever  _their_  precious secret was pained him.  _He needed to know_. Attempting to push his frustrations aside, he resolved that he would know …  _very soon_. He would  _take_  that knowledge from  _them_  if need be.

Patience, Raphael. He couldn’t track Michael anyways right now, so there was no need to attempt a search for him … yet. That would be the next task at hand. Getting  _his_ staff away  _The Creative One_ , most especially if he was working with  _The Intelligent One_ , would require quite a bit more strategy.

No. Right now, his concern needed to be elsewhere.

He needed to regain control over his  _Child of Prophecy_. There had been few times since the boy took his first breath, had he  _ever_  been outside of Raphael’s watchful presence. Quintus was the  _only_  thing that mattered right now. He needed to protect  _The Storm_. As the Wheel had foretold. As  _his_  Wheel had foretold.

Quintus was  _the storm_ , the key to the  _inevitable_  rebellion, the  _harbinger of the future_. Michael and Ozryel were foolish if they thought Raphael would just give up the child without a fight, but he grinned with burgeoning excitement as he  _knew_  they  _knew_  that as well. It had been such a long time since he had played with his siblings …  _Alas_ , he digressed.

Closing his violet eyes, he reached into the Nexus and re-checked all the points of entry one last time before pulling back the reins on the connection, instructing  _everyone_  to remain silent as Michael would be able to hear them.

Ozryel was disconnected so they didn’t have to worry about her … but something about that statement troubled Raphael. An itch in the back of his mind told him there was something wrong – No. Ozryel is still  _fallen_.

He dismissed it and went back to checking on his brothers. If Gabriel failed to retrieve the boy, then the task would fall on them.  

##  **First …**

In the outskirts of the wall, the lowlands surrounding the first entrance to the path leading to the gate, he felt the majority of Heaven’s army waiting. These were the [Ophanim ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FOphanim&t=NDg3YThkNWJmODM3YWZhNDhmYjgwNTZjMjk0YTNiZjMyNDYwODU0NyxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), the [Erelim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEr%2527el&t=OGUwODgyNjM2ZWQ2MDg2ZTExOTQ0MGU2ZGE4NGU2NWRkZDE5YzU1MSxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), the [Hashmallim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FHashmal&t=YmM3NWQ0OThiMDQyYTAxZDgwM2E4YjgxMzQ1NzRmMDBjNjFmYzUyMyxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), the[ Seraphim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSeraph&t=MTZlMzE0ZjQ3ZmZjNDc4YmM3OTEzMWM3ZWQ2MmY2MzgzZTFiZWE3NSxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), the [Malakim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FJewish_angelic_hierarchy&t=ZTE3MWFjNzQ1ZWJiNGY2YzI0MjEzYjkzMWMyMDU5NzZmYzJkM2RiZixYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), the [Elohim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FElohim&t=ZTMwM2I2N2EzN2U5ZjdkMjQ2YjIwYTY4NmFkZWFiM2EyZmM0MzY5MyxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1), and the [Cherubim](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCherub&t=ZjAyZWUxNTQ2MmQzYjRhMDFlMGQ5N2U3MzkxNzNjOGE5NzI4Mjk4NCxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1). This first wave would be unpassable for Quintus; these were  _all_  the angels, save for the  _Bene Elohim_  themselves. He left them waiting on and under the bridges that expanded over the rolling great plains.

##  **Second …**

He felt all the Bene Elohim, Michael’s good soldiers, the angels who were  _the most plentiful in number_ , ready and positioned after the gate’s second entrance, bottlenecked at the path that wound through the mountains and eventually lead towards the shoreline.

##  **Third …**

Smirking, he verified  _his hidden children_  prepared at the third door, the entry to the walled path that followed the shoreline down to the courtyard entrance itself. Should the boy prove overly resourceful, they would be ready. There was simply no way Quintus would be getting to the waters.

##  **Fourth …**

Uriel sat, still and calm, at one of the tables of the vacant courtyard, just in front of the final door, a massive walled structure that surrounded the beach.

##  **And fifth.**

Raphael himself crouched on this wall, high above the opening between the beach and the cobblestone path into the Courtyard of Heaven.

For the first time in history, Raphael closed his eyes and  _shut down_  travel in Heaven. Being  _The Traveller_ , he maintained control over this ability and now everyone was solidified in their locations.

[ **_Stealth mode._ ** ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F19172380&t=MmIxNzU4ODBlY2QyNzc1ODgxOTY0ZmNlY2U2NDk5NmQ3MWRlOTc0ZCxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1)

Something about this statement brought a wicked little smile to his face and he found himself repeating it many times while he waited. Raphael wouldn’t realize until  _much_ later where he had even learned that statement from, or rather  _who_. Regardless, it pleased him greatly now as his stomach fluttered with excitement over the hunt, eager to see what the boy might do and proud that it had actually come this far in the first place. Was Raphael impressed with him? No, maybe not quite yet, but he was yearning to be.

 _Quintus had always been a clever boy, afterall_.

“Now …” His brilliantly white fangs gleaned as he smiled. “Show me what makes you so  _very special_ , Fifth Invictus.” He breathed deeply. “Show me why  _you_  are who will change the future …”

 

* * *

 

Quintus stood before the door, in the dark and winding hallway, nestled deep within the building in the seediest part of Heaven. He had considered many things before finding himself here. He raised his hand to knock, before hesitating slightly. He didn’t know if he could trust this  _woman_ , whom he once called  _mother_ , but he had little choice now as he required some amount of help and Ozryel continued to be silent after his little  _outburst_  on the Governor.

Rapping on the door, he listened for movement within, but heard none. He tested the knob and found it locked. No matter he thought to himself as he broke it, entered, and surveying the room quickly before finding it empty.

Damnation. So much for the Order of [Argaman](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FArgaman&t=ZjMyYzIwNmVmMzU3OWUwZThkZGRlNzhmNDMzNWJkYTYzNDk0YzMzNixGZEtQZUNieA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160394078603%2F46-knowledge&m=1) then …

What next?  _Who next?_

Quintus hesitated briefly as a thought crossed his mind and he smiled. Rather than bother stepping back out into the hallway first, he closed his eyes and pictured where he wanted to go and  _nothing happened_.

_What the …_

##  **Faex!**

* * *

Abraham sat for a long while before he standing and pacing. Then he sat again before trying to make himself busy and began returning all of the books to their rightful locations. When he was done with that busy work, he sat again and started tapping his fingers on the wood of the table.

Deciding to pace again, he stood, turned and found Quintus staring at him from only five feet away. Abraham jumped at the sight of the dhampir, grabbing at his chest as his heart raced. His heart was no longer sickly, but it was still a reaction that he was used to having.

“Abraham.” Quintus greeted him before looking around. “ _Where is Sempronius_?”

“ _Gone_.” Abraham said. “He said you would know where to find him.”

The dhampir nodded and turned, walking back towards wherever he came and Abraham jumped forward, his hand flying up to halt Quintus’ retreat. “Mr. Quinlan! Wait, where are you going!? I have …  _news_  … about …  _Michael_  …”

Quintus paused, facing the man again. “I already know, Abraham.”

“No, you don’t.” Abraham assumed. “You don’t understand.  _He’s–_ ” Quintus  _needed_  to understand the gravity of the situation.

 **[An Ending, a Beginning - Dustin O’Halloran](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4jF5FDfT8v4Ppn11TnGlok&t=ZjI1ZDMwNjE5NDM1Y2M1YTc1ZGFhYTk4NTVlNDg1Mzc4NTM1OTQzNSxYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1)**  

“I do. I know that she is  _not_  one of  ** _The Broken_**.” The dhampir interrupted him with a solemn tone. “ _She is his._ ”

_Oh … shit._

The professor’s eyes floated down as both men stood silent and it was in this moment that he noticed Quinlan was now wearing his jacket, coat,  _and_  sheath again and that the sword nestled in its leather embrace was not his bone sword …  _but the celestial blade itself._

“Is that the–” He asked, pointing.

“Indeed.” Quintus nodded once.

“But how did you–”

“I must return to  _Earth_  now.” Quintus interrupted him again. The dhampir was clearly not in the mood for discussions now. “Thank you for your  _help_  and your  _strength_. I wish you happiness, Abraham.” He turned to leave again and Abraham, once again, jumped forward, his hand out.

“What the hell do you mean …  _Return to Earth_?! What is happening!? I’m coming with you!” This time, it was Quintus’ hand that come up, halting the man from following him.

“ **No**.” The word was impressively firm.

“No?” Abraham argued with defiance. “No?! To hell with that … I’m  _helping_  you–”

“ **No** , Abraham.” Quintus was  _firm_  in the delivery of his words. “This is now beyond the realm of any help you might be able to provide.”

“Don’t underestimate me. [There is no way I will let you fight this fight alone, Mr. Quinlan.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20796196&t=MzJjYjQ1ZWYxNzdlZWIzNDVhMTU1Y2Q1NDU1YjM3YTJlYTU3ZWVmYixYNGg2RXBORA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166363747233%2Fchapter-92-timing&m=1)”

“I know.  _I know._ ” Quintus smiled meekly as he stepped forward, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you remember the day you died? Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” The question was simple and Abraham knew exactly  _what_  he was talking about. It caused the Professor to pause.

“Yes.” The Professor admitted lowly.

“Do you remember you offered me  _advice_?” The dhampir pressed.

“Yes.” Abraham sighed heavily, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Then allow me to offer you the same now …” Quintus placed his other hand on the Professor’s other shoulder and stared down into his face with pride. “Shkoder, Albania … 1967, was it not? For that woman, you claimed you would have given up everything … that  _regret_  you spoke of?”

“But this is–”

“ ** _Regret is a terrible thing._** ” Quintus said, remembering the Professor’s words on that painful day clearly. “Do you not realize, you have, within your grasp, that which you had regretted losing before. It has been returned to you and I have selfishly accepted your help, regardless of the danger it placed upon you, regardless of the consequences that might arise from it … simply because I long for what you already have …  ** _here_**  … waiting for you.”

“Mr. Quinlan … I …” Abraham fought the need to argue with him. How could he just walk away from this fight? How could he just leave him to deal with it alone? How could he ask him to just–

“You are  _just_  a man and this is a fight with  _gods_. You have done  _more_  than  _enough_.” The assurance was clear and Quintus pulled his hands from the Professor’s shoulders. “Enjoy your paradise with no further regrets.” Quintus offered his hand for the Professor to take and he accepted it, shaking it firmly. This was so much better of a  _goodbye_  than their last. “ **You are a true friend, Abraham.** ”

“And you, Mr. Quinlan.” The Professor surrendered. “ _And you._ ”  


	67. Visual Aid - Sons of Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun with Photoshop to help motivate and inspire myself. Enjoy! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

 

 

##  **_Sons of Creation_ **

**_Inspired by:_ **

  * _**Ozryel:** Tilda Swinton_
  * _**Michael:** Kurt Russell_
  * _**Gabriel:** Jason Mamoa_
  * _**Raphael:** Michael Ealy_
  * _**Lucifer** : Ezra Miller_
  * _**Uriel** : Daniel Wu_




	68. 9.3 - Timing

“This is crazy. You’re talking about the devil …  _The fucking Devil_?” Dutch dismissed the implication. “ _Satan himself?_ ”

“While they are quite often conflated as the same, I assure you the Morning Star is not in fact Shaitan. Shaitan is a simple fallen Djinn. I am speaking of Lucifer himself, my dear.  _The First Fallen. Prince of Darkness, King of Hell_  and  _The Most Powerful of the First Brood_.”

“First brood?” Fet wasn’t familiar with that term but no one spoke up to help him with the misunderstanding.

“ _Bloody hell_  …” Dutch uttered it without much thought to how her words were actually fitting.

“Oh yes. If we fail … if  _he_  succeeds …  ** _bloody hell_**   _indeed_ , Mrs. Velders.” Thomas agreed with utter seriousness.

“You still didn’t answer the question … ” Gus countered, steering the conversation back on track. “What does he want from  _her_?”

“He seeks to break her,  _Mr. Elizalde_.” Thomas sighed. “And I fear I was the only thing keeping her grounded.”

“You? You? Keeping  _her_  grounded? That’s rich.” Dutch mocked his words.

“Break her?” Fet’s face contorted with worry. “ _How_?”

“What does he want?” Gus asked, shortening his previous question as he began to get frustrated with the slowness of the conversation.

“What he wants … “ Thomas said. “Is to be free from his self-imposed  _prison_. He wants what  _everyone_  in Hell wants. He wants out. He wants … to  ** _come home_**.”

Dutch laughed out loud now, not fully understanding quite yet. “And he thinks she’s gonna break him out of  _Hell_? Sorry, no. Not buying that. She’s a  _smartass cookie_. She’s not a foo–”

“He is  _very clever_ , my dear. He has watched her her  _entire_  life. He has promised her something he  _knows_  she will not refuse and she does not fully realize what he wants from her yet and I don’t think she will … until it is too late. I do not care how  _smart_  she may be, he is  _The Snake from the Garden_. She does not realize it yet, but  _she_  is the key to his freedom.”

“How?” Gus was targeted in his question. “ _What kind of key?_ ”

“She is  _special_ , Mr. Elizalde.”

“No shit, esé.” Gus barked.

“Oh yeah? Ya think?” Fet attempted to be condescending, but he obviously didn’t have the confidence to back up his wavering voice, his face contorting with further concern as his ignorance shown through. “Special  _how_? Eph said she was part  _muncher_  … ”

“Perhaps …” Thomas sighed, gesturing towards the couch. “I should start  _from the beginning_?”

“Beginning? When exactly was that, asshole?” Dutch bit at the offer.

“There are several actually. Many beginnings to  _this_  tale, my dear. The Fall of Lucifer, The Fall of Ozyrel, or maybe even The Corruption of Michael?” Thomas cocked his head to the right, thinking carefully and missing the presence of  _The Jew_  for the first time. Abraham would have already been quite versed on the Book of Enoch. “But, actually … let me begin with  _The Children of Fornication_ , the  _Nephilim_. The Bene Elohim and their progeny, the Giants and …  _The Prophecy of the Demiarc, that which is feared like none other_  … the  _Most Forbidden of All_.”

 

* * *

 

“We should not delay further!” Barqan barked to the back of the apartment. “Stop delaying, woman!”

“You know …” Barb responded with growing disdain as she walked out of the bedroom, pulling yet another large rolling luggage behind her. “It never works out in your favor when you call me that.” Yes. He knew  _that fact_  very well and he cringed slightly, not offering an apology but taking the handle of the bag from her to hurry her along. “Put it in the car … I need to get the last one.”

“ANOTHER one?! How many do you plan on bringing?!” He huffed. It wasn’t really a fair complaint, as he hadn’t really had time to accumulate any worldly belongings yet. She ignored him and returned to the room for the final bag. “Fine! I will just put this in the car!”

Grumbling to himself under his breath, he reached for the front door handle. He was eager to get on the road and moving. When they woke a few hours earlier, he had seen the news reports of  _both_  the gate  _freezing_  and then  _unfreezing._  Then the videos online that spread like wildfire, videos of … Barqan couldn’t believe his eyes at first … videos of Michael spreading his goddamn wings and taking flight in Rome …  _in public_.

Swinging the door open wide, he held his breath as he looked down at the familiar spotted face and green eyes which peered back at him with a strangely cute and unintimidating scowl.

“Hey, can you grab the extra pack of cigs from the glovebo–” Barb was in the middle of asking while she walked out of the bedroom, pulling an even larger rolling bag behind her. As she locked eyes on the small woman who stood at the entry to their home, she froze, gulping heavily. “Ah …  ** _shit_**.”

Her scowl faded and Barqan heard a distant and  _all too familiar laughter_  from the quietest parts of the Nexus, and unlike Abyad, he recognized  _exactly_  who’s voice it was and a chill ran down his spine as he found himself unable to move or  _speak_.

Dawn could read his fear and she smiled ever so slightly. “Hello again …  _Great Fire_.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Leaves - Zola Blood](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4j9aY7bc0tJiLOwf3LyCzb&t=YzM2NDYzZDRjNmJiYzBlMWFjYjZhY2U5NmZhZWQ5YmVjMWQzYTRiMSwzc1VudzREVg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166554434643%2F93-timing&m=1)**  

> _It’s a slow show_  
>  Tell me when the end comes  
>  Make it be the honest one  
>  Cause a thousand leaves are falling down
> 
>   
>  It’s a slow show  
>  Tell me when the end comes  
>  Make it be the honest one  
>  Cause a thousand leaves are falling down

He awoke to her lovely brown eyes. They were a sea of amber, floating amidst flecks of raven. These eyes could calm his  _fiercest fire_  and he stared up into her with wonder. As always, a smile graced his thin lips as he looked back into those most precious irises. But she didn’t return the smile as she normally did and the situation slowly came back to him and he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“Quintus?” Michael asked immediately.

“Gone.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Too long.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he bent it to the side, cracking it in a futile attempt to alleviate some of the pain that throbbed through his body, but he knew better than that. A blow from a celestial weapon would take  _some time_  to recover from and he panicked for a moment, looking across the floor and spying the staff still laying there. _Oh thank god._

Relief spread across him and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to calm his racing heart. Everything was spiralling even further out of control and though he longed to go after Quintus, he also knew there were more pressing issues right now. Keeping the boy from Raphael was key to maintaining his secret, but as he gazed across his tiny house, locking eyes with the bound  _White King_ , he wasn’t sure it  _could_  be a secret any longer.

Hathų helped him return to his feet and the first step was nearly disastrous but he quickly found his footing as his strength return. He approached the gagged Djinn slowly, bending down to his prisoner, he squinted as he waved the ring towards Abyad’s eyes. “I’ve no patience for  _any_  shit right now, old friend. Even without the blade, I can still  _bind_  you.”

Abyad nodded only once to show his intended compliance and Michael pulled his gag free. They were  _once_  friends. They were  _once_  allies. They were  _once_  brothers. A certain benefit of the doubt  _could_  be afforded … but first … “You burned her?” Michael  _felt_  that fire through her and he knew only Djinn kings could burn  _that hot_.

“I did not realize she was your–” The king tried to excuse himself and Michael’s hand was on his throat, squeezing just enough so that no further words would not escape.

“Sorry. How this works is … I’ll ask the questions and you’ll answer them. Understood?” A single nod and he released Abyad’s neck. “You burned her?”

A single and solemn nod as Abyad understood what would come next and Michael struck him. Hard. Sending the Djinn’s head bouncing off of the wall behind him, but he remained utterly silent, understanding the rules fully.

“What did she want from you?”

“She has the  _Lumen_.” Abyad answered as succinctly as he could. “She wish me to  _forge_  it for her.”

“Forge it …” Michael repeated the words under his breath. “He’s looking to make his own celestial weapon?”

A single nod.  _He_.  _Damn_.

“Where’s she going?”

“No idea.”

“Who else is there?” Michael asked. In the beginning, there had been  _Seven_  Djinn kings, but as far as  _he thought he_  knew, all except Barqan, were gone. Three were in  _Hell_  and three were  _destroyed_. It was always assumed that Abyad was among those  _destroyed_  …

“On Earth?” Abyad asked for clarification, but he really didn’t need it. “I was the only one left, except  _The Black King_ , that is. But even we cannot find him … I doubt she knows of his existence–”

Michael nearly laughed. “She knows of him …” The Hayyoth took a deep breath in. So, he needed to get to Barqan immediately. “You said  _we_  … Who is  _we_?”

“We …” Abyad hesitated and Michael’s fingers clenched together into a fist tightly. “We are the  ** _Order of Argaman_**  … The Fallen Children.”

Michael knew there were sects of Fallen on Earth. Barqan had admitted as much to him, but he knew the Djinn had kept many things from him for safety. “Is that how you still  _live_?”

“Yes.”

“What is this  _Order_?”

“We …” Hesitation again and Michael cocked his head to the right, giving his best exasperated stare. Did he  _really_  need to strike him again or take the information forcibly? “We exist to protect the  _Child of Prophecy_  and usher in  _the future_.”

“The future?” Michael laughed out loud. “The Child of Prophecy? Then your goal is to bring about the fall of  _Heaven_?”

“Michael.” Abyad addressed him calmly. “You, of all people, should  _now_  realize …  _Falling_  is too often confused with  _Freedom_ , my lord.”

“Madness.” Michael responded. “And you are  _mad_  if you think I’ll ever let Heaven fall …”

“And yet …” Abyad smiled. “Here we are …  _my falling Hayyoth_.”

 _Fair enough._  “You’ve help from Heaven?” No beating around the the bush. There was not way any of this would have been possible without it.

“Yes.”

“Who?” Perhaps there were allies here he could tap?

“I’ve no idea.”

“ ** _Who_** , Abyad?” He leaned in, menacingly, but Abyad’s honest shrug told him the angel really had no clue.

“I have no idea, my Lord. None of us do. No one knows who Argaman is.”

“Fair enough.” Michael wasn’t sure what further use he might be and he brought his ring to his lips, quietly whispering the enochian word for  _Sleep_  into it before pushing it against the White Kings skin and the Djinn slipped into unconsciousness with ease.

Retrieving the staff, Michael moved towards the door, turning to address Hathų with tired confidence. “Go to the meadow. Leave him. No one will find him. Go to the meadow now. I’ll be back  _for you_.”

“Back for me?” She stepped forward. “You cannot  _be back_  for me, Michael. You  _must_ run. You must–”

“Run?” He scoffed at her instruction. “ _I will never run. I will_   ** _never_**   _leave you._ ”

“Michael …” Her hand was on his arm, delicate and needy in her touch. “They will  _hunt_ you.  _You must run_. You cannot come back here … not for me. At least  _not now_  … They will put you in prison. They will  _judge_  you. They will–”

“Hathų, I don’t care.” There was nothing she could say and she could read him like a book. “Without  ** _you_**  … without  ** _them_**  …” Their children. “There’s nothing else I want from this existence.” His tone was unusually firm. “You’re the only things in creation that matter to me anymore.” He cupped her face in his large hands, tilting her eyes up to stare back into his. “ ** _I will fix this._**  I  ** _will_**  go and I  ** _will_**  bring her back with me … We  _will_  come back to you.  ** _I will always come back to you._** ”

He planted a single and prolonged kiss upon her forehead before he stepped out of their small house for the  _last time_  and she watched him vanish before her tearful eyes.

 

* * *

 

“A strigoi is simply a human shell,  _commonly_  devoid of any soul, inhabited by the mad remnants of the splintered archangel Ozryel.” Thomas explained.

“But you ain’t that.” Gus challenged the statement.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “As I said …  _commonly_. The soul needs a living brain to inhabit a Qliphoth. My brain was allowed to remain fully intact.”

“Huh.  _Lucky you._ ” Dutch sneered, unable and unwilling to hide her disdain for him still.

“Wait …” Fet rolled his hand in a reverse circle, implying he was about to re-address something. “So, he needs her Clay-fought?”

“Qliphoth.” Thomas corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Her earthly shell … he needs dat? Why?”

“And if he’s so  ** _goddamn powerful,_**  where the bloody hell is his Clay-fought?” Dutch asked.

“Qliphoth.” Thomas corrected again. “I was never privy to that information. You cannot  _technically_  destroy a Hayyoth shell, so his brothers hid it from him and  ** _the world_**. It was entombed. Isolated it from all contact. This was one of the many secrets the Master hoped to glean from the  _Lumen_  …”

“Entombed? Oh shit …” Fet sighed heavily as bumps ran across his arms, putting two and two together. “Da  _Other_  Ancient … da one in Egypt … that was …  _Lucifer’s body?_ ”

She wanted to desperately talk about this fact, but there was a lot of information to process and Dutch shook her head. “Ok. Ok. Stop. Stay on point here …” She breathed. “So, if he gets her body?”

“The world is  _over_ , my dear.” Thomas shrugged. “Resurrecting Lucifer was the Master’s plan all along.”

“Wait, what? His plan?” Gus furrowed his brow. “How could she have been his plan  _all along?_ ”

“She is the  _Dawn_  …  _The Dawn_  is the bringer of  _The Morning Star_. It  _all_  started with her  _DNA_  test at Stoneheart, Mr. Elizalde. Everything began in that  _instant._  Everything was suddenly possible. And when she was not on that plane, as planned, the Master lashed out, as he often  _did_.”

“And the strigoi invasion?”

“A  _very good_  distraction. The Master  _was_  not a fool. He  _knew_  he could not defeat  _Heaven_  without the forces of  _Hell_  behind him, without the  _little cobra_  standing by his side. Any glory on Earth would have been short lived without the  _Shining One_.”

“For what purpose?” Dutch asked. “Why? What’s the endgame–”

“End? Perhaps, but to every end, there is also  ** _beginning_**.” Thomas chuckled. “With the power of Ozryel  _and_  Lucifer, they were going to wipe the slate clean and begin again, but this time, in  _their image_ , not  _his._ ” Thomas looked up briefly, sneering into the space above his head.

“ ** _Jesus_**  … So dis has  _never_  been about control of da world …” Fet sat down, his face contorting with emotional torment. “Dis has never been about  _strigoi_  at all … ”

“No, Mr. Fet.” Thomas smiled, something amused him about this revelation. “It has not. This … has always been about  ** _Eschaton_**  …”

“[Eschanton](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEnd_time&t=OTFhZmNmNjc1OTVhMjg3YTM5YTYzMjcxYjZhMGEyMzYxZGI0YWE2MCwzc1VudzREVg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166554434643%2F93-timing&m=1)?” Gus asked for clarity.

“The End Time.” Thomas answered. “The End of Days.”

“You said the  _light bringing shit_  promised her something?” Dutch asked, almost afraid to hear the response. “I don’t buy that she’d do something like this just willy nilly.”

“Quintus.” Thomas admitted easily. “He has promised her the return of the Bastard Born.”

“Dat’s just  _crazy_.” Fet nearly laughed. “He’s … “ Painful hesitation. Painful memories and Fet’s brow furrowed at the thought of it. “ _He’s ash_.”

“Mr. Fet.” Thomas looked at him with curiosity. “You have just been told there is a  _Heaven_  and a  _Hell_. You have just  _seen_  an archangel take flight before your very eyes and you think that a simple  _resurrection_  is beyond all reason?”

“I …” He stuttered to respond, thinking about it and shrugging innocently. “Guess not …”

“No. She wouldn’t do that.” Gus refused. “She ain’t dumb–”

“She is  _not_  stupid, Mr. Elizalde, but she is  _naive_. She thinks she can control  _him_ , but the very opposite is in play.”

“She ain’t gonna  _give him_  control of her body–”

“She already has …  _on several occasions_. I have witnessed it. Did you not see the night club?” The humans answered with silence and he continued, his face growing serious. “But, he does not wish to have temporary control. He seeks to take her body long term. He seeks to drive her soul from it so that he might take the helm permanently.”

“Drive her soul from it?” Dutch choked. “To kill her?”

“Nothing is ever that simple. If it was, then the Master would have just killed her when we had her.” Thomas shook his head. “No. If she were to  _just_  die, her divine soul would be thrust to Heaven and there would be no path for him to follow back to her  _shell_.”

“You’re barely making  _any sense_ , you  _shiny fuck_.” Dutch was starting to become frustrated with the conversation. The thoughts of what might be in store for her friend were beginning to make her nauseous … or maybe that was because of something else …

“There is only  _one_  way a divine soul can be thrust into  _Hell_ , my dear. There is only one rule,  _one sin_ , that must  _never_  be broken by  _any soul in creation_. The  ** _very loophole_**  that Lucifer himself used to circumvent judgement of  _Heaven_.”

“Fuck. Just out with it,  _bruh_!” Gus said with fire in his eyes, but his stomach grew uncomfortable, as he actually knew what the Nazi meant. “ _Just say it_.”

“He seeks to  _break_  her, Mr. Elizalde. Mind, body,  _and_  spirit.” Thomas said.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Dutch sat down quickly, her body reeling with continued nausea.

“Break her?” Fet asked, innocent and confused as ever. “What are you–”

“She’s gotta do it herself, bruh.” Gus met his large friend’s eyes, recalling his strict Catholic upbringing and  _that_  most loathed  _mortal sin_  as he turned to Thomas, desperation thick in his voice. “Where are they going? You gotta have some idea?”

“I am uncertain where her next stop is, but I  _am_  certain I know where his eventual destination will be.”

“Where’s that?” Dutch remained as calm as possible.

“[Lake Baikal](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FLake_Baikal&t=NDI2YzJjM2ZkYWQzMTYxNTM2ZTA0ZGVmYmY2NmM2OTk3M2ZiMDk1Ziwzc1VudzREVg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166554434643%2F93-timing&m=1).” Thomas said without hesitation. “Siberia.”

“Why?” Dutch asked, but a small part of her knew she wasn’t prepared for the answer.

“It is the Gate to Hell.”

 

* * *

 

Ah crap. This is a bad sign.

The apartment door was open just a crack and Michael cringed.  _Shit_. As he pushed it completely open, he saw the woman within, tied to the wooden dining table chair and he unbound her immediately.

“Did she take him?” His question was simple and short.

“Yeah.” Barb nodded, rubbing her wrists where the rope had rubbed against her skin. “They left hours ago.”

“Any idea where they went?”

“No. She wasn’t very talkative.” Barb said as he turned to leave and she spoke again. He could hear the worry in her voice. “Is she gonna to kill him?”

“I don’t think so.” Michael’s own tone offered her little assurance and he hesitated for a moment, not fully understanding Lucifer’s influence on her yet. “At least not until she gets what she needs from him.”

“Good luck.” He heard before he willed himself to the  _Ukrainian_  next.

 

* * *

 

 **[The Walker - Gayngs](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6ww0mbRkenmRS3Q3XdIIRi&t=MGM5MmE4YjEwYWIxNzVlMDJmOWM1NmEyOTdiOWRmYjBlOTg1YzhiNCwzc1VudzREVg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166554434643%2F93-timing&m=1)**  

> _I’ve been walking for days_
> 
> _I wore out my shoes_
> 
> _There’s a dust storm approaching_
> 
> _And everything will change_
> 
> _And I’m tied to you_
> 
> _Baby I’m on my way_
> 
> _I’m jumping over fences_
> 
> _I’m taking baths in rain_
> 
> _I’m not worrying about sleeping_
> 
> _Until I see your face_
> 
> _There’s a dust storm approaching_
> 
> _And everything will change_
> 
> _I’m tied to you_
> 
> _Baby I’m on my way_

He didn’t even try to run. There was something either more practical about Barqan than Abyad, or perhaps he was just  _more_  cowardly. In all fairness though, Barqan knew who she was and Abyad didn’t.

She was surprised though as he hadn’t argued with her once or tried to  _talk her out of anything_. Actually, he hadn’t really said  _anything_  to her. There was a hint of  _shame_  in his demeanor and she could read it in his eyes each time he looked at her. During the long ride, he watched the road mostly. Occasionally, he would glance around at the backseat. EL would smile back at him when he did, but she knew Barqan couldn’t  _see_ him.

“Do you  _feel_  him?” She asked at one point, speaking only the once and Barqan responded with a nod. He  _feared_  and his obvious fear actually made her uneasy. But she brushed it aside and focused on her motivation instead. While she drove, she thought about  _many_  things.  _Her destiny_.  _Her fate_.  _Her future_. She thought about Quintus and she thought about  _chaos_.

It wasn’t Barqan’s silence that caused her the most unease, but it was EL’s. He still hadn’t talked to her much since her show of power on the roof and she knew he was mulling things over in his mind.  _Fuck_.

When they pulled up to the burned, defunct factory, she stepped out and took a deep breath in of the all too familiar area. She spied her perch far above and remembered when Quintus had stepped out similarly, the first time she had ever seen him was in this same parking lot.

She could have gone  _anywhere_ , she supposed, but this was  _hers_  now. After the dream she had, she asked Ferraro to look into the property for purchase. She understood that  _this_  was where she would face Michael again and she smiled as the memories of her last time here, with the  _Born_ , washed over her.

 _Everything began here_  and it was fitting that it should end here as well. Something about that sentence painfully lingered in her mind, but EL, feeling her unease, reassured her from behind. 

> “Stay focused.”

Fet had said Quintus burned it down, but it was clear the fire had only consumed the one building and even then, there was minimal damage to the steel and brick foundation. It was architected in such a way that the flames didn’t touch the remaining three buildings and she smiled. It was all still here and she knew it would have everything the  _Djinn_  needed to build her what she required.

As they walked through the main manufacturing floor, Barqan looked around carefully but still remained silent until she addressed him.

“Does it have what you need?”

“Yes.”

“Then …” Grinning madly, she hoisting the duffel bag onto a metal work table and fished the Lumen out. As she chucked it at him, Barqan plucked it from the air with ease, his face falling as he stared down at the powerful metal in his hands. “Best get to it,  _Black King_.”

 

* * *

 

“JESUS!” Dutch jumped at the sudden appearance of the archangel and she grabbed at her chest dramatically.

“Heh. Not quite. Close, I suppose.” Michael couldn’t help but smirk at his own joke, but he wasted no time, pointing at Thomas. “He say anything?”

“Antonio Ferraro.” Fet said. “He’s an employee of Quin–” Michael was already gone, mid-sentence and Fet threw up his hands. “What the hell? Dat’s just great, man. Fucking great.”

“Do you really think any of  _us_  can help him with what he must do?” Thomas asked. “He is more powerful than even the Master at his height …”

“We failed her.” Everyone knew it wasn’t  _just_  her he was talking about. It wasn’t  _just_ her he felt he had  _failed_. Gus eased down onto the couch and silently stared at the picture in his hands. The same one that Fet had been using to show people when they were searching for her in the States. He stared at the tiny woman on the far right of the image, whom he had his arm around and was in the middle of planting a kiss on the side of her forehead “ ** _We gotta have faith_**. We just …” It was obvious he was trying to convince  _himself_. “We gotta have faith that he can help her.”

“Help? Do you actually think he is her  _ally_ , Mr. Elizalde?” Thomas admitted readily. “Do not be foolish.”

“Wait … what the hell do you mean now?” Dutch asked. “He’s her  _family_  … you just told us he’s her grandfa–”

“I did indeed.” The Nazi shook his head. “But, as I  _know_  Mr. Elizalde can attest …  _family is_   ** _not_**   _always on your side_. He is the Right Hand of God. He will do what is  _necessary_  to save creation …  _and himself._ ”

“Maldito puto!”

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Ferraro.” Michael approached the man sitting quietly at the desk from behind.

“She is here.” Without even turning to look upon the Hayyoth, the italian man lifted up a piece of paper with one hand while he tapped the screen of his phone with the other. An address was printed elegantly across the note. “She is expecting you, sir.”

The angel paused for a moment, mulling over that statement carefully before taking the note and reading the information scribbled across it. He  _knew_  this location, of course. He had watched her for many months at  _this location_  and he closed his eyes tightly.

He considered taking Ferraro somewhere, but it wouldn’t be necessary. It would  _all_  be over soon.

“I appreciate your cooperation.” Michael offered his gratitude before he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 **[So Silent - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6wnhnyDapNQETxkKrkXYKM&t=NDk3ZTZhZDkyOWRhZDY5YmUwMThlYjM3ZDU1NmQ2YTBmOGMwN2M1ZSwzc1VudzREVg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166554434643%2F93-timing&m=1)**  

> _She was tripping on something that was laced in her tea_
> 
> _And she was high as a kite when she said she could see_
> 
> _Said we in the land of the free but no freedom grows_
> 
> _And if we in a brave new world where’d the brave all go_

Her phone dinged with the arrival of Ferraro’s text message. Fishing it out of her pocket, she stared down at the SMS:

##  **On his way. Happy Hunting.**

The  _timing_  was perfect and Barqan approached her, holding out the newly crafted weapon for her to take and assess. He tried to talk her into a sword or even a  _spear_ , but in the end, she demanded he make it into a staff again. It  ** _had_**  been a staff before, when the Monkey King wielded it and she knew that was always her weapon of choice.

As she took it from his offering hands, gripping it tightly, she smirked, appreciating its weight and feeling the power resonating throughout it. If this tiny shard gave off  _this much_  power, she could only imagine what the actual celestial blade was like. Her fingers traced its surface carefully and she felt the sense of  _being home_  run over her soul as her arms filled with nervous bumps.

 _Perfect._  It was …  _perfect_. It was …  _hers_. 

> “My brothers and I …” EL stepped forward, from behind her, and she could  _feel_  his pride. “We were  _given_  our  _gifts_. We never  _earned_  them. We never earned  _anything_  we were given. We were simply  _born_  with power.”

He walked around her carefully and she  _knew_  his words would be perfect, because he was so good at speaking to her heart. He had  _always_  known her, hadn’t he? 

> “But you …  _you have earned_  this. You have crawled your own way out of their pit of obscurity and  _made_  them see you.” He smiled. “And this …” He spun, waving his hands at the building around them.  “And this is  _your story_ , Aurora. And you …  _you_ have never needed to be  _gifted_  anything, because you have  _always_  owned your own agency.”

She gripped the staff tighter. How much of this was  _her own_  doing, her own agency really? And how much of this was  _her sisters’_  doing? But as the question danced across her mind, she realized something she had missed before.

They had told her. She  _had_  a choice. She always did. That was the entire point of  _everything_. It wasn’t that it couldn’t  _be_  changed, but it was that everything was happening because  _she had decided it_. They weren’t in charge of future, but rather, they had cleverly and intentionally  _put her_  in charge of it.

 _This was_   ** _her story_**   _and she_   ** _was_**   _the flood_. Disastrous and cruel … and  _unrelenting._

She swung it once and smirked. There was one difference she asked him to make on the shaft, one which the Monkey King did not have. It would have made no difference if it  _had_  it anyways, as humans wouldn’t have been able to power them, because only Hayyoth blood can drive a Glyph of Power.

And the shaft was littered with them, each and every one taken from the hidden pages of the  _Lumen_  … just like her Sun Stik, covered in marks. Each design, swirled and delicate, powerful, beautiful, and unique. She locked eyes with EL and he flicked his chin towards the direction of the parking lot. 

> “ ** _He’s here._** ”

####  **Absolutely brilliant commission by[@needlesslycryptic](https://tmblr.co/m7WPf5-rfdnWn8efhFpbYPQ)**


	69. Visual Aid - Daughters of Time

##  **_Daughters of Time_ **

**_Inspired by:_ **

  * _**Lilith:** Lupita Nyong'o_
  * _**Sandalphon:** Emily Blunt_
  * _**Hathu:** Q'orianka Kilcher_
  * _**Dawn:** Valorie Curry_




	70. 9.4 - Timing

**[Divine Simulacrum - Yeasayer](https://open.spotify.com/track/4B7yLkxlNsmByJaXs84wkQ)**  

> _She’s not your average station vixen_
> 
> _Or a manic pixie dream girl_
> 
> _She’s a mimeogragh, not a blot on your past_
> 
> _And you cannot leave her vision_
> 
> _She’s Divine Simulacrum_
> 
> _And you can’t help your attraction_
> 
> _She’s divine, she was made for you_
> 
> _And it could be so good_

She was alone …  ** _on this fucking rock_**  … unable to leap free, falling to her knees as she stared down at her hands, but this time she was not crying.

_No. She was so very tired of crying._

Gripping the metal bar tightly in her little fists, she took deep breaths and waited patiently.

A light shone bright behind her, it seemed artificial and intense, casting her shadow long and slender on the worn concrete floor ahead of her. She looked at the fresh spray paint haphazardly strewn across it in various places and as her eyes floated up from her lap, she smirked.

A clap of distant thunder.

Her muscles tensed.

It was then that she saw the other shadow approaching slowly from behind her. It had moved silently and its shadow had entirely encompassed hers before she heard its heartbeat. Strong and dangerous, just like hers.

She stared at the outlined shape on the ground, knowing who it was. Tall, broad-shouldered, and masculine. His voice was calm and firm, just as she remembered it.

“Dawn?”

_Yes._

“Hello Grandfather.” She sneered fiercely through her clenched teeth as she tightened her grip on the intricately carved shaft in her hands, her leather gloves squeaking from the pressure against the metal staff.

 ** _Round one_**  … had been in her childhood bedroom. That night when he burned her. She lost that round.

 ** _Round two_**  … had been on that rooftop. That afternoon when she bent time around him. She won that round.

_Now …_

**_Round three_**  …

Mr. Parker’s voice echoed from the deepest part of her memory …

 

> _“Remember, little one, they can’t attack you if they can’t stand.”_

 

* * *

 

 **[Vapour - Vancouver Sleep Clinic](https://open.spotify.com/track/3piBkAlDyMAI0WQ5SMQdxB)**  

> _This ship was only ever built to fall apart_
> 
> _The oceans that we couldn’t cross_
> 
> _The London Bridge is caving in_
> 
> _Cities melt into my skin_
> 
> _It’s looking thin_
> 
> _Where my heart is there’s never a home_
> 
> _These wooden doors are closed and this prison’s cold_
> 
> _In my glory bowing out to the crowd_
> 
> _Returning to the ground_

He didn’t like being unable to  _blink_  around in Heaven. Having to actually walk to locations was both confusing and annoying. Heaven was  _vast_. He put his human facade back on and walked for what seemed like ages, trying to find the exact road back to  _Elysium_.

As he finally approached the tiny cottage, he could see Sempronius sitting comfortably at the table outside, his reading glasses on and a book open in his hands. Honoria was exiting the building with a pitcher full of something iced and she filled up his glass before settling into the chair beside him.

This moment hit Quintus hard and he could  _see_  their happiness here. He could  _feel_ their peace and for a moment, he envied them as well as coveted what they had found together …  _here_. His envy quickly melted to shame as he paused, considering  _not_ asking for their help at all. He could simply walk away and leave them to their eternity of paradise.

What could helping him cost them? Anything? Nothing?  _Everything_? He wasn’t sure, but what he did know was giving Sempronius the  _option_  of helping was what Quintus himself would appreciate, if the situation were reversed.

Honoria was mumbling about being  _bored_  and wishing to go on a walk. Sempronius seemed to be completely ignoring her until Quintus forced himself forward, into their view.

His father let the book float down to the table top as he moved his glassed down to the very tip of his nose, allowing him to peer at Quintus over their rim. “Quintus.”

“Oh!” Honoria sprung to her feet and approached him. There was brief hesitation as she considered embracing him, then thought  _not_  to embrace but then suddenly did. He grinned slightly at her awkwardness and half returned the gesture, patting her on the back with strange enthusiasm. A half hug was  _far_  better than Quintus had afforded  _most_  and she accepted it with a full hearted smile. “Please join us!”

“I …” He stared at the empty seat at the table and his heart sank a bit. It would have been easy to just sit and accept their peace and …  _exist_  in this harmony with the family he had  _always_  wanted, but that was not an option that he had any desire for anymore. In showing him what his human life  _would_  have been like and in confessing to him that  _he_  had wished this fate, she had set him  _free_  of any lingering desire to  _be normal_. Quintus had never felt greater clarity than he did in  _this_  instance. “I cannot stay. I have come to request …” The words stuck in his throat. Had he  _ever_  asked for help before? _Yes_. He was sure he had. Many times, in fact. As a general, as a leader, as a hunter … He paused. But, had he ever asked for  _help_  from someone he  _loved_  before?

Love? Did he just … Yes. He did. Staring back into his mother’s gray-blue eyes that he realized  _he did love them_. Both of them …

“What is it?” Honoria read his discomfort and she might have pressed further, but her eyes darted to the right, catching a glimpse of something over his shoulder as she greeted someone standing behind him. “Oh … Hello? May I help you?”

“I was  _told_  so … I was hoping you might know where I can find …” He was half turned around, at first worried that it might be an emissary of Heaven, but when he heard  _her_ voice, he recognized it  _instantly_. With his human facade still in place, he furrowed his brows deeply as he locked eyes with her and she smiled, pure recognition falling across her lovely face. “… Quintus.”

“ _Tasa_.”

* * *

 

“Finally.”

His amber eyes watched from a close vantage point. He was never the most patient angel, but he sat and remained so now. Eventually, he saw the boy approach the house as he  _knew_  he would. Raphael had scoffed at him when he said the boy would go to them for help. His brother had said something about ‘ _Quintus_   ** _never_**   _asking for help_ ’ or it being out of character because he ‘ _wouldn’t involve them_ ’, but Gabriel had a hunch anyways and now he watched, silently spying on them.

“I knew it. Now who’s laughing, Raphael? Huh?” He spoke to himself, quite pleased.

He could have come forward and arrested him now, as there was no where the boy could hide. Even if he tried to run, Gabriel was faster  _and stronger_ , but he held his position. He had an impressive amount of respect for  _Honoria_  as well as  _Sempronius_ , and he would not drag their son away in front of their eyes.

No. He would not do that to them. No parent should watch  _that_.

And so he waited for the boy to leave instead and that is when the slender, dark-haired woman arrived.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He knew who she was. He had learned  _all about_  the boy’s life during the trial.

_“Oh shit … This is gonna be good …”_

* * *

 

**[Dubai - Armand Amar](https://open.spotify.com/track/4kghCmNAEgcbUlK2f5EzJc) **

She wasn’t as strong as him and she wasn’t as tough, but he couldn’t seem to hit her, not that he really wanted to. Even if he went at her full strength, she was moving like the wheel moved … like  _Lilith_  could move. He was still holding back, but some part of him knew it didn’t matter, because eventually, her  _lack_  of endurance would be her  _downfall_.

Each time their staffs connected, it sent shockwaves rippling through the stale factory air and though he could hold his ground, it would thrust her back. Her tiny body would require at least one step backwards to steady herself. He knew he could go at this for much longer than she, but he felt unease over the situation as he knew she wasn’t foolish. He  _knew_  that Lucifer wouldn’t be that foolish either.

Fighting him hand to hand couldn’t have been their only plan …

When she opened herself up for a strike, there was no hesitation on his part and he swung brutally hard, connecting the staff into her side and her body tumbled away from him, rolling across the wet concrete floor. As she slid to a rest, she remained still for a moment before she brought her head up to lock eyes with him.

He watched her come up to her knees and he sighed. “We can still talk about this, little one.” He tried one last time to request her surrender but bumps fluttered across the skin of his arm as the tiniest of grins spread across her face.

##  ****Uh oh … that grin …** **

This was when he smelled the blood. It was dripping from her left hand and he tilted his head to the right and then to the left as she brought her clenched fist to her chest. When did she …  _cut herself_? He didn’t … why would she … ?

##  ****_Wait …_ ** **

“I really think we’re beyond  _talking_.” She opened her hand and slammed her palm down onto the ground. Onto the  _fresh_  brown paint line …

A fraction of an second of pause, Michael’s eyes darted from left and right as he realized there was paint all around him, but it wasn’t chaotic or  _random_  as he assumed. The smell … it was  _fresh_.

##  ****_Distracted …_ ** **

He was standing in the middle of a massive glyph. Some of the marks were cleverly hidden under boxes and … equipment and …  _ah crap_  …

His body was so very heavy and it was getting worse as the weight of the entire world began to push down on him savagely.

##  ****_Heavy …_ ** **

His feet … he couldn’t  _lift_  them …

His knees … he couldn’t … collapsing down, he lunged forward, his palms hitting the ground, stuck to it.

From this vantage point he could see  _more_  of the symbol …  _oh fuck_  …

_So … very … heavy …_

“What’s wrong, Governor?” She stood. He couldn’t turn his head to  _see_  the smile that was obviously across her face, but he could  _hear_  the amusement in her voice. His eyes traced the fresh spray paint. He could only see a fraction of the curve, but he understood what it was. He recognized it. “Can’t stand?”

It was the Enochian symbol for  ** _Encumbrance_** , or more directly translated,  _pressure_. It was the power of  _Gravity_.

The weight of the entire world pressing down on him. Desperate to maintain control, he reached out with the power of creation to pull the staff into his armour, but it was too late and he collapsed even further as the weapon slipped from his grip.

He watched in silent horror as it hit the ground and rolled away. His eyes trailed the movement and he saw Barqan, bound and gagged behind some boxes, leaning against the far back wall. The Black Djinn returned his gaze and shook his head pitifully.

_Shit._

**_Clever pair, aren’t they?_ **

****

* * *

****

**_Awkward_**  was not the right word to define the unfolding situation. That word lacked the proper  _intensity_.

All four sat around the quaint patio table and there was a painful silence as seconds turned into minutes and Quintus had no idea what to say, unable to mask his nervousness. He really needed to be going, but he  _knew_  he afforded this woman,  _his one-time wife_ , some respect and at the very least,  _some_  words.

Eventually it was Sempronius who spoke first, addressing the beautiful dark-haired lady. “Quintus never mentioned a wife.” He couldn’t tell if Sempronius’ tone was condescending or annoyed, or if he just didn’t care at all, but either way, Honoria shot him a perturbed look.  _His father_  definitely didn’t mince words, did he? “What?” He looked at his own wife, feigning ignorance. “ _Quintus likes his secrets._ ”

Hmm … definitely annoyance then. Definitely directed towards Quintus also. This was far more passive aggressive than he was used to from Sempronius. It was clear that whatever had driven him from helping Abraham was still bothering him now.

“So …” Honoria attempted to be more welcoming, but her words lingered. “How long were you two married?”

“ _Not long._ ” Quintus answered curtly. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember or that he was intentionally being rude, but he was so conditioned over the years to avoiding speaking of  _his family_.  _His_? No. That was no longer true, was it? Amenzu’s family.

Tasa smiled, further recognition spreading across her face as she accepted his usual coldness with a grain of salt. He  _looked_  human right now, but she could easily read that he was  _still_  Quintus under the facade. “ _Six years._ ”

“Hmmm. Well, six years is a  _long time_.” Sempronius said. “Much longer than  _we_  had … at least on Earth that is.” Honoria shot him another exasperated look and he shrugged. “What?”

“And you did not visit  _your wife_  when you arrived, Quintus?” Honoria questioned him next. It seemed Sempronius would not be the only one on the receiving end of her flash judgement and Quintus gulped.

“In fact I did, but …” He fought to hide his festering nerves. “She was with  _her first love_. I did not wish to intrude.” That last part was a  _lie_ , but he really didn’t wish to discuss this in front of  _his parents_  of all people.

“Oh.” Honoria’s eyes grew wide at the news, her eyes shifting down to the table with her own growing nervousness.

“Eh. It’s a quite common occurrence here. Especially when death is so far apart.” Sempronius shrugged off the statement. “I am not with  _my second_  wife either. However, some have made  _sharing_  time work. There is no shame in attempting this.” Was his father seriously suggesting that he …  _share another man’s wife with him?_

“Uh huh.” Honoria cleared her throat. “Some.”

“Well … if all  _three_  parties involved agree with it, I’ve known individuals who have been able to make it work.” Quintus watched their faces carefully.

“ ** _Three_**  parties …” Honoria raised an eyebrow to Sempronius as some kind of  _history_ was laced in their conversation. “Or  ** _four_**   _parties_ , yes? If all things are fairly distri–”

There was a distinct moment of contention as Sempronius’ left eye twitched almost unnoticably and he changed the conversation swiftly “So …  _Tasa, is it?_  What do you do? How do you choose to spend your time here in paradise?”

“Oh …” Her face lit up and she smiled at the question. “I run a  _tea shop_  in the Quarter Street area of Elysium, just down the way from the main  _market_.” Quintus watched her eyes grow wide with happiness as she spoke to him. “You should visit some time again. It is rare that we have such  _celebrities_  in our midst. I mean …” She waved a hand towards his father and then him. “I mean, you  _both_  of course. Sempronius Densus and General Quintus Sertorius … ”

This simple thing pleased her greatly. She had always been  _simple_  and  _kind_. Far too kind. Kind to a detriment in fact and he watched her grow animated over the invitation while she also praised them both and their  _greatness_. He knew neither of them actually appreciated it though. They were both quite put off by unnecessary accolades.

“A tea shop?” Sempronius’ brows knitted with obvious disdain. “Where you …  _serve people_? You spend eternity  _serving_  people?” His father stated plainly. “How …  _quaint_.”

There was a noise from below the table and Sempronius shot up in his seat suddenly as he was kicked from underneath.

“No more or less  _quaint_  than your cottage here, I would assume.” Tasa’s retort was on point and showed more sharp wit than Quintus had ever known her for.

He found himself grinned slightly as Sempronius grunted a sound of displeasure from her counter to his veiled insult. “Hmmmmm.”

Honoria reached out, grabbing her husband’s forearm. “Perhaps we can give them a moment to  _themselves_? I need some help inside. Will you?”

She was standing and Sempronius was following suit without any argument.

“No. No, I really can not stay long …” Quintus wanted desperately for them to stay. He was almost afraid to be alone with  _Tasa_ , but he  _needed_  to get going. Something sharply churned in the pit of his stomach. He  _needed_  to …  _something was happening … somewhere …_

_The timing on all of this was … ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE._

**[Together - The xx](https://open.spotify.com/track/33NysMbc4naLtmQyODcZxo)**  

> _I know to be there_
> 
> _When and where, I’ll be there_
> 
> _You know what’s to be said_
> 
> _We said out loud, we never said_

Turning back, he found her marvelous brown eyes staring into him and he found himself at a loss of words again, only able to gaze back as the sound of her soft voice and songs played across the recesses of his memory. Somehow, that damn  _shell_  was out of his pocket again, and he was toying with it in his hands. He was grateful, however, that it was  _not_  the locket. That would have given the  _exact_  wrong impression he wished to convey at this moment.

“Why did you come here?” He asked.

“Do you …  _wish_  me to go?”

 _Did he?_  He had let her go so many months ago. He had actually let her go that day at the stream, when he had allowed the locket to slip from his hands. But, while he had been afforded that  _closure_ , he had not given her the same opportunity and he  _needed_ to give her that now if she required it from him.

 _Closure_. He shook his head. “No. We should speak.”

“I do remember now. You were  _at the tea house_  that day … ” She said, spinning her cup in her delicate, slender hands. He remembered the feel of those fingers across his skin, touching his bare head while she sang to him so many nights. “I remember you being there that day …  _and with a prophet no less_.” He had missed that smile so much. It had motivated him for so long. It had driven him so fundamentally. “I apologize for not recognizing you.” There was genuine shame in her voice. “If I had known you were here, I  _would_  have come sooner, but I try to keep my head out of the  _politics_  here.”

“It is fine.” He found it difficult to return her warm gaze and instead, he stared at his hands and at the shell as he tapped it on the wooden table top. “I was …  _not myself_  … that day. I was … ”  _Hiding_.

“And you continue to be …” She motioned towards his visage, an innocent grin accompanying her words. “ ** _Not yourself_**?”

“Ah …  _this_.” He pointed to his face and hesitated,  _almost_  appreciating the way that she looked at him now, before he dropped the facade. Though she tried to hide it, he could see the micro tenses in her face as his natural dhampir form stared back at her. Even now, even after all this time, there was still a hint of  _fear_  that his appearance invoked within her.

“You don’t need to change back. It …  _It suits you_.” She reached for his hand and he surprisingly allowed her to grip it as she assured him it was  _alright_  to  _be human_. It was  _alright_  to  _hide_  himself. It was  _alright_  to change.

“No. It does not … What I look like on the outside doesn’t change who I am within.” There was discomfort in this for him. He could see from her expression that she would have preferred him to remain human, but he had already accepted who he was as the creature he  _wanted_  to be. He was free to no longer  _hate_  himself. “ ** _This suits me_**.  ** _This is who I am and this is who I wish to be_**. The mask was simply a necessity due to …”

 _Being a fugitive_.

The words lingered on his tongue and he considered telling her. But why?  _No_. He would  _not_  place that responsibility on  _her_. There was no reason to … she wasn’t  _his_ and he was no longer  _hers_. This interaction just reinforced it all to him.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to imply–”

“Yes.  ** _It was._** ” He said with calm firmness. There was no anger in these words though, just simple honestly. “But it matters  _not_  … not anymore.”

“Does it not?” Her face contorted with concern. He was older now yes, but she still knew how to read him. Some of the most fundamental parts of his personality would  _never_  change and she understood his discomfort. He was being  _curt_  with her. He often had been in their formative years, but not in the latter ones. In the latter ones, they had become quite intimate with each other. He was a child back then, but in all fairness, was her soul not the same age as his now?

But this wasn’t helpful. He  _needed_  to put her at ease. It was not  _her fault_  all of this occurred. “I apologize I said nothing to you that day, but you were there … with …” Why did the man’s name catch in his throat? Was he jealous? No, he actually wasn’t at  _all_. “Amenzu. You were  _happy_. I wished you to remain so.”

“Yes.” Discomfort. He wondered about the first conversation Sempronius had with Honoria once he joined her here. It was likely  _just_  as awkward. “I did  _not_  wait for you, Quintus … because I did not think you would …” She pulled back her gentle touch on his hand. “I did not think you would  _ever_  come to Heaven.”

That was a fair statement. He had always assumed he would go to  _Hell_. That is where demons belong, is it not?

“Because of my past?” He watched her face fall with sadness. “The  _military_  service that I–”

“I  _visited_  you, Quintus. In the beginning, when I first came here … I worried about you and I visited you.” Interrupting him, she confessed softly. “I visited you  _many_  times and … I …” She hesitated and he could  _feel_  the raw emotion leaking into her lovely melodic voice “ _What I saw terrified me_. What I witnessed …  _from you_  …” Her eyes darted from his and he understood the underlying  _fear_  better now. “That was not  _the man_  that I married …  _That was not the man_  that freed me …” 

> From [A Savage Inconvenience, Interlude 3: The Monotony of Immortality](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/19604482)
> 
> _This was a dark time of several hundred years over which he was now remorseful. It had been centuries filled with blood, rage, and satisfaction. He had feasted on all types, all ages, and all things - savagely and ruthlessly, with and without consent. He had tried to prove to himself that he was more strigoi than human and he had drowned his anguish in the blood of innocents and cretins, tyrants and saints. Quintus knew he was not a good man by any means._

“I saw …” Her confession continued. “I saw you burn Rome. I saw you  _feast_  …  _kill_  … I saw …”

 _Oh gods. She had been watching him that night?_  He bit back his shame. He bit back his guilt. He  _nearly_  allowed himself to feel it, but that fleeting emotion faded quickly.

“I saw you as a …”

“A monster?” He took her hand across the table and gripped it.  _He was not a_   ** _good_** _man_. He had tried to be when he was with her and she had made him feel like it was  _possible_ , but … that was  _not_  who he was. She misunderstood that  _the man_  she remembered was actually  _the facade_.

Should he even attempt to excuse himself or his actions? What happened was over a millenia ago, when the loss of his family had sent him down a dark path and he had spent  _hundreds_  of years as …  _a monster?_  Was he a  _monster_? How did one even define  _monster_?

Regardless, if he claimed his actions were because of  _their_  loss, how could that possibly make her feel? Wouldn’t that just be  _deflecting_  blame onto her? But really, should he bother to  _explain_  himself?

_No._

He had no time for this nor did he have need for the emotions this might invoke. That time in his life, with her and Sura, was over and he realized now, looking into her eyes, how useful it had been at the time, but how utterly pointless it was for him now.

“Forgive me.” Her hand found his again. “ _I judged you._ ”

 _Yes_  and he had no doubts that he deserved her judgement, but he simply had no time for it now, nor did he have  _any desire_  for it. “You have every right. I have done  _terrible_ things.”

“I did not think I would  _ever_  see you again … especially not  _here_  …” She took a deep breath. “Not in  _Heaven_ , of all places. After what I saw, I was certain you would go … ”

“To the pit.” He finished her sentence. “As  ** _all_**  demons  ** _should_**?” He saw  _her_  guilt. Though he was now quite immune to feeling it, she obviously was not and he gripped her hand tightly, giving her a warm smile. “Unfortunately … it turns out … I am  _not_  a demon at all nor am I  _monster_.”

“No.” She admitted, gripping him more tightly. “As I’ve been told …  _you are in fact divine … an Angel_  …”

Wait … did this  _excuse_  his actions? Now that he wasn’t a demon? Quintus found himself pulling back slightly. Was he disappointed in her?  _No. Absolutely not._  Did she think he was disappointed in her?  _Likely._

Finally, his parents returned.

_Thank the gods._

Sempronius laid a tray full of even more  _human_  food down before them and stared into Quintus’ eyes, reading the hidden desperation for reprieve. It seemed as if Honoria either picked up on Sempronius’ masked queue, or she read Quintus himself, but she took note immediately.

_How was it that they already knew him so very well?_

“Tasa.” His mother smiled. “Would you help me? There’s another tray.”

“Of course.” The dark-haired woman was up in an instant, seemingly jumping at the opportunity to flee Quintus’ presence as much as he wished to be free of hers.

 _Damnation_.

Sempronius waited until they were inside before he spoke. “She’s very …” He thought about his words very carefully. Honoria clearly gave him a lecture while they were in the house. “…  _lovely_.”

“I was very young.” Quintus stated in a defensive tone.

“ _Obviously_.” Sempronius shrugged.

“Indeed.”

“Our conversation was  _difficult_  as well. But it really is  _best_  if you have time alone to sort through the … discomfort.”

“No. It does not matter …” Quintus watched through the window, seeing his mother laugh and Tasa join her in shared amusement. They would have gotten along quite well it seemed, but it really mattered not, as he kept telling himself. He was  _certain_  Honoria would much prefer the company of someone who  _could_  best her in a fight.

“Time  _can_  be shared.” Sempronius offered again. “It  _can_  be done.”

“Would you have shared  _Honoria_  then?” Quintus had easily read the conversation earlier and he knew  _exactly_  whom Sempronius would have been  _sharing_  his love with and his father glared at him with fire. “It does not matter. She is  _happy_.” Something slipped passed Quintus’ normally closed emotional gates and he saw Sempronius grin ever so slightly, tilting his head to the right.

“Ahhh. I see.” A single nod. “You  _love_  another.”

The statement was simple and he looked up from the shell, nearly shocked at the observation. A moment of quietness and he nodded. He was  _not_  this easy to read, was he? “Yes.”

“Is this …” Something seemed to shift in his father’s mind and the grin faded. “This is the one that Abraham  ** _fears_**  so much?”

 _Fears?_  Did Abraham  _fear_  his poet? Yes  _and_  no. The professor definitely  _feared_  what her  _existence_  might bring. She was, after all,  _The Feared_  but he saw a suspicious twinkle behind Sempronius’ eyes.  _Was this word chosen with great purpose?_  Quintus looked down at the object in his hands as he fiddled it with growing nervousness. “I require your help, Sempronius. You and  _Honoria_.”  _Her_  help might be more important than Sempronius’ himself.

“Help with what? If you wish our help, then you need to  _tell_  us what is happening, son.” Sempronius firmly stated.  _Son …_  “We cannot help you with  _anything_  if you will not trust us.”

Silence. Quintus looked around the surrounding area before returning to the nervous act of fiddling with the shell. Much like a similar nervous tick of Dawn rubbing her wrist annoying him, Sempronius had enough and held his hand out for the object. Quintus relinquished it immediately.

“[Bolinus brandaris](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bolinus_brandaris).” Sempronius tapped into his vast knowledge and named the species of the snail. “Known to exist through Cyprus, Spain, and Italy. It was widely used as a rich and vibrant  _dye_. In Biblical Hebrew, it is known as  _argaman_.”

 _Argaman?_  He watched his father spin the spiny shell in his hands and he asked suddenly. “What do you know of the  ** _Order of the Argaman Sun_**?”

“ _Order_  of?” His father shrugged. “I have heard of no such thing.”  _Damn_. “Argaman is also an Israeli settlement in the Jordan Valley?” He offered.

 _No. That wasn’t helpful. That wasn’t it._  Quintus reached out and took the container of sugar, dumping it on the table as he traced the symbol he had seen on Ancharia’s scarf into the granules. “Do you know what language this is?”

Sempronius cocked his head inquisitively to the right with a grin. “That’s  _Akkadian_ , Quintus.”

He looked down at the symbol. “No it isn’t.” He was somewhat familiar with Akkadian. He spoke a good portion of it, but he wasn’t overly familiar with its script. Nevertheless, it was not it. “It is–”

“It’s inverted.” Sempronius wiped the symbol clear and re-drew it, inverting it.  _Damn_. He was  _right_. The scarf was draped over the chair … backwards. How had he missed that? “What does it say?”

“ಇಂಡಿಗೊ ಸನ್” He spoke the translation in Akkadian and Quintus shifted uncomfortably. The second word, he was assuming would be  _Sun_ , as Ancharia had spoken it as such, but it was not  _Sun_  at all, but  _Son_. He stared at the shell again.

“You said dye? What color?”

“ _Indigo_ , or what’s most commonly known as …  _Tyrian Purple_.”

“Order of the …” Quintus looked up, his brows furrowing deeply. “Order of the  ** _Purple … Son_**?”

“ ** _Purple Son_**? Who is …” The words trailed off and Sempronius  _knew_. “Quintus … what is this Order? What does this mean to you?”

“I  _must_  go now …” Quintus stood immediately, the vigor of his action knocking the chair away from him and to the ground. “I must go  _now_. I should not have come here. This is not something I should involve you in. Forgive me.”

He had only taken a few steps when Honoria’s voice called to him from behind. They had returned. “Wait … are you leaving?!? Without saying goodbye? Good lord. We just put together this–”

“No please. It is not necessary.” Quintus thrust a hand out, attempting to halt her offer. “I really can not stay any longer. I  _must_  be going …”

“Oh …” Tasa nervously shifted. “I am so sorry. I have just  _shown_  up, without invitation. I can easily come back another time … or … perhaps, you might come and find me? I have not mentioned your being here to Sura yet, I am sure that she would be most–”

“No.  _You misunderstand_. I apologize so much for this abruptness,  _Tasa_. I should have found you earlier. I should have … I owe you so much more than this  _rushed_  good-bye.” Quintus confessed as he bowed his head in shame. “ _I must be going but I will_ ** _not_**   _be coming back …_ ”

“What are you talking about?” Sempronius shook his head. “Where are you  _going_?”

“To  _Earth_  …”

 

* * *

 

Every second that passed, his body compressed down with more pressure and eventually he began to hear his own bones snapping, one by one, over and over again. He had experienced worse pain and he clenched his jaw, fighting his desire to cry out. _No_. He would not give that  _little shit_  the satisfaction of hearing his pain.

Once his body was nothing more than a formless mess of flesh and crushed bone on the ground, he heard her rub a portion of the glyph away with her boot and the gravity alleviated. Relief spread across his body and it slowly began the process of reforming. She was already upon him, using her staff to flip him over so he could see into her overly pleased face.

He wasn’t sure what her next plan might be, but as she reached down, he realized. She pulled the ring from his finger and slid it into her own. He was reminded of that time in her bedroom when she had done the same as a child. She was the only one in existence that had ever worn it other than him.

Michael’s bones began to  _snap_  loudly back into form, sending pangs of agony rippling through his body as it did so. He tried to rush the process along, but his body was ravaged.

Lucifer was bending down to him. He expected his little brother’s tone to be  _smug_ , but instead there was a deep sadness in it. He wasn’t happy to see Michael this way and in this moment, Michael realized how much he still  _missed_  the light bringer.

 

> “I’m sorry, Mike. You know you’ll always be my favorite, but …  ** _this is necessary_**.”

If Michael’s jaw was functioning, he would have tried to say  _something_  snarky, but … his eyes shifted quickly to the left as he saw Dawn picking something up. Lucifer followed his eyes and the  _Light Bringer_  sprang to his feet as quickly as he could.

 

> “Aurora no! Don’t touch the staff! YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO CONTROL THAT YET–”

But it was already far too late. She had already picked up the  _The Traveller’s Staff_  and there was a crack of thunder as the staff locked into place, shifting into her divinity like a key and reading from her subconscious the place where she desperately had wanted to go for the last year. Reading from her subconscious, the person her undisciplined mind was so  _desperate_  to find.

_And then she was gone …_

 

> _“FUUUUUUUUUCK.”_

* * *

_Timing_.

Somewhere in Heaven, Sandalphon sighed as she took another drink of her coffee. Setting the book down on the table, she placed her head into her hands and she  _wept_.

_“I’m so very sorry.”_

It’s all about  _timing_.


	71. 9.5 - Timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author Disclaimer:**  
> 
> I won’t lie. This part of the story has been plaguing me since its inception and I know it will anger some people. Quite a bit actually. And no … this is **NOT** just angsty to be angsty. But I’m going to assume that anyone reading this story, those who have stuck with me so far, aren’t just here for **_fluf_** f.
> 
> I debated it at length with a friend (you know who you are) who expressed incredible distaste for this part of the story, but I simply cannot back out now. This was already foreshadowed in Part 1, so I cannot press the brakes on it now. When that specific foreshadowing will be made apparent, I promise it will be an incredibly satisfying punch to the gut (in a good way, I promise).
> 
> There are 3-4 chapters left (6 or so parts per chapter), my lovelies. 
> 
>  **Let’s pull this band-aid off already.**  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**[Unworthy - Vancouver Sleep Clinic](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4S1vAbvVqR5CV0u4EJ5Xe1&t=Y2IyMzRmYzNjZTI4ZDc5MWM4NmUxMTI3NDc1YjFlNmZmYTUwZjg2NyxMeG1JeWZ2bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166859695823%2Fchapter-95-timing&m=1)**  

> _It’s like I’m running away from me_
> 
> _It’s like I’ve taken the puzzle in me_
> 
> _And left it scrambled for all to see_
> 
> _It’s like I’m fighting behind these walls_
> 
> _And hiding through metaphors_
> 
> _This is real, these are flaws_

“Earth?  _Earth?_   ** _Earth!?_** ” Sempronius wasn’t pleased, his voice uncharacteristically rich with raw emotion. Normally so collected, his patience was clearly gone as he stood up. Any other man would have been intimidated by the action, but Quintus was not. “Are you …  ** _are you mad_**?”

“Quite the opposite,  _in fact_.” Quintus argued, his own tone firmer than usual in reaction to his father’s condescension.

“Is this what you wish our help with?” Sempronius took a step forward and Honoria could read her husband’s mannerisms. Moving to stop his further advantanced towards their son, she placed a hand on his arm. It was both a  _warning_  and a  _plea_  as they were both well aware of her ability to  _halt_  him. “To trade  _paradise_  for  ** _purgatory_**?!”

“I’ve no time for  _this_  squabble right now.” Quintus turned to leave again, pulling out something he had hidden within his long coat and sliding it down into the sheath on his back, where all could see it for what it was.

“Is that …  _That is the Celestial Blade?!_ ” Now his father was  _really_  angry and Honoria gripped him tighter. “How … Why do you have that?! What on Earth do you plan on doing with  _that!?_ ”

Was he chastising him?!  _HIM_!? What right did he think he had to talk to him this way? Him!?

“I  _took_  it … from  _Michael_.” Quintus grinned devilishly with billowing pride. “He did not part with it easily, I assure you.”

“Really? How did you manage–” Honoria began to question this claim, seemingly impressed by it, but Sempronius interrupted swiftly.

“You assaulted the  _Governor_?!?”

“Do not talk to me like I am a  _child!_ ” This man was  _only_  16 years older than him! Why was this affecting him so much? Who did this man think he was?! Quintus took a deep breath as he remembered exactly who he was. Good gods, Quintus. Keep it together. “Besides, it was a very well deserved punishment.” Quintus’ lip curled with growing satisfaction. “He is  _not_  the angel you  _all_  assume him to be.”

“Boys!”  Honoria attempted to be heard.  “Please!”

“ _Do you even realize what you have done?!_ ” Sempronius asked, the hidden worry finally leaking out of his voice. “ _What the consequences of this action might be?!”_

“Yes.” Quintus admitted. “I do.”

“They will imprison you.” Sempronius said, his brows furrowing. “They will take you away from …”

The sentence trailed off, but he knew the word that  _his father_  nearly spoke.  _Us_. He should not have come here … to them. He should not have requested their help. “I am sorry, but I will be the  _Master of my own Fate_. Do not presume to  _know_  me or understand my motivations.”

Tensions were rising and the two men stared at each other with fire before a soft, melodic voice cut into the family argument. “But I do …  _I_   ** _do_**   _know him_  … ”

His fury had distracted him from her approach and she was smiling, watching him intently, though her words were directed at  _his parents_. “And I know that  _he_  will do what  _he_  wishes. Wrong  _or_  right. Good  _or_  bad. And regardless of what  _anyone_  else might command …” 

> Her hand was on his arm and he took a deep breath as she stepped before him, diffusing the situation and all of his anger with only words.

“Whatever he has done, I am sure it has been with proper cause. And as I had to learn  _long ago_ , if you stand in his way, you only push him away.”

“ _Tasa_  … I … ” 

> Her right hand was now on his chest and his hand joined it, pressing down and holding it against his sternum, against his heartbeat.

“Go and do whatever you obviously feel you  _must_ , General. We both know that no one  _here_  can talk you out of it.” 

> Her dark eyes eyes stared up into his and he knew this would be  _their farewell_.

“And …  _whoever_  it is that you are obviously going towards …” Her smile widened and his brows furrowed at her revelation.  _Yes_. She  _did_  know him, didn’t she? She could  _read_  him still. Perhaps he had not changed as much as he had assumed. “I hope whoever they are,  _they_  afford you better understanding and forgiveness than I have …”

“ _Thank you._ ”

Her left hand was now on his cheek and he pushed against it with affection, closing his eyes tightly as he bent his forehead to touch hers.

“ _Goodbye, Tasa._ ”

##  ****Gratitude**.**  

> _Unknowingly, she gave him strength and drive for millenia._

##  ****Release**.**  

> _There was no need for either one to feel guilt any longer._

##  ****Closure**.**  

> _Of course there was still love between them and there_   ** _always_**   _would be, but it was time to let it go._

**_And most importantly …_ **

##  ****Freedom**.**  

> _Because his heart belonged to someone else … and it_   ** _always_**   _had._

He heard a deep breath before the wind blew  _her_  smell into his nostrils and Quintus’ eyes flew open at once, his head turning instantly in the direction of the breeze. His mouth fell agape as those vibrant green eyes stared back at him.

_Lula … ?_

* * *

She was swept away in a furious blanket of frigid smoke. Everything changed and she felt herself melt apart and then sharply reform in a blinding  _white_  light.

_What the fuck just … happened? Where the fuck was she?_

The shock of the travel was unlike anything she had ever experienced and it might have affected her further, but the scene before her eyes cruelly shifted her perspective back into painful and agonizing focus.

It was  ** _Quintus_**.

He was right in front of her … ten feet away. He stood, his forehead  _lovingly_  pressed against someone else’s. His hand pressing  _hers_  against his chest. Her hand against his cheek. His eyes were closed.

Her head swam for a moment. Taking a breath seemed impossible. Dawn thought she might collapse. She was sure her knees were about to give out as a wave of nausea hit her squarely in the stomach.

_Oh …_

**_Oh god …_ **

##  **Oh … god …**

She recognized the woman instantly. That same beautiful and flawless  _dark-haired woman_  from his locket and she forced herself to take a deep breath in. This was when he looked up and finally saw  _her_. He looked up with …  _shock_.

“ _Lib … ellula_  … ?” His voice was …  _trembling_. Turning to glance upon  _his wife_ , he dropped the woman’s hand and took a deep step away, shaking his head back and forth as he looked back to  _her_. “Wait, wait … it is not what–”

Everything happened so quickly in that moment. He looked at her, reached a hand out to her, stuttered, and took a step forward to her before a masculine voice sounded from behind and all present, including the strangely familiar couple standing behind them, turned in unison to the  _massive man_  she recognized from EL’s memory, who was now standing at the sidewall of the small cottage.

 _Her uncle … Gabriel_. He was staring at her and she could  _see_  recognition painted across his archangel face. “ _Who the fuck are … what the fu_  … ”

She was staring at  _his wife_  again and the nausea worsened as she wished to be  _anywhere_  other than  _here_  …

_Anywhere other than with Quintus …_

* * *

##  ****_Panic_**.**

She’s here ..  _she’s here_. She came to him. Do something, Quintus! SAY SOMETHING!

The look on her face …  _no … no … NO._  She was staring at  _Tasa_.

_Wait no! This was not … NO!_

_No no no no no no no no._

He took a massive step back from  _Tasa_.

“Wait, wait … it is not what–”

“ _What the fuck … Who the fuck are … what the …_  ” Gabriel?! He was here. It was too late. He was  _watching_?! He had  _already_  seen her …  _Oh god no. No no no no no no no. Oh no._

##  **Gods no.**

_They_  needed to  _run_  …  _She_  needed to … Gabriel would destroy …

_No no no no no no no no._

“No …” Quintus turned back to Dawn and stepped forward again as her green-eyes shifted back to  _Tasa_. Not to him, but to  _Tasa_. What did she think … Oh gods,  ** _no_**! “Wait, no, no, no … It is not what it–”

_Oh gods …_

The staff flickered and she was  _gone_.

Quintus felt his heart leapt into his throat and he turned back to face the angel, expecting some kind of confrontation but Gabriel staggered forward, seeming to be in an almost drunk fugue state. The angel’s face contorted in agony and he shook his head, muttering to himself lowly as he stumbled. “ _That … liar … Traitor_  … ”

“Gabriel, stop … please … You don’t understand. It is not–” Quintus plead, pushing Tasa behind him as the angel approached them, but it wasn’t actually the dhampir he was heading towards and the massive angel flashed away in a blur of speed down the road.

The  _timing_  of it all …  _oh gods._

*The timing … *

_Faex … FAEX!!!_

_Panic_  set in again as he remembered the look on  _his poet’s_  face and something triggered in his mind. Turning to his ex-wife, gripping her arm, he asked firmly. “You said someone  _told_  you I would be here?  _Who was it_?  _When_?”

“I didn’t know her … she …” Tasa said, clutching her clothing at her chest in confusion. “A woman came to my shop today … She said you would be here … ”

“Woman?” His desperation was clear. “What did she look like?”

“Brown hair. Slender. Pretty.  _Very tall_.”

He shook her arm. “Her eyes, Tasa.  _What color were her eyes_!?”

“Blue.” Quintus growled.  _No._  “The deepest blue I have ever seen …”

“ _That fucking wheel_.  ** _Cane_**.” His vulgar anger reared its ugly head. “Bitch …  _lying bitch_ …”

His hands trembled with anger and he clenched them in an attempt to calm himself, but it only fueled his growing agitation. He had wasted enough time here and he was tired of these games. Without further word, he followed down the road as fast as his divinity would allow him, leaving them all behind in confusion.

 

* * *

 

She was only gone for seconds and EL watched her come back to the very spot that the staff had taken her. He stepped forward to demand where she had gone, but he already knew the answer to that question as she fell to her knees before him.

Many things danced across his mind during her short absence, but the most pressing thing was …  _everything was about to be ruined_. That is, until he saw the look on her face when she re-appeared right in front of him. 

> “Aurora …  _what is it_?” He finally prodded. “What happened? Where did you–”

“I … I think it was  _Heaven_.” She swallowed hard, unable to look up from the ground. “He’s in  _Heaven_  … and …” Her eyes filled with tears as she finally found the strength to match EL’s gaze. “He’s …  _happy_.”

She fell forward, the staff tumbling from her as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor before her.

* * *

 

The woman left. Sempronius sent her away rather rudely, refusing to offer any explanation as he feigned ignorance, but Honoria knew him better than that.

“ _Who was that?_ ” She watched him slip into his chair, staring blankly at the table as he came to terms with what they had just witnessed. He swallowed hard and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Did Quintus just say  _The Wheel? Yes. He did._

Dear lord. What had his son gotten himself involved in? He realized as he thought the question how silly it was. Quintus had been  _born_  into this trouble, hadn’t he?

“Sempronius?!” His wife  _demanded_  answers from her silent husband. “Do not ignore me!”

“That was …” It was painfully obvious who  _and_  what that was, but of course Honoria wouldn’t know. He considered keeping her in the dark, but as they locked eyes, he realized that wouldn’t be possible at all.

He replayed the memory again and again. The woman was wielding the staff. Only a Hayyoth can power the staff. And her visage … Abraham’s reaction was perfectly reasonable now, in every sense.  _She was the_   ** _Demiarch_**. “That was …  ** _PERIAZODA CASARMA CONISA HOXMARCH_**.” Honoria answered his fluent Enochian with an exasperated look and he rolled his eyes, translating for her. “ ** _She is the Feared …_** ”

“The Feared?” She wasn’t following. “What does that even mean?”

He looked up at her, an expression on his face that she was not used to seeing. An expression of utter concern and …  _fear_. “It means a  _war_  is coming.”

He said  _coming_ , but in the very pit of his stomach, he understood the war was clearly  _already_  here.

 

* * *

  

> “Focus please.” EL commanded and she could feel him prodding at her mind, looking for answers. “Aurora, use  _your words_.”

She couldn’t. She was obviously unable to speak and as she fell back onto her butt, the tears amassing in her eyes overflowed down her cheeks and she let go, allowing him to  _see_  what she had witnessed. His eyes grew wide, but not at seeing Quintus embracing his wife. EL’s face fell when he saw his brother. 

> “ _Gabriel_?  ** _Gabriel_**  saw you?”

Distracted. The sound of the metal scraping across the ground caught his attention and he turned to see Michael’s broken hand touch the staff, having dragged his still-healing body across the concrete, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

> “Aurora! Michael! MICHAEL!”

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t listening to him. She had pulled her knees tightly to her chest, burrowing her face into the darkness as she rocked slowly back and forth.

_Shit. And Michael was gone. Fuck._

Oh well. It didn’t matter at all. He had gotten exactly what he came here for and he stood, surveying the scene. They would need to go because Michael would be back. There was no question and this  _trick_  wouldn’t work twice. He needed to get her to move, but first, he needed to let it sink in fully.

He, himself, had started to doubt the plan, but after what he had just seen, he was both  _angry_  and  _pleased_  that the dhampir shit had forgotten  _her_  in favor of that  _slave woman_. He was actually worried about the gladiator’s resolve and he hadn’t decided how he would handle the  _promise_  he had made to her about him, but now it didn’t matter. Mikey was right. That piece of shit didn’t deserve her anyways.

Everything couldn’t have been more  _perfect_.

The timing of it all.

EL grinned marvelously.

* * *

**[Mind Heist - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3P5OnuqwVhZMEMoaZa9GuE&t=ZmI5NGQzNjFlOGMzYzk0NDc2OGU0MWFjODk1MGFlZDkwYzYwYmYwMSxMeG1JeWZ2bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166859695823%2Fchapter-95-timing&m=1)**  

Quintus had  _never_  seen an army like the one before him now. Crouching under the large rock, peering at the scene from the wall of a surrounding mountain, he stared at the miles of creatures and his resolve waned, but only for an  _instant_.

“Menacing, aren’t they?” She spoke from behind him and relief melted over his form. “But they aren’t  _all that_ , actually. I’ve defeated  _tougher_.” He smirked.

Her face was even with his now, staring from the overlook alongside him, but he didn’t tear his gaze from the horde. “How did you find me? I thought I was  _hidden_  from–” If Ozryel could find him this easily, then others might be able to as well.

“ _Oh my Dearest One_.” She was smiling. “We’ve shared our own nexus for  _millennia_. This was  _obviously_  the vantage point you would chose. I’ve actually been waiting for  _you_  here.”

On any other day, at any other time, her disclosing that his actions were easily to discern would have annoyed him, but right now, it put him at ease. “It is …  _impossible_.” There were dragons and phoenixes and chimera and …  _everything he could imagine_  and some things he had  _never_  seen before. Shapeshifters, gryphons, sphinxes … “I have fought difficult odds, but–”

“Impossible?” She chortled. “You realize  _very_  few things are  _actually_  impossible, my brave boy and this is  _not_  one of those.”

“But … the  _army_  is–”

“Oh, I am not worried about the army. The  _real_  question is … where are my two brothers?”

“Gabriel …” His voice trailed slightly as he finally locked eyes with her. “ _He knows_.”

Ozryel cocked her head to the right as he felt her tug at  _his mind_ , asking for permission to enter it and he allowed her, feeling her pull something free. The memory of the scene in its entirely. “ _Well shit_. She saw that? You really fucked that one up, haven’t you?” She didn’t say it with her normally amused voice. She said it with absolutely seriousness and he glared at her.  He did  _not_  need to be reminded of this fact.

“It seems so.”

“Well … At least that means that Gabriel is busy then. He is going for  _Michael_  now. I am  _far_  more worried about Raphael though. He’s being  _sneaky_  somewhere.” She squinted at the valley before she read something concerning from his mind. “What else, Quintus? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I believe this has  _all_  been arranged by  _your father_.”

“Oh, absolutely. Undoubtedly.” Her acceptance of this was immediate and it shocked him somewhat. This was the  _exact opposite_  of Michael’s reaction, but she only smiled. “But … how do  _you_  know, clever boy?”

She tugged at his mind again and he let her in freely again, feeling her scrape across the memories of Sandalphon and taking in their full conversation. There was a moment of quiet reflection and Ozryel began to beam with pride. “Sneaky little wheelie, isn’t she? I  _always_  liked her. She was always good for  _him_.”

“Liked her?” Quintus coughed. “She has controlled and manipulated and–”

“And it is painfully obvious why now. Have you not deciphered the end game yet?” Ozryel smiled even wider.

“Wait, this  _pleases_  you?”

“It means I was right.” He  _felt_  her sense of incredible relief. “It means I did not  _fall_ without purpose,  _Pale One_. It means …  _father_  did not forsake me …”

“Well … You may enjoy this, but … ” He turned his attention back to the military  _wall_. “I am  _not_  alright with being a  _pawn_.”

“It matters not.” She stood fully and he attempted to grab at her clothing to pull her back down. She was now in  _full_  view of everything below! Was she  _mad_?! “But, we need to get you back to Earth  _A.S.A.P._  My little brother is undoubtedly planting terrible seeds at the moment.”

“Me? Just me? Alone? Wait,  _you are not coming with me_?” He had assumed that she would want to get out of Heaven as much as he did and he would  _need_  her help once there. She still had her shell.

She shook her head. “You’ve  _never_  required my help, Invictus. I doubt you need it now. I  _will_  join you there, but I will need to find  _Michael_  before  _Gabriel_  does.  Regardless of how you feel about him, we will need him.” He looked at the blade now in her hand and he did a double take. Wait … Is that the Celestial Blade?!? “O.k.  Enough chit chat.   _Let’s do this, my little halfling._ ”

He groped at the sheath on his back and found it empty before she began to mound down the mountain side with great leaps, heading towards the closest bridge across the valley. When did she take it from him!? *Good Gods! *He had not even told her about Argaman yet!

“Wait you fool! We need a plan!” He followed with budding desperation. “ _We are only two!_ ”

**_She was COMPLETELY insane!_ **

But, he already knew that, didn’t he?

Why did he keep forgetting this fact?!

 

* * *

 

 **[the deadlock (live) - iamamiwhoami](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F70b7oY46QhN9jKI45bemdQ&t=MjBhMWMyYThhYjBkNDc3MjJkMWVmMmQyODFlNWFkOTMyZTg3N2ZmOCxMeG1JeWZ2bA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166859695823%2Fchapter-95-timing&m=1)**  

> _You and me, we spent our days_
> 
> _Trapped inside our thickening haze_
> 
> _Slowly running out of ways_
> 
> _To reinvent our shrinking maze_

Sempronius knew she was standing in the doorway, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge her. He hated it when she was  _silent and manipulative_  because she was so very good at it. When she wanted something, there was  _no one_  he knew that was better at working out how to achieve that goal … just like her  _son_. Without looking up from his book, he spoke.

“I suppose you need to discuss  _something_.” He said plainly, knowing fully what she wanted to  _discuss … again._

“No.” She retorted just as plainly. “In fact, I don’t. I only wished to let you know I am going.” He heard the motion of her turning and he finally peered up from the novel, pulling his reading glasses down while he did so.

She was no longer in her usual attire. She was now dressed for a fight. She was in pants and a loose fitting shirt and she was carrying a sword, or rather, several swords. There was no telling what other weapons might have been hidden around her body. “And where are you going? This is really none of our business. Do you really wish to anger  _the gods_ , Honoria? We are  _happy_  here. We are  _together_.”

She stopped her exit as she looked back to her reluctant husband. “I am going to stand up for someone I  _believe_  in. You  _used_  to be able to do the same. History remembers it quite well.”

He set the book and his glasses down on the side table, “And what exactly do you hope to accomplish? You will just be locked up beside him.”

“Anything I can.” She stated and his heart ached at the disappointment that shone through her vivid blue eyes. “Besides, you underestimate me. I plan to show them that he was not born from  _one legend …_  But from  _two_.”

Sempronius stood. “We can’t hope to even help him. It is unwinnable. There are too many of them and they are too strong. They are too many. We cannot stand against  _an army_.”

“ ** _Sempronius Densus_**.” She stated it like the solid fact it was. “You … of  _all the people_ to have existed, say  ** _this_**  to me?” Honoria shook her head as she interrupted him succinctly, “You have stood against an  _army_  before, utterly  _alone_. Faced with defeat.”

“And I  _failed_  … I could not protect the Emperor and I cannot protect Quintus … and … I had  _nothing_  to lose before. Now I have  _everything_. I will not risk–”

“I  _know_  you better than that. You did not stand up because you thought you  _might_ succeed. You stood up because you knew it to be the  _right_  thing to do. And regardless of the outcome now, I know you still … I’ve seen the pride in your eyes when you look upon  _him_.  _This_  is no different.” With her last words she was already gone, back through the door in which she stood, off to fight the battle he  _knew_  she would.

Sempronius stared at his sword for only a second. It was leaning conspicuously against the desk. He  _knew_  he had not left it there and he smiled as he grabbed the handle and followed after his wife.

_She was so very good at manipulating any situation she wished … especially him._

_Always …_   ** _him._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 


	72. 9.6 - Timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : I don’t use trigger warnings. They give too much of the story away. You have been warned.

**[All The Things Lost - MS MR](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F62P3dTff68UTyYPqbGpaXs&t=YmYxY2UzYmZhZjFiODBiMTNlYmMzM2QwM2Y0ZWEzZjIzZjhjNDRhNCw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

> _No matter how sweet the salt_
> 
> _We pushed so hard we finally broke_
> 
> _Oh no more apologies need be exchanged_
> 
> _Oh no words could ever help relieve this pain_

The feeling was similar but it was much worse this time. When she had walked in on  _her ex_  and that  _dark-haired_  woman in  _their_  bed that day, it felt  _similar_  but it wasn’t the same.

However, the look on their faces  _were_  very similar:  _Complete shock_.

Her husband had pushed that woman away also and he had scrambled towards her. He pled that it “wasn’t what it looked like” also. She replayed the scene with Quintus in her mind, followed by the scene with  _her ex_ , over and over again. It was on a loop, over and over, solidifying its torment. She gritted her teeth. She had just proclaimed to herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but she was wrong and she did. She cried  _so hard_ that her eyes hurt from the pressure of it.

 _And this hurt so much worse than_   ** _anything_**   _…_

Her hands gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white and she barrelled down the road, no longer paying attention to anything around her. The devil, who sat beside her, had even stopped trying to speak to her. She didn’t imagine he had to. He could  _feel_  what she was  _feeling_ , couldn’t he? She wondered if he was pleased with himself. He had warned her about Quintus and he was right.

At first, she was bombarded with  ** _betrayal_** , but that soon faded. She had no right to feel that way. She had no claim to him, this was painfully obvious now.  _None_. He had set up a mock marriage, but that was just so  _he could pay_  her for that final day, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to be his  _whore_ , but in the end, that’s exactly what he made her.

She was such a fool …  _again._

Next, it was  ** _disgust_**. The same as  _that_  day, but this time it wasn’t disgust in  _him_ , but in  _herself_. Had she  _really_  thought he would still want her? After all this  _time_? After what she had done? Did he know? And  _that woman_  … she was even more beautiful in person than the figure carved into that damned locket. She was  _so much more_  what he deserved. Dawn wondered if she had been prettier, would it have mattered? That woman was  _so perfect_.

She wasn’t good enough …  _again._

Finally, there was  ** _anguish_**. It had taken her months to accept the end of her first marriage and she hoped that would make it easier this time around. That wasn’t true at all and she felt like she was gonna throw up again. She knew better than  _this_. Why did she do this again?

She was alone …  _again_.

 

> “No. You’ve  _never_  been alone.” EL reminded her calmly. “You’ll always have  _me_.”

 

* * *

 

Ozryel ripped through their opponents as if they were butter. Never once striking with the blade of her sword, she beat them down using only the butt of the weapon and her fists. He found it increasingly difficult to keep up and he was  _not_  faring as well as her. There were moments she had to stop and come back for him and this embarrassed him.

As she ripped the dragon’s talon from his chest, he fell forward and she grabbed the beast’s leg, swinging the entire thing as if it was a club into the next creature that barrelled towards them.

“Sorry  ** _Eleleth_**!” She screamed at one of them, he was unsure which, as they tumbled over the side of the bridge together.

She brushed her hands off and offered a hand down to him. He accepted the help and allowed her to pull him to his feet and gazed at the massive army still before them. The bridge was bottle-necked with creatures and that was likely the only reason they still stood. The valley below was filled to the brim and even in the sky above, the winged beasts hovered and threatened to descend. They hadn’t even made a dent and he was actually only slowing her down.

Reading his dismay, she felt his growing sense of uselessness and she smiled at him. “May I?”

“May you what?” He unintentionally recoiled as she raised her hands towards his head and he felt her begin to reach into his closed mind. No. Michael was just in there and he had no wish to experience that pain again.

“Do you really still not  _trust me, Pale One_?”

“Yes, I trust, but … “ He did  _not_  trust and he also  _feared_. “What is your intention? We’ve no time for this.”

“To give you an  _advantage_ , but you have to  _accept_  it. You  _have_  to accept  _me_. There is no pain if you give me  _permission._ ” The next batch of soldiers on the bridge approached and he hesitated no further, attempting to surrender to her as she asked. He still expected there to be pain, but there was something  _smooth_  about it, almost  _natural_.

His mind flooded with  _images_  and  _knowledge_. He winced at the sheer volume of it and her hands were on either side of his temples, gently pressing. “No no. Not everything. Don’t take the  _memories_ ,  _my boy_ , or my experiences might change you. Just take the  _knowledge_  of it. Just the  _skill_.”

 _Yes_. Ok. Just the skill … oh good gods, Ozryel … there was  _a lot_  of skill.

 _Millennia upon millennia of training_  flooded into him. His eyes closed and he refused her memories but took  _some_  of what else she offered. When he opened his eyes next, he gazed upon those who approached and knew their names, each and every one of them, and he knew their strengths and weaknesses. But not only that, he knew his own  _strengths_  better.

“Yes yes.” She said.

Realizing now, he had never needed actual  _skill_  before. When he was among men, his physicality was the only real advantage required for victory so he put little effort into that part of his training. When Uriel had beat him down, he realized the fault in that logic. Everything Uriel had corrected him on that day was  _true_.

_And now … that fault was corrected._

“Very good,  _General_.” She said and turned to face the next onslaught. “Now … Shall we?”

“Indeed.” He grinned. “Let us.”

 

* * *

 

 **[The Way (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5tLvVku5CuJQahuywJHpHn&t=ZWVkYTE4NjQ1NjVmYjM3NWQ3NWU0OGMwMzk3Yjg1ZWQ0NTdlZTY1OSw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

Gabriel was the  _strongest_  … or so it was always assumed.

Gabriel was the  _Messenger_  and in complete control of the Nexus … or so it was always assumed.

And Gabriel was  _petty_  and  _childish_  … or so it was always  _assumed_. Only Raphael knew he was actually the most  _compassionate_  of all his brethren. First  _or_  second. _Young_  or  _old_. His emotions ran so deep and rich and overpowering that at times they were nearly uncontrollable.

It was only  _his Other_  and the  _Creator_  itself that knew Gabriel  _loved_  like none other and as such, he was more perceptive than  _anyone_  fully realized. He wasn’t the rash fool they had always  _assumed_  him to be and he actually preferred it that way. It gave him the edge that he might require some day.

 _Like_   ** _this_**   _day_.

It was  _this_  skill that made him such a formidable fighter. His body was the strongest, yes, but his ability to  _read_  his opponents was what made him ultimately unbeatable. He read their eyes, their motions, their body language, and their hidden intentions. Every single little thing was an open book to him. Every twitch, every breath, and  _every look._

_Every heartbeat._

He knew the Governor had secrets, he just assumed he already  _knew_  them. In the beginning, it was quite clear,  _to him at least_ , that whenever she was present, his golden-haired brother’s muscles would tense ever so slightly. His pupils would dilate and his heartbeat skipped once. As the years went on, Michael grew better at hiding it, but it was already too late. In the end, Gabriel didn’t care, but he still  _knew_.

While he had no desire for such attachments, as he found his emotions uncontrollable when he did, he didn’t care that his brother needed them. In fact, he understood Michael  _needed something_  after the loss of Ozryel and she came at a time that gave his brother focus again. Gabriel was ultimately grateful that she could provide him comfort.

But he now questioned  _when_  that comfort had actually started and his jaw clenched with frustration. For that woman with the angel eyes was  _Hayyoth_. That woman was Michael’s  _Hayyoth_  …

##  **_Traitor_.**

He should have told Raphael the moment Michael went rogue. He shouldn’t have given his brother the benefit of the doubt. He shouldn’t have …  _cared so much._

Gabriel’s head cocked to the right, then to the left, as he heard her moving within. When the door swung open wide, her face plowed into his chest and she looked up, her brown eyes full of absolute  _shock_.

“ _Hello_  …  ** _Prophet_**.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Greeting the Menace - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5vOZ5iOCt2qvBXG56roGUB&t=YmRjYWM4MGM0ZmQ3NWYzYTAxMjRkNDZmNTczMmY1OGE3NGQxNmE0Miw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

> _But the pain kept coming_
> 
> _Weak from the rivers of blood that kept running_
> 
> _And fain from the image uncovered in front of him_
> 
> _He knew it, the angel of death he’d confronted_

This was so much better than before. They worked in marvelous unison and at one point, Quintus found himself  _laughing_. Wait, he was laughing? No no. Maybe he was just …  _no, this was quite amusing_  and he was clearly enjoying himself.

They smashed against the two warriors with desperate persistence and fell, each and every one, each and every time. Even when the phoenixes came in waves at them, Ozryel would spread her wings and shield them  _both_  from the flames.

“This is taking too long.” Something in the pit of his chest  _demanded_  that they hurry. Something wickedly desperate knotted in his heart.  _Something was wrong_.  ** _Something was very wrong_**. “ _We must hurry, Ozryel._ ”

They were making progress now, but it was slow. She nodded to him, slamming her hand down onto the bridge and  _deconstructing_  it in front of them.

“Wait,  ** _no_**!” Quintus screamed as he watched her force the rest of the structure to crumble and all those upon it fell to the valley below. Her eyes burned fiery red as she began to reform it. The Power of Creation took all of her attention and he defended from the flying strikes while she rebuilt the bridge in the form of a tunnel, enclosed on all sides to allow them safe passage.

_Them?_

She stood and stumbled slightly as he grabbed her and gave her balance. The act of divinity took a lot from her and he could see her struggling now. “Ah, good. Finally. _Back up_.” She glanced behind them, down the empty bridge from where they just came and he spun, feeling both relief and  _annoyance_  as he faced Honoria and Sempronius.

“No!” He commanded, pointing back down the bridge. “Return at once.” Somehow he knew that wasn’t going to work.

“You asked us to help.” Honoria stated. “So, we are  _helping_.”

Sempronius shrugged as it seemed he was fully  _compliant_  now. He approached Ozryel and looked down at the hordes attempting to build a living ladder out of themselves to get back up to the bridge. He glanced up, looking at the vulture-like angelic beings circling them from above. “Why don’t they attack?”

“They fear  ** _my blade_**.” Ozryel grinned and looked down at her precious  _gift_ , billowing with pride.

“Wait …” Sempronius squinted below and then around. “Where are the  ** _Bene Elohim_**?”

“Very good question,  _Centurion_. Right, OK. So, change in plan then.” She turned back to Quintus, looking down at her blade one last time with love before shoving it into his hands. “Try not to  _actually_  kill anyone with it, please. I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll keep them busy for a while.”

Quintus blinked. “No. No. It is better in your hands.” He didn’t fully trust himself  _not_  to kill anyone and he attempted to hand the sword back.

“No. Not right now.  _Definitely not right now_.” She stepped up onto the edge of the bridge and his dhampir eyes grew wide as he realized what she was about to do. “Quintus, if you see Raphael …  ** _RUN_**.”

“Ozryel! No!” They had been fighting a bottle-neck on the bridge, but there was an  _entire_  sea of creatures beneath them. There was  _no way_  she could succeed below. She would be caught, imprisoned again …

“Oh  _my dear one. Have faith!_  It’s just a single army after all.” Her wide and sinister grin sent a shiver down his spine as she faced them, planting her feet firmly on the concrete lip. She spread her arms out on either side. “ _Did no one tell you who I am?_ ” Her eyes of flame grew vibrantly bright, red sparks danced across her white skin as her wings spread fully behind her, and she became fully  _serpentine_  as she hissed words through her now fanged teeth and split tongue. “ _I am Ozryel. I am the_   ** _Angel of Death._** ”

She surrendered to the air as she fell backwards off the bridge and he found himself lunging forward in a foolish attempt to grab her, but it was too late. Gravity accepted her body and as she plummeted, she arched herself backwards, pulling her wings in tight and becoming a missile heading directly downwards.

The impact crater was impressive and all creatures within its boundary were flung violently back from the shockwave. She stood, glancing up only once, locking eyes with Quintus a final time before she swung around mercilessly as the army attempted to descend upon her.

“Come on. Into the tunnel. Let’s go.” Sempronius tugged on his arm, pulling him back from the ledge. “She’s the distraction. And trust me, it’s a  _good distraction_..” He pointed into the empty and long corridor before them pointing out Honoria who was already  _running_  ahead of them. “She’s affording you an advantage. Accept it.”

_Damnation._

* * *

Dawn said nothing since the factory and he stopped trying to talk to her for the last few hours as the vehicle bounded down the road. They were heading south. He knew where she was driving and it was  _perfect_. He also knew she was considering all of her options but she had to realize there were none left.

In every sense this was  _checkmate. Gabriel had seen her._

Finally, she spoke. “They’ll come for me now?” 

> “Yes.”

“Can I  _beat_  them?” 

> “Beat? No. Maybe one, but  _not four_. Not even I was able to  _beat_  four.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was  _true enough_. The best deceits are rooted in  _truth._

“But, they can’t find me.” She was trying to find an ounce of  _hope_  in the situation but EL wouldn’t allow her to have any. 

> “Hiding from Michael isn’t like hiding from the Traveller. He’ll find you. Raphael  _will_  find you.  _Just like he found me_. It’s only a matter of time now, Aurora.”

There was only  _one_  creature in all of creation that EL had ever feared and he didn’t hold back the real  _fear_  in his tone. Besides, it helped sell the  _hopelessness_  of it all.

“And what will he do  _when_  he finds me?” Her voice trembled. 

> “What  _The Law_  dictates be done.”

She looked at him finally and he saw the tears pooling her eyes  _again_.  _Good_. 

> “Your very existence is dangerous to them and everything they hold dear. You will be cleansed.  They’ll destroy  _your soul_.”

Turning back to stare at the road, she mulled over his words carefully. “Can Michael help–” 

> “He seeks to take your power and make  _you mad_ , Aurora.  _Do you want to end up like your father? You know who did that to him._ ”

There were things that she feared and he  _knew_  every one of them and madness was only second to  _falling_.

“So it’s  _madness_  or …  _oblivion_?” She wiped her running nose on her sleeve and he bit back the smile that  _nearly_  escaped. 

> “I wish it hadn’t come to this, but there is another option, and you know it. One where you retain your soul  _and_  your sanity  _and_  your power. The same option I was forced to make.”

“No … I won’t do that.” Her eyes closed tightly and she took a deep breath. “I won’t give up … I can’t … ” 

> “This is the opposite of giving up, don’t you get it? It’s  _surviving_.  It’s how I had to survive.”

“No.” 

> “If you stay, then  _you lose_. If you stay, then they win. And … What  _reason_  do you have to stay here anymore?”

“I …” She stuttered, the Gladiator’s name hanging on the edge of her mind and the tears began to stream down her cheeks again. 

> “ _I offer you acceptance exactly as you are._ ”

EL spoke with such ease. 

> “ _I offer you existence._ ”

He spoke with such loving confidence. 

> “ _I offer you sanctuary, sister._ ”

##  **_Checkmate._ **

****

* * *

****

**[Don’t Get in My Way - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6P2QisQWdPFmR31FR71MDm&t=ZWQwMmYwOTgxYjk0NmU4ZGIwMDEzZGU1MDE5MzYzNzE1MGVhZDA3Yyw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

> _Now see a wise man learns from your mistakes_
> 
> _And lets the blunders of his brother serve to fill his plate_
> 
> _So best be on your way before the tidal wave breaks_
> 
> _Cuz you don’t want to come to meet the Reaper that awaits_

None followed them. Even the winged ones, once the blade was out of her hands, descended upon Ozryel. As they breached the end of the tunnel, they found themselves on a rocky path which led up into the mountains. Sempronius pointed the way and they moved swiftly.

“There are  _many_  paths. Many ways which lead to the same destination. But, I suggest we take the highest route, less chance of ambush.”

There was nothing for miles, but Quintus  _heard_  them before he saw them. He listened to their nervous  _breaths_  and  _heartbeats_  from around the bend. Taking the lead, he stepped forward, holding the blade before him and he saw the first of the soldiers and he recognized them immediately.

His shadows: Puriel and Dukiel.

Puriel’s eyes locked onto his celestial weapon and never moved form it. They  _both_ knew he was much faster  _and_  stronger than they were. He had shown them on  _many_ occasions and now they doubted their abilities.

“Stay close.” He instructed the humans in tow and he approached the wall of soldiers slowly. As he closed the distance, the Bene Elohim moved away, keeping a good distance from the sword. This was not something they were expecting and Quintus moved through the crowd  _slowly_  but surely. Dukiel and Puriel followed closely behind while they parted the warriors like water.

Quintus knew they would follow him. If they felt like they might get the upper hand on the situation and if they thought they might be able to remove the destructive blade from his command, they would. They breached the end of the cohort. “How much further is it?” He was concerned about more Bene Elohim ahead.

“Less than half a kilometer to the end of the mountain pass. Then it is the cobblestone road that runs along the wall to the courtyard and final gate.”

“Good.” All  _small_  areas. He would be able to cut through any in his way. He traded blades with Honoria, instead of Sempronius, slipping the celestial sword into her hand and taking her gladius. She was  _the best_ , wasn’t she? “Keep them here for me.”

“Quintus.” Sempronius’ brows furrowed. “You–”

“Do you wish to return to Earth with me?” He asked simply and Honoria tipped herself up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The gesture made him blush slightly.

“ _Be safe._ ” She smiled.

He looked at Sempronius for confirmation and the man gave him a single nod. They might have voiced a goodbye, but it wasn’t in either of their characters to do so and Quintus returned the single nod.

He turned to leave, but something plagued his mind suddenly. He felt doubt chip away at his usually abundant hope and he  _needed_  to know this was  _not_  all in vain. That it was not all  _simply_  just a game to the  _gods_. He needed affirmation that the manipulative angel prophet had spoken the truth. “What would my name have been?”

“That was decided before you were even conceived.” Sempronius spoke without hesitation. “You would have been named for  _my father_.”

“Cassius.” Honoria said.

 _Yes_. That is what the Wheel had claimed.  _Cassius Densus_. His hope was restored.

He was gone down the trail, and Honoria stared at the empty path longingly. Sempronius rolled his eyes, reading her easily and he stepped forward, grabbing the handle of the sword and gently tugging it out of her hand.

Nearly pouting at having to give up the sword, she smirked instead. “ _Right_. Wouldn’t actually want to  _destroy_  anyone huh?” It was a veiled and playful insult towards him and his skill in comparison to hers and he returned her grin.

“Just  _go_  already.  _Help him_. You know you want to.” Flicking his head towards the direction where Quintus had exited. “I’ve got this.”

“Love you.” His wife made no delay and followed after their son as he turned to face the Bene Elohim …  _alone_. A familiar and intense feeling washing over him as he stared at the crowd, wondering who the first would be. It was the short pudgy angel, Dukiel, who took the first step forward and Puriel put her hand on his chest, causing the angel to hesitate. Everyone knew who  _Honoria_  was, but this was just a man … right?

“ _He is just a man_.” He scoffed an argument, but Puriel’s expression was enough to make him stand his ground in hesitation.

“No. That is not  _just a man_.” She said with quaking uncertainty. “That is  _Sempronius Densus_ , brother.”

 _Yes._  The crowd tensed in unison.  _They_   ** _all_**   _knew this name_. [History](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F19275481&t=MWMxOTQ0MmM4OTI5ZWU0NWE5NjU0YTY0YzdjNjdjOWQ3YmM1ZDFhNiw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)[ itself knew this name](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F19275481&t=MWMxOTQ0MmM4OTI5ZWU0NWE5NjU0YTY0YzdjNjdjOWQ3YmM1ZDFhNiw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1). It is said that Sempronius Densus was one of the few men, in all of  _time_ , that had stood against an army  ** _alone_**. He was  _not_  just a man nor just a  _hero_. He wasn’t even  _just_  a legend. He was a  _myth_ , even now, standing before the  _mythical_ themselves.

“Yes. I  _am_  Sempronius Densus.” Sempronius nodded at her words as he addressed the entire crowd before him with a bellowing and intimidating voice. “But he is absolutely right. I am …  _just a man_. You will undoubtedly win, great and many  _Bene Elohim_. I will fall, just as I did before.” He gripped the handle of the sword tightly in his hands. This was strategic. It was to further enforce  _his bluff_. He squeezed so tight that their oversensitive hearing would pick up on his skin squeaking against the celestial handle and bring full attention to the weapon in his command. “But I do wonder.” It was a wicked grin that spread across his lips and he locked eyes with Dukiel specifically. “How many I might take with me into Oblivion. So … who will be  ** _first_**?”

The Bene Elohim were brave. They were far from cowardly. They were well trained. Older than  _any_  man in existence, but none had ever faced actual  _destruction_. They were soldiers, yes, but they were also angels and they were quite used to being  _immortal_.

No angel dared to step forward first.

 

* * *

 

 **[Fade Away (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6gESh31NmxWLexcfJwvXdV&t=MDZmYWI5YzBlNjFmMzAwYTg3ODZiNDgyNzQzNDZhNDNlNmRhNzBkNSw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

She stepped up to the wooden door and breathed in deeply. It had been a quiet twenty minute walk through the frigid black forest. If EL hadn’t been there, she might have gotten lost. She didn’t remember much about the landscape from when she had been here the first time.

Her fingers timidly touched the knob and her chest  _ached_  suddenly, unsure if she could even step within. 

> “We can do this somewhere else.”

He offered, but she shook her head, taking another deep breath and pushed the tiny cabin’s door open. It was completely dark, but her eyes adjusted and she resisted the urge to succumb to further tears as she took the  _tiny_  room in. It was exactly as they had left it. No one had been here in the year since they had.

The wind whistled as it blew through the shutters and she knelt at the fireplace, building the wood as she had seen Quintus do that day. Striking a match, she watched the dry wood catch fire and she stared at it blankly before she stood and sat at the small table, avoiding the couch entirely.

 _No. Too many memories there_.

As she let herself ease down onto the chair, she saw the notepad and the pen, recognizing the paper instantly.  _This_  was where he had written the note to Ferraro while she slept and she couldn’t resist the tears any longer. 

> “Aurora.”

She pulled the  _all too familiar_  bowie knife from her boot and laid it on the table and stared at it. The same knife she had driven into Quintus’ ribs the first day they met. She had fished it out of the burned wreckage of the fourth building while Barqan worked on her staff. The very same knife that  _The Master_  had offered to her  _to take her own life_  on the day she used it to escape his captivity.

How …  _fitting_.

Something about that memory plagued her suddenly. It had  _never_  made much sense, did it? Why did he want her to … She cocked her head to the right and EL stepped forward quickly, bring her attention back to the task at hand. 

> “Aurora.”

“If I do  _this_  … I will  _never_  see him again.” She said. Her words rotted in her throat in the time it took for her to finally speak them. 

> “Do you still want him?” He asked simply.

Some part of her wanted to say  _yes_ , but another part of her hated that. She was stronger than that, wasn’t she? She was stronger than a sniveling woman who would  _forgive_  … who would  _wait_  and  _long_  and … 

> “If he’s really what you want, I can give him to you. I can give you any world you want. _Anything_  that your mind can think of.  _Any_  situation.  _Any_  time.  _Any_  place. And … if  _he’s_ what you  _really_  want, what you think you  _need_ , I can give  _him_  to you.”

His words corrupted and ached but somehow soothed her heart.

“But … it wouldn’t be  _real_.” Her words grasped at any semblance of happiness she thought she might have once possessed. “And it wouldn’t really be  _him_.” 

> “What world  _is_  real? Define what  _real_  even means. It would exist, and you within it. How is a world that I create less real than a world my father created?”

His words were penetrating and vicious and … true.

“It wouldn’t be  _him_. He’s–” Her words were desperate and nearly hopeful. 

> “Like you said. Like you  _saw_. He’s happy.”

His words. It’s all he had to say. It’s all he had to whisper over her shoulder and into her ear to finally  _break_  her.

“ _… happy …_ ” 

> “He’s in  _Eternity … with his family_  … and he’s happy. This can’t shock you … He  _told_ you he would go there for them. Even  _I_  heard him that night.  ** _Eternity_**. And yet you still clung to this …  _fantasy_. I’m disappointed because I know you’re stronger than  _that_ , aren’t you?”

She felt completely weak in this moment. She wasn’t  _strong_  at all. “ _I still love him. Maybe–_ ” 

> _“All_  love is  _fleeting_. Just as all beauty  _fades_.  ** _You shared a brief, rich, and vivid moment in time_**. It was nice. Embrace it. Remember it. But don’t let it define you. _Don’t let it_   ** _break_**   _you._ ”

“My emotions don’t break me.” She barked back, remembering Ellie’s words on  _this subject_. “They make me stronger.” 

> “Really? You’re gonna tell me that? While you’re sitting here crying because he didn’t pick you. Because he’s not pining over you like you are him? Because he accepted happiness with  _someone else_?”

“I thought …” She stared down at her empty hands and then at the knife on the table. 

> “You’re  _young_. Embrace the ephemeral experience that it was. Let it shape you and make you stronger, but don’t let  _childish love_  diminish your brightness.”

“You think love is childish?” 

> “The fact you think you need him to  _have purpose_  is childish. You don’t  _need_  him. You don’t  _need_  him to  _need_  you.”

“But he came to see me that day. Why would he have … ” Quintus’ words to her that day, during Fet and Dutch’s wedding: ‘ _Libellula. Please … please do not be sad. I am –_ ’

 _Happy … ? At peace … ?_  Oh god, how had she misread the situation so absolutely? 

> “And he never came back. You heard him. His words that day. To not be sad.  _He was letting you go, Aurora._  He came to say goodbye. Now it’s your turn.”

“But I don’t want to be …  _let go_. I don’t want to …  _let go._ ” 

> “No one ever does. Even if you  _could_  go back to him again, would you? He would be  _forced_  to chose. You would  _force_  him to make a choice? He has a  _family_  there.”

Dawn’s face fell suddenly, “No … I … that’s not what I want … ” 

> “And do you think he would pick you? Over  _them_? Over  _his daughter?_  He has longed for them for almost two thousand years. You knew him for a matter of months.”

“He said he  _wanted_  me … he said he loved–” 

> “He  _wanted_  you  _and_   ** _he had you_**. I don’t doubt there  _was_  some kind of love. It’s just not what you assumed it was.”

Dawn hadn’t broken in tears in several months, but EL’s words hit deep and she felt her eyes beginning to pool.  _Goddamnit. Not again._  Stop it. STOP IT NOW. 

> “This kind of  _infatuation_  is meant to be fleeting. It is meant be  _powerful_  and it’s never meant to last.”

_He’s happy._  

> “He  _enjoyed_  you, but he’s done now, so why dwell on him any longer? You  _forced_  him to trade intimacy for pleasure and he complied. Can you blame him?”

_Oh god. She was definitely gonna be sick again._  Did she do this? Did she blackmail him into it all? 

> “It’s time to have enough pride in yourself to move on. He isn’t  _worth_  it, Aurora. He doesn’t  _deserve_  you.”

She was so embarrassed …  _again._  

> “He doesn’t deserve your love. Your attention. Your admiration. Your defiance. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your strength.”

She was a fool …  _again._  

> “He took what he wanted from you once already. Don’t let him keep taking …”

 

* * *

 

He could  _see_  the courtyard ahead and his heart jumped. He was nearly there. He was nearly back to her and he slowed his pace slightly as he felt  _them_  before him. When she stepped out of thin air and into his view, Quintus tilted his head to the right, glaring at her. He was wondering  _when_  she would show up.

_“Hello Ancharia.”_

“You’ve gotten quite far. Very impressive, Quintus.” She said, pride rich in her voice. “But I’m afraid this is as far as you will be permitted to go.”

He felt others present, but they were hiding from his vision and he laughed out loud. “Do you think you, or  _any of them_ , will be able to stop me?”

“There are  _many_  of us, my Fifth Invictus.” They all came into view and he understood what they were. The way they  _became_  solid again from pure smoke, he had seen before in the tent of the  ** _Great Fire_**. They were  _Djinn_ , or at least  _half_.

“I have fought tougher.” There were no more than fifty of them. After what he had just been through, this would not be a problem, but he  _needed_  to hurry.

Ancharia’s eyes darted over his shoulder as she spied something approaching and he knew who the the tiny and delicate footsteps belonged to. He grinned.

“Ah good.” Honoria stepped up beside him. “I was a bit worried I  _might_  miss all the fun.”

“Sempronius?” He asked without tearing his eyes from Ancharia as she drew her blade in response to Honoria’s presence.

“He’s got that … but you shouldn’t delay.” She grinned at him. He found her unassuming figure adorable, coupled with her crooked little smile and her large nose, he felt increasing love for this woman. “I’ve got this. Go on. Shoo.” Her eyes grew large and crazy and then the tiny and incredibly dangerous woman drew a second blade from nowhere, one that was double edged.

“We will not let you pass.” Ancharia laughed, showing condescension at Honoria’s display before she said with her most manipulative tone. “You may not understand this now, but this is for your own safety,  _son_.”

“I’m sorry …” Honoria chortled. “But didn’t you get the memo?” She stepped forward, preparing herself as she took a stance Quintus had seen Uriel take before. “He’s  ** _not_** your son.  He  _never_  was.”

Ancharia was clearly not expecting the strength of the strike nor was she expecting the speed at which Quintus ran by them. Some attempted to follow, but Honoria was already between him and the rest. Her movements were so beautifully fluid as she danced into the perfect position.

But she was just a  _human_. He wasn’t sure how long she might be able to keep them at bay.

 _Hurry Quintus_.

When he hit the courtyard entrance, he froze entirely as he gazed upon the man sitting at the center table. His back was to the dhampir and Quintus cringed as the  _Elohim_ tapped the table with his fingers once and stood, turning to face him.

“I’d actually prefer  _not_  to do this.” Uriel stated.

“As would I.” Quintus began the motion of attempting to circle the archangel, but Uriel stayed between him and the final opening to the beach. He could  _see_  the water from here and his heart beat rapidly with hopeful intentions.

“Then let’s not.” Uriel offered a truce. “Return with me to the Citadel and we can discuss  _Michael_  and  _Ozryel_  and what plagues them and you can return to your life with freedom.”

 _This was not_   ** _freedom_**.

“I appreciate the offer.” He truly  _did_. “But I am afraid I will have to decline.”

Uriel nodded, drawing his blade from the sheath on his back slowly. “We’ve been through this dance before, Quintus  _Densus_.” The angel seemed to sneer the last name and he wondered if Uriel saw him more as Honoria’s or Sempronius’ son … or perhaps it was because Quintus himself represented  _their union_.

“Indeed we have.” Quintus smirked slightly.

“If you recall … You did not fare well.”

“I think you will find that victory will not be so easy  _this time_.”

 

* * *

 

She tried everything. She clawed at his hands then she tried to reach for his face, but he was far too tall. She tried to refuse to walk, and he just drug her along, her heels kicking at the ground and dragging in the dirt. She tried to go limp and then he just picked her up, which meant she was closer to his face, so she went for his face with her prodding fingers. Overall, he was actually quite patient with her antics, until he  _wasn’t_.

“You’re acting like a child!” He hissed as he pulled her thumb from his eye.

“You’re the  _child_!” She screamed. “Put me down! Put me down! PLEASE HELP ME! Someone!” She began to scream at people they passed and they only watched with muted shock as Gabriel carried her down the road, ignoring her protests. “Where are you taking me?! What is the purpose of this!? I demand answers, Gabriel! How dare–”

“How dare I?” Throwing her down to the ground from his shoulder, he pointed a finger towards her face as he whispered a sneer at her. “I know your secret, prophet  _whore_.”

Did he just call her …  _a whore_? “What did you just call me?”

“Play dumb. I don’t care.” He grabbed her wrist and dragged her along the road. “I already saw the woman.”

“What woman?!” She ranted.

“The woman  _with the angel eyes_.”

 _Uh oh._  Hathu nearly held her breath. For the first time he’s taken her, she wasn’t sure what to say next.  _Denial_  was a powerful thing, but at some point, it was simply pointless. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“As I said. Play dumb. I don’t care.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“No one lives above the law.” Gabriel never broke stride. “Even you,  _Prophet._ ”

 

* * *

 

This time was quite different than the last but he was disappointed. Quintus had assumed he would sweep the floor with Uriel, given what Ozryel had  _gifted_  to him, but now they were just evenly matched, in every way possible.

What Uriel lacked in strength and divinity compared to Quintus, he made up for with skill and experience.

“I see Ozryel has been  _helping_  you out.” Uriel grinned, almost enjoying the new challenge. “You’re  _much_  better. Too bad you didn’t actually  _work for it_.”

Every lunge, every strike, every blow was blocked and vice versa. Neither one had landed a single successful attack and the fight just continued. He was certain it would end up being a battle of endurance, but he had  _no time for this_.

“Let me pass.” Quintus asked finally. What would it hurt to ask? “What harm would it do?”

“I’m sorry.” Uriel shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’ve orders.”

“You dislike me and I do not even wish to be here.” This was clearly the truth. “Let me leave and I will never return.”

“Sorry,  _Densus_.” That last name again. His dislike for Sempronius shown through his words. “I have a responsibility to uphold and I have my orders.”

“ _You’ve broken your orders before._ ” Her voice rocked Uriel from the fight and he took a step back from the battle, seeing Honoria over the dhampir’s shoulder.

She was apparently finished with the Djinnlings. Though her clothes didn’t survive the battle fully intact, she was completely unscathed. A single bead of sweat trailed down her forehead and she was now wielding two  _different_  swords, one of which was Ancharia’s. Quintus was sure she had taken that blade to prove a point.  _Fitting_. He would have done the same.

“Honoria?!?” Uriel gawked. “ _What are you doing here?!_ ”

“Calling out your  _bullshit_.” She spat. Quintus wasn’t sure if making him  _angry_  was a good plan and he glanced back at her in dismay. “Do not hide behind the guise of  ** _Orders_**. We  _both_  know you are capable of more than  _just that_.”

There was bitter history in these words. There was obvious pain here, still raw and agonizing to both.

“Go home.” He commanded, her presence obviously rattled him. “Back to your  _loving_ husband where you  _belong_.”

“Uriel. Let him pass …  _for me_.” Her voice wasn’t pleading. It was firm and authoritative. She was  _different_  around this angel than she was around Sempronius.

“I can’t …” Uriel stared at her with growing annoyance. “I cannot do that. I have my  ** _Orders_**. You cannot ask me to disobey  _Heaven_  for–”

“For me?” Uriel’s mouth pursed at her words. “You’ve  _disobeyed_  before.” Quintus might have thought this was veiled threat. Perhaps blackmail but that would have been uncharacteristic of Honoria. No, this was something else entirely. She was opening an old wound.

“That was  _different_.” Uriel stated. “That was  _for_  …”

“For me.” She sighed. “And Quintus is a  _part_  of  _me_.” She stepped forward, between the two men and moved Uriel’s blade down with the palm of her hand. “I have never asked  _anything_  of you, Uriel.” She negotiated and his face contorted with discomfort. “If you ever  _really_  loved me, as you claimed you did. If you still do, as you keep claiming, if your words were the  _truth … then please let him pass …_  for me.”

There was an savage internal conflict that raged in the archangel’s mind. His eyes darted from Honoria and Quintus, back and forth. His brows furrowed and Quintus began to plan for what might occur next. Since Uriel and he were evenly matched, then he was certain with Honoria’s help, they might be able to actually  _defeat_  him. Quintus was absolutely certain that was her objective.

“My words to  _you_  have always been the truth.  _I would have stepped_   ** _down_**   _… for you_ … I  _offered_  it.”

“Then  _prove_  it to me.”

Quintus was  _sure_  that was her plan and he prepared himself for the fight to erupt again until Uriel took a deep step to the right, looking down to the ground before he spread his black wings fully and peered down into her eyes. Quintus couldn’t read if he was full of shame or love, but he accepted it was likely  _both_. The archangel reached up and gingerly touched her cheek with his thumb, wiping a tear as it trailed down her face as he spoke. “ _Love is our grace._   ** _Love … is our downfall._** ” And he took flight.

Wait, what? Did that just work? Did she just …  _ask The Right Hand of God to step aside and he complied?!_  He knew there was history, but this went far beyond  _that_. Should he ever see his father again, he made a note not to mention this to Sempronius …  _ever_.

She watched the angel fly away and turned back to him, nodding. “Go. GO NOW. Before he changes his mind.”

Quintus looked beyond her and out into the open waters. Nothing stood between them now. His heart raced furiously as he began to approach the final gate with zeal. His feet were almost to the sand when he spied the outline of the structure’s shadow upon the ground and the winged figured perched ominously on top of it. The stature and the lack of long hair made it clear who it was and he stopped suddenly in his tracks.

 _Damnation_.

##  ****_Raphael_**.**

* * *

She realized where he was taking her and she screamed and screamed, but no one moved to help her. And why would they? He was one of the  _Living Creatures_. He was  _The Third Son_. He was  _The Messenger._  Regardless of who she was, he was  _divine and just._

Pulling her down the spiraling steps, she began to panic. “What? What are you doing?!? Please you cannot do this. Gabriel, please, this is–”

“Stop your screaming.” Gabriel released his grip on her and she fell to her knees once they hit the bottom step. “Stop being so damn dramatic. If he comes for you …  _like I know he will … nothing bad will happen_.”

“I am …  ** _bait_**?” She pulled her knees close to her chest as she stared into the water of the pool before her. “Gabriel, I–”

“Enough. I’m tired of your lies, seductress.” He looked around at the newly rebuilt structure. This was the only place he could think of that would give him an advantage over the powers of the Staff. No travel was possible within the Chamber of Rebirth and Michael would have to face him directly. He wouldn’t be able to  _run_  so easily this time.

Gabriel took a deep breath and stared down at his trembling hands. He was filled with uncertainty and he reached out into the Nexus, bellowing as loud as possible,  ** _for all to hear_** , disregarding Raphael’s instructions for silence. 

> **I have**   ** _your prophet_** ,  **Governor. Come get her.**

 

* * *

 

Ozryel looked up into the sky and all the angels paused as Gabriel’s voice boomed.

> **I have**   ** _your prophet_** ,  **Governor. Come get her.**

“ _Brother … No_  …”

She could not afford Quintus any more time and she hoped he had enough of a lead. Michael needed her now more than ever before.

She pushed the hordes away with a flick of her wrist and took flight.

 

* * *

 

 **[No One - Alicia Keys](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0JEqGkvUiMTQmFY6sgL9kg&t=MjgyNTMxZWM5OGMzOGFmMzk4OTIxZjE2MDhiYjBiYjM3OGJkOWI1Ziw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

> _No one, no one, no one_
> 
> _Can get in the way of what I’m feeling_
> 
> _No one, no one, no one_
> 
> _Can get in the way of what I feel for you, you, you_
> 
> _Can get in the way of what I feel for you_

Quintus froze. He replayed Ozryel’s last words to him.

 

> “If you see Raphael …  ** _RUN_**.”

He stared at the water and then he stared at the shadow. He was  _so close_. He  _might_ be able to make it in time. Perhaps? Ozryel said to run, but she didn’t say which direction, did she? Quintus took a deep breath and began to sprint as fast as he could.

Everything slowed around him and his feet pounded into the sand as he thrust himself forward with every ounce of strength he had.

##  _Go Quintus. GO._

Two steps out, he saw the shadow begin to move. He saw it crouch down and prepare to launch itself upward.

##  _Will it Quintus. WILL IT._

Three steps out, the shadow’s wings were fully spread.

## HURRY.

Four steps out, the shadow was off the gate and above it. Raphael was already moving faster than he could but that didn’t shock him at all. He expected it.

##  _**Fuck**._

Five steps. Six. Seven. The shadow loomed and grewer bigger as it approached him from behind and above. He was now more than halfway to the water and he started to count the steps down, instead of up.

 _Five. Four. Three. Two_. Talons pierced his back and he fought to take the final step, but their grip was powerful, tearing into his shoulders and pulling him backwards sharply before allowing him to fall flat onto his back. He attempted to get back up, but the claws dug into his chest as Raphael placed a foot on his sternum to stop him.

“Hello there.” His calm voice purred. “Glad to see you again.” Purple eyes peered down at him and a small smile crept upon the archangel’s face.

_Smug bastard. Irrumator!!!_

Raphael moved his foot away, reaching down, grabbing a handful of Quintus’ shirt. He began to drag the screaming dhampir through the sand, back towards the gate.

“ _Futue te ipsum!!!_ ” Quintus thrashed.

“Language, Quintus. It’s so unbecoming of you.”

“Nooo!” Quintus bellowed as he kicked and swung furiously like a child but he could do  _nothing_  to stop the angel. “NOOOOOO!  _Es mundus excrementi!_ ”

“Stop this.” Raphael said. “You are far too old to be acting like a child.”

Quintus only grew more enraged as he watched the water get farther away. Reaching out as if he might be able to grasp it with his hand, he groped the air hoping that he might be able to  _will himself_  to it. “NOOOO!  _Potes meos suaviari clunes!_ ”

_So close. SO VERY CLOSE._

Quintus could count on his fingers the number of times he had cried in his life and this was now one of them. Raphael was right about him being childish, because right now, he felt like a child. Powerless and desperate, he screamed and fought as tears streamed down his cheeks. Something in the pit of his stomach ached and he felt  _more anguish_  than he ever had before. Something was happening …  _something was bad was happening_. Something was  _breaking_.

“PLEASE!” And now, he did something he had  _never_  done before in this moment. He  _begged_  as he reached out for the water again. “PLEASE!!! PLEASE LET ME GO!!! PLEASE, I BEG YOU!”

They were already back to the gate and Raphael reached down, picking Quintus up to his feet and pushing him against the side of the gate’s wall. “I have had enough of this. What has gotten into you lately?! You haven’t been acting like yourself since you arrived! You have longed for the afterlife for  _so long_  and now that you have it, you wish to go back. You are  _never_  please, are you?”

“Please … I need to go …” He fought to catch his breath. “ _I need to go back …_  I know your secret! RELEASE ME OR I WILL TELL EVERYO–”

“My secret?” Raphael nearly giggled. “Oh do you,  _child_? And what secret is that, pray tell?”

“I know you are Argaman.” Quintus sneered and the archangel’s face grew solemn, his smile melting away.

“I’m sorry to hear that” Raphael sighed. “I’m going to need to take that knowledge from you.”  _Wait … take that knowledge from him?!_  “And I can’t allow you to go. I apologize. You are  _far too important_.” The angel took a deep breath. “And, if you know  _my secret_ , then it’s only fair I know yours. I’m sorry, Quintus, but it’s time to  _share_.”

“No no no no no! Do not! I will be calm!” Quintus violently tried to push against the archangel’s strength and offered compliance, but it was too late. Raphael’s eyes sparked and he felt him slice into his mind.

_Faex._

This was different than when Michael violated him. It felt like Michael was taking a sledgehammer to his brain, but Raphael was using a scalpel, precise and calculated. He was unable to look away from the purple irises, as the angel began to fold back the layers of his thoughts. Quintus attempted the same trick again, and tried to thrust memories in his way, but Raphael was not distracted like Michael. Quintus could feel himself drooling as the Hayyoth took in  _everything_.

The archangel’s head tilted to the right as the first revelation was made. 

> _**Wait … how are you connected to the Nexus?** _

No. No. NO. Quintus was desperate to hold the memories back, but they rushed forward as Raphael asked the question. Everything, in a matter of seconds, spilled forth and everything flashed before the angel.

His head tilted to the left as the next revelations were made. 

> _The Pond and The Creator._
> 
> _The Factory and the Woman with the Dragonfly Eyes._
> 
> _The White and the Bomb._
> 
> _Michael and the Princess Prophet._
> 
> _The Conversation with The Wheel and …_
> 
> **_The Rainbow Eyes._ **

He was free and Raphael reeled backwards, his eyes fell to the sand as his hand came up to his forehead in disbelief.

“It was Michael, this whole time? Michael?! SON … OF …  _A BITCH!_ ” The archangel licked his lips and looked up at Quintus, seriousness melting away to …  _laughter_? Hmmm. Uh oh. This wasn’t a good kind of laughter either. He was amused, he was crazed. “It wasn’t you … This  _whole_  time …  _it wasn’t you_. She  _knew_  it wasn’t you. God damn, Andy. THOUSANDS OF YEARS and it WASN’T YOU!?!?”

Was he amused or  _angry_?

“I thought he was a  _moron_.” He backed up and his face grew serious before he broke out into a fit of laughter again. “He sat upon that fucking Seat of Truth and he proclaimed  _you_  not to be the Child of Prophecy … I thought he was just an  _idiot_. For fuck’s sake …”

Quintus wiped the drool for his chin, attempting to catch his breath as he watched the angel internalize the information fully. “It’s because he  _knew_  … that …  _that sneaky motherfucker knew you weren’t …_  He was  _erasing_  the records to protect … ” Raphael looked at Quintus and his face grew calm as he smiled warmly. “ _To protect Dawn._ ”

“Raphael … please.” Quintus looked into the water, almost afraid to ask his next question. “What will you do now, Argaman? She needs  _help_.” 

> **I have**   ** _your prophet_** ,  **Governor. Come get her.**

Gabriel’s voiced ripped through the Nexus with furious thunder and the Raphael’s face fell to absolute worry. “ _Gabriel … oh no …_ ” The angel whispered, seeming to ponder something quietly in his mind before turning back to Quintus and placing both hands onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry Quintus. But there’s no longer time to be  _gentle_.”

_Gentle_? Was this being gent–

Electricity flooded from the Hayyoth’s hands over every inch of Quintus’ body as he jolted with agony. He might have screamed, much like he did when Michael assaulted him in a similar way, but every muscle in his body clenched tight and he found himself unable to even open his mouth to make a noise. He was convulsing and even his eyes pinched shut and he could not even force them open. Raphael was pushing into the very core of his being and Quintus felt the divinity seeping into his soul itself.

He thought this was  _it_. He accepted that this was  _it_. He knew too much and he was no longer important to Raphael … to Argaman. This was what the  _second death_  felt like. He was ripping apart his very soul. He was sending him into oblivion.

A laugh. He was  _laughing_  at his anguish? Perhaps he had clearly misread this angel … 

> **_I’m not killing you, Quintus. Always so dramatic. At least that hasn’t changed._ **

He was killing him. This pain was unlike anything he had  _ever_  felt. His soul was coming apart … his soul was …  _ugh …_  

> **_I’m not killing you … I’m charging you._ **

Charging him? Charging him with what? Divinity? But, charging him for what purpose? This was torture …  _stop …_  

> **_You haven’t realized it yet, have you?_ **

Why did these angels LOVE their riddles so much?! And at a time like this?! 

> **_You are Hayyoth, of the First Brood. All those created after us are but shadows. Don’t you see it yet?_ **

How did this explain this pain? How could it? Raphael was touching his actual soul and his body convulsed. If he  _had_  hair, he imagined it would have be burned off in this act. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take this. Unable to speak or even form a thought, he begged Raphael to stop with pure emotion. 

> **_Endure. Remember what I said in the carriage. Remember what gives you purpose. You will need far more divinity than you have for what must occur next._ **

For what to occur next? For what?! He was fighting Raphael but the angel was trying to  _tell_  him something. Raphael dug a memory out of Quintus’ mind and played it for him to distract from the torment. 

> **_The First were everything the rest were, but the rest were only remnants of The First._ **

It was Sempronius in the library and Quintus tried to fixate on it … tried to make sense of it.

“ _Following the first brood were The Ophanim. The Erelim. The Hashmallim. The Elohim. The Bene Elohim. The Cherubim. The Eshim. The Malakim._ ” 

> **_You need to stop fighting it. You always have to fight, don’t you?_ **

“ _And the_   ** _Seraphim_**.  _The Burning Ones, The Winged Ones, The Feathered Serpents , who served as their own tetramorph to the elements._ ” 

> **_Always. Even when this happened before …_ **

“ _The Burning Ones, The Winged Ones, The Feathered Serpents , who served as their own tetramorph to the elements_.” 

> **_You have to accept me. Embrace the power offered. Embrace the reformation._ **

Reformation?  What reformation?

“ _The Ikisat held domain over the sky. Man came to know them as Dragons. The Chalkydri ruled the waters. Man came to know them as Hydras. The Regulus preferred the Earth beneath them. Man came to know them as Basilisks._   ** _And the Bennu commanded power over the fire._** ”

Quintus’ eyes flew open and he saw the grin on the angel’s face through his now purple clouded sight. No.  _Was it possible?_  Was he telling him what he thought he was? No. His shell was nothing  _but ash_.

_Oh gods._

“Yes. The Bennu.  _Man came to know them as_   ** _Phoenixes_**.” Raphael chortled with delight as Quintus opened up full and the angel flooded him with even more borrowed divinity.

He remembered many things in this cloud of agony.

He remembered the [Wheel](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F26604741&t=OWU2NWUzNTBiMGU5NTY5N2UxNWRmYjY5OWFjZmFkMDQ5MjFhY2ExZCw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1). 

> She had laughed out loud now and he felt foolish for even asking if she could bring him back “I cannot. I might know many things but no … I am not capable of  ** _that feat._** ” He had asked. “ ** _That feat?_**  If you are not, is someone else?” He had pressed.
> 
> _The Wheel knew … she_   ** _knew_**   _that only Raphael could charge him enough …_

He remembered [Pompeii](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F26204829&t=NTk0MGYwNTdkMGMzMDJhZDMxNGQ5NWMwOWI4N2U1NjRiMGUxOTc1YSw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1). 

> How could he have survived that day? He felt his body turning to ash. He was  _nothing_ but ash. He had questioned it often. How could he have survived? And now he knew he had  _not_  survived that day and Raphael smiled. This was not the first time the angel had  _aided_  him in this way.

He remembered his [Poet](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F22075340&t=NmU5OTA0MGY1NjU2ZDA1M2RkNTBjODM0NDM4MDg5MGI3NjVmMmM2NCw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1). 

> He saw her standing before him the moment before his first death. “ **Come to my arms, my beamish boy.** ”

**_Yes_**.

He was coming. He was coming back. He was filled with such  _hope_  now. Lots and lots of purple lightning but also  _hope_.

Raphael was done and Quintus’ body was a tight and unrelenting ball of clenched muscles. He was incapable of moving and the angel began to drag him across the sand.

“I must deal with Heaven. They will come for  _her_.” He spoke as he walked, his voice rushed. “I must get to Gabriel before he does something rash. Abyad has fallen. Find  _Raum_ , the Merciful. He will be your best ally.”

Hmmm.  _Deal with Heaven_? That didn’t sound  _good_ , but he wouldn’t worry about it now. The only thing he could do was be a slave to the power that coursed through his soul.

“It will be harder for you to reform  _this time_ , as your  _ash_  has spread, but don’t fight it, as  ** _I know_**  you will be inclined to do. This isn’t going to be pleasant.”

Quintus felt Raphael lift his contorted body and chuck him wildly into the air with an exaggerated swing. The wind blew across the dhampir’s face and he felt himself crush into the surface of the water. As he began to sink, his body started to disintegrate, getting sucked beneath.

_Finally … He was free again .._

## And everything faded …

##      into a blinding and painful  ** _violet_**.

 

* * *

 

 **[So Silent (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F17elZIvZjPT4h2rSZe4COy&t=ZmFhYmQ0MTRlNDRiMDkxMjZhZWMxYTBmNzVmZjA3NTYwMjI2ZjMyYiw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

 **In the blackness was her old friend’s voice.**  

> “ _It will get better. I promise you, child … it_   ** _will_**   _get better. But first … it must get so much worse._ ”

**In this absolute darkness, it was always Sandalphon’s voice.**  

> “ _But before you can be fully fixed … before you can understand how to heal … you must first finish breaking …_ ”

There was always  _that place_  that plagued her; that one between waking and sleeping. It was where she would often become  _stuck_  …  ** _trapped_**  … unable to move or speak or …  _dream_. But, she didn’t realize that it was in this special and  _vast_  place that the opposite was true. It was in this place that she was actually no longer held back by the shackles of her physical body, by the rules and the confines of its  _flesh_.

The problem was, in this place full of [wrath and tears](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FInvictus&t=MTE4NDgyZWRlMGYyNzFhNWM3YTBlOTlhYWY4NTFlMWE5N2EzZWY4Ziw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1), she was freer than she had ever been. She just didn’t know  _how_  to walk yet. She was a baby, flailing its arms back and forth, and all she could do was watch and  _listen_. And she  _did_  listen. They had always been there, she had just forgotten them.

How could she have forgotten them …

 ** _She Who Hears_**  … 

> _Her Light Bringer …_

**_The Prophet Queen …_**  

> _Her grandfather …_

**_The Wheel within the Wheel …_**  

> _Her Gladiator …_

##  **Accept me, Aurora.**

It had been  _their_  voices. She knew them, now that she could remember them so clearly. Even  _his_  voice. Muttering and thinking and  _living_. Everything … Everyone … Everywhere …  _Everywhen_. It was all connected and she was a part of it, even back when she was a baby. Not only that, but she was at the  _very center of it_.

She was the spoke  _within_  the wheel …

##  **It’s time to let them go now. You’ve picked me.**

Everything was connected and she was connecting it all. It was her purpose.  _To bring it all back together. It was to bring them back together_.

It wasn’t a wheel at all, was it? No, this wasn’t a circle. It was a square. It was a  _chair._ No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t understanding yet but it was too late. EL was in her  _mind_. He was  _trying_  to erase them all. She had asked him too. Everything was …  _fading_.

##  **Let ** _him_**  go, Aurora.**

And what she had also failed to realize was, in this [Horror of the shade](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FInvictus&t=MTE4NDgyZWRlMGYyNzFhNWM3YTBlOTlhYWY4NTFlMWE5N2EzZWY4Ziw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1), there was also a distant and warm voice, deep and soothing, reserved and withdrawn, just a hint of vibration trailing on the end of it.

##  **_He moved on … now it’s finally your turn._ **

She knew better. Life had always proven to her that she was different. And  _she knew better_  , she  _tried_  to surrender it all to him. She tried to let it  _all go_ , but her mind couldn’t let go of that distant voice, just a hint of vibration trailing on the end of it …

She wanted  _his voice_  to be the last thing she remembered, but it was Sandalphon’s, in this dark place. It was  _always_  her voice … 

> “Now it’s up to you again …  _it’s your choice_  …”

What choice … what choice could she possibly have now? 

> “The choice of whether you will fade … or whether you are the master of your fate, Libellula.”

## And everything faded …

##      into a blinding and painful  ** _red_**.

 

* * *

 

 **[Shifting Skies - Really Slow Motion](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5eOTKthfyAVZVRwPd6Rjyk&t=MjExNzhiZGIzNzFiYzJlOTc4Y2Y5Y2Q0ZjJkMDkzMWMyMWVkZDBjZiw5QVR3UUIzWg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167002487778%2Fchapter-96-timing&m=1)**  

He was completely formless, but he could still feel his body tugging and pulling in all directions. He thought he felt the wind helping to guide him back together, but he couldn’t see anything, at least not at first. There was a violet light in the distance and he tried to  _feel_  for it, but the light only became brighter and brighter and he couldn’t close his eyes to shield himself before he realized what it was. It was a flash of lightning. No.  _He was the flash of lightning_  and a menacing crack of thunder followed his  _arrival_.

He thought he had flesh for a moment, but it was  _everywhere_  around him. It was close and far away. It was in the air and inside of the ground. It was pulling itself down from the sky and burrowing itself up from the depths of the dirt.

When he felt the core of himself begin to reform, everything swirled around him with furious precision. But he wasn’t alive, not quite yet.

He  _felt_  first, then he  _heard_  before he could  _see_. He tried to smell, but he couldn’t breath yet before he had no lungs and he watched in horror as the particles swirled around and his body  _became_  again. There was a painful moment of silence and his heart beat  _once_. Then  _twice_. As soon as he had knees to fall upon, he did so, his hands falling into the ash before him.

He arched his back into the air and then he  _smelled_  finally as he took a deep breath in. He didn’t remember being  _born_  the first time, but this would undoubtedly stay with him  _forever_  and Raphael was  _right_.

 _Good gods. It was truly horrible_. He forgot how harsh Earth was.

He collapsed into the dirt when it was finished. He tried to lift his head, but his muscles were on  _fire_  and then he felt  ** _the hunger_**  return. Hmmm.  _That_  was something he had  _not_  missed at all.

Mr. Quinlan closed his eyes, leaving his face buried into the dirt as he came to terms with his second birth and the shell that screamed furious agony at him.

He attempted to stand one more time and he fell back onto his face.

_Hmmm. Actually, maybe he would just lay here for a bit longer._


	73. Interlude 9 - This is the Way the World Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, don't read this chapter if you can't handle intimacy.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**[Avalanche - Zola Jesus](https://open.spotify.com/track/1M01SjOKy08cLIJPvtoZU9)**   

> _And I knew it will be you_
> 
> _Coming at me like you do_
> 
> _Feel my heart, my soul with fire_
> 
> _And I won’t know_
> 
> _No, I won’t know who you are_
> 
> _‘Cause it all falls down_
> 
> _'Cause it all goes down_

She could do little to resist his strength, but it mattered not as she had no desire to resist anything that he was doing to her. He finished his thrust with a loud grunt, the volume of it entirely muffling her own whimper. There was no further hesitation as he pounded into her, over and over again, knocking her bare back against the wooden wall with each push.

“…  _Fuck_  …” She gasped at one point and his hand found its way to the back of her head, cupping it to protect it from hitting against the wall and he increased his intensity in every way.

“[Mea est.](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Mine.)” He chanted with each movement. “[Semper.](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Always.)”

But even now, with his unrelenting barrage into her body, she could  _feel_  he was still holding back. Even as he  _fucked_  her  _hard_ , he was still in control in all ways. She could tell he was listening to every sound escaping her body and every muscle that tensed or relaxed. If she whimpered too loud or winced, the next drive would be softer but still firm enough. If she held her breath or bit her lip, he would ease back before slowly increasing his rhythm again, his own passion seemingly driving his growing eagerness. And if she grunted or dug her nails into his back, he would go harder, all while staring back into her eyes with unflinching intensity.

She couldn’t help but peer back into him, becoming lost in the paleness of his eyes. She was so lost, in fact, that she didn’t notice at first when he changed his movements, from rough to soft, as he now ground against her hips slowly and with evil intention. It wasn’t until her own body began to burn with hints of culmination that she realized he was enticing  _her_  to a finish.

“What the …” She huffed in minor dismay. “ _Uhhhh_  … not yet …  _not yet_. How do you … already know how  _… Quintus …_ ” She pushed on his arms. If he didn’t stop, she was gonna … oh god, no, not yet. Not already!  _Damnit_. Damn him. Damn this man. It was useless, he was locked onto her and he was …  _chuckling?_

“Because I can  _read_  you …” He breathed into her neck, his body never stopping his motion against hers. “ … like a  _book_ , my dragonfly. You are  _open_  to me …  _fully_  ….”

“No …” She huffed, trying to deny his words and foolishly attempting to push his body away from her. “Wait … don’t …  _not yet …_ ”  _Dammit_ , he was so fucking strong and he kept rubbing.  _Shit._  How did he already know exactly where and what to do– _AH CRAP_. “Fuck …”  _God … damn … him_. He was grinning … that son of a bitch. She tried to move her hips away, but there was something ridiculously hot about him  _refusing to stop_  his grinding and her  _culmination_.

Her nails dug into his back as she came, arching her back and pushing her curves against his warm, scarred chest. He continued to move against her until she done and fully relaxed in his arms, her forehead falling to rest on his shoulder. He stood still for a moment before sliding out of her and easing her back down to the ground.

*Wait, where was he going? He hadn’t finished yet … *

Her legs were weak and they trembled but she held her ground and he pulled away, backing up slowly, watching her as he did. When he was at the couch, he sat back down onto it, never taking his hungry eyes from her body and his hand began to touch the hardness still between his legs.

_Oh … crap. That._

“Come closer …  _please_.” He requested, waving for her to join him with his free hand. He halted his rubbing only long enough to add moisture from his mouth into his palm. His motions were smooth and rhythmic, rubbing his grip up the shaft and then gingerly encompassing the head with a milking action, squeezing himself at the end of the stroke, before returning to the shaft and repeating the action, over and over, his eyes rolling into his skull slightly each time he milked.

She approached, resisting the urge to cover her body from his insatiable eyes. When she was close enough, he reached out with his idle hand and took hers, tugging on her to sit on the couch next to him. She wanted to tell him he didn’t have to do  _this_ , but he had refused that offer already and she would own up to the  _deal_  they made. In fact, her enjoyment of watching this was actually outweighing any embarrassment it might have initially caused.

She sat down on the couch beside him, facing him and he stared at her. Leaning forward, he watched her lips and she met his non-verbal demand and gave them to him. His idle hand gripped her bare breast as his eyes rolled backwards and he shut them entirely while their mouths danced.

The kiss ended when he moaned loudly, pushing his forehead against hers and his motions became faster. Struggling with what to do with herself, she wanted to touch him but at the same time she didn’t want to distract him. Or maybe she did? She wasn’t sure how long this would take, but she was enjoying it quite a bit and she accepted her desire to prolong it. Her right hand touched his warm chest and the fingers of her left ran up the base of his skull.

His eyes rolled in frantic pleasure and his body twitched at the sudden contact of her soft skin. She couldn’t tell if it was because it might have tickled or not, but as she continued to touch him anyways and the look on his face was half agony, half ecstasy. His motion quickened and his breathe became short and panted.

“Come. Come here.” He patted his legs, close to his knees. “On to me. Please …  _here._ ” She complied, straddling him and sitting back against his legs, giving him enough room to work while she continued to touch his bare head. Eventually, he leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, groaning as his lips created a vacuum on it and pulling the blood into it, making it firm between his teeth.

 

* * *

 

She winced because he was sucking far too hard and he released her from his eager mouth immediately. His suction had pulled blood into the nipple and he felt like he could almost taste it through the skin. He shifted his attention back to her eyes and her hands as they danced over his skin.

 _No._  Absolutely not. He did  _not_  associate these two hungers …  ** _ever_**. Feeding and sex were two separate needs and, just like  _any normal human_ , he did not enjoy combining them, as much as that dismayed  _some_  of the more  _disturbing_  humans he had met over his lifetime.

**Besides, she was _not_  food to him nor would she  _ever_  be again.**

He gritted his teeth, finding her soft fingers against his skin both tormenting and wonderful. She traced his stripes, down from his forehead, between his eyes, and across his cheeks. He increased his speed, never tearing his eyes from hers and the pressure building up within his body mounted further. He could finish it now and it would be quick, but he would tease it out. Prolonging the finish would make it last longer and he was enjoying her hands frolicking over his white flesh.

Fighting the desire to replace his hand with hers, he bit into his own mouth as he continued to stroke and her touched trailed down to his neck. His teeth bit deeper into his lip and he snarled menacingly at her and resisted the urge to stop her from touching where he knew she was headed next and neither one stopped their actions. Whatever she wished to do to him right now, she could because he had already surrendered to it. To  _her_  and his body twitched violently the moment her fingers began their path onto and over that  _most_  tender, swirled flesh. He found himself almost disappointed when she didn’t dally there long and finally her hands found their way to his chest.

The pressure built further and his body began to tingle at its extremities. His back arched slightly as his movements increased. His toes curled and his idle hand took a rough grip on her hip, easing her closer, inching her up his legs. His jaw clenched and he tried to curb the building urge. His body began to ache with the desperation of needing to release.

_He pulled her closer. Half an inch. An inch. Two. Closer. Just a little closer to him. Yes … yes …_

It was coming …  _he was coming_. Far beyond the point of no return, he released his grip on himself, seizing her hips with both hands and bringing her up and down over his hardness with calculated precision, grunting loudly as he penetrated. His head just making it past her lips as the first wave rushed out of him and he began to spill into her as he pushed deeper.

 **[I’m on Fire - AWOLNATION](https://open.spotify.com/track/2lthIdb19OihVQMfuPaRZ6)**   

> _It’s like someone took a knife_
> 
> _Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley_
> 
> _Through the middle of my skull_
> 
> _At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet_
> 
> _And a freight train running through the middle of my head_
> 
> _Only you can cool my desire_

“Oooh!” She squealed. She wasn’t expecting it but smiled as she took his face in her hands and he stared up into her eyes, exposed and defenseless to the ecstasy caused by her body against him, around him, open to  _him_ , accepting of  _him_.

 _She was his_. “[Mea est.](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Mine.)” He moaned.

He knew he was grunting. He knew he was rattling. He knew he was twitching. But he couldn’t hear or feel any of it as his mind and body were numb to everything except the part of him that was inside of her. Desperate to get as deep as possible before it was done, his second wave erupted and he looked up into her wide green-eyes with growing vulnerability.

There was no state in which the dhampir was ever more vulnerable than  _this_  one. He was now a willing slave to it. Serene but agonizing, the moment when he felt like his entire body might explode, and his muscles tensed and thrashed in torment. When he felt like he would die from the electricity of it, he also never felt more alive.

His life was devoid of most things  _humans_  found pleasure in. Unable to experience flavors or alcohol or drugs and even the thrill of adrenaline, he could at least feel  _this_ euphoric state and there was something insanely intoxicating about sharing it with someone he loved.

Everything that was happening in the world outside of this couch melted away and his mind was centered on only  _them_ , on simply  _her_. He forgot who he was, what he had to do today, what was coming next.  

> _Right now, there was just this feeling and this need for her._
> 
> _Right now, he was here and she had allowed him into her._
> 
> _Right now, he was humbled by her acceptance._
> 
> _Right now, he was satiated … by her._

The waves weakened and his body finished emptying itself exactly where he wanted, deep within her. When he was done and the pressure was relieved, he rocked forward, pushing his forehead against hers.

“ _Mmmmm_.” He hummed, catching his breath and slowing his heart. He wrapped his arms around her torso, crushing her body against his chest and he burrowed his face into her neck, kissing the scar he had left there. Peace settled over his flesh and mind.

This feeling wasn’t one he was used to, but he knew it nonetheless. He had felt it only a handful of times before.  _He was home again._  Inside of her, all around her, soaking her in. Her auroma, her warmth, her approval. Her love.

**_He was home again … finally._ **

“[Mea est.](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Mine.)” He exhaled. “[In perpetuum.](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/forever)”

 

* * *

 

 **[White Sun - Dawn Golden](https://open.spotify.com/track/50iWjUXSRO5nhNTbngICSX)**   

> _Won’t let girls on the couch where your father died_
> 
> _Laid his dead body in the morning for the kids to find_
> 
> _While hot burning in the warm sun plow of mine_
> 
> _So Suddenly you watched bruised wrists and the kids to find_

They dozed on the couch. She laid across his chest and stared up into his eye while he gazed back, running his fingers over her head and tucking the wayward wisps of hair behind her ear. He wasn’t sure how long they had been like this, but it was tranquil and neither moved to disturb it.

“I like the way you look at me.” He said as his eyes darted from her lips to her nose to her eyes and then back to her lips again.

“Oh? Since when?”

“I have liked it since you first laid eyes on me.”

“And how do I look at you?” She seemed almost concerned and her brows pinched as she attempted to  _change_  the way she looked at him now and he smiled.

“Like I am a man.” He stated and she now looked confused, her face scrunching to a point as she furrowed her nose. “Like I am worthy of your attention.”

Shaking her head back and forth slowly, she disagreed with him completely. “No.”

“No?” He asked and his smile faded a bit, but only a bit. He enjoyed the playfulness of the conversation but the implication saddened him. “You do not see me  _as a man_? Or is it that I am  _not_  worthy of your attention?”

“I’ve never looked at you like you were  _a man_.” She stared down to his mouth. Her right hand gingerly came up, touching the corner of his pointed cheekbone. “Trust me. This isn’t how I look at  _men_.”

“Is it not?” He supposed that might be true. She looked at him quite differently than she did  _any_  of the others. “Then what is it? How do you see me?”

“I don’t look at you like you are a  _man_.” Her soft touch moved back to graze the very top point of his ear. “Because you’re so much more than just a man and …” Touching the very tip of his nose she grinned and he resisted the urge to nip at her finger. “You are worthy of  _anyone’s_  attention.”

For the first time since they had arrived, there was an eerie quiet across the cabin, only the fire crackled and he turned, gazing at the window. The wind had  _finally_  stopped. Suddenly and completely. He didn’t wish to verbalize his next thought, but he did anyways. “The  _storm_  is passing …”

“What time is it?” Her body shuddered.

“There is an hour of daylight left.” He said, confidence rich in his voice. “Maybe less …”

She stirred in his embrace, gripping his body and pulling him as tightly to her as she could. “Don’t let me fall asleep again.”

He said nothing in response. He could only stare at the fire and by the time she was already sleep, he didn’t bother to wake her. He wouldn’t let her sleep long, he just needed to do something first. Something he knew she would fight him on.

He delicately pulled her hand away from his torso and slipped up and away from the couch. When he had been searching for the towel earlier, he had seen what he wanted. In the kitchen, he fished the notepad and pen out of a drawer and sat down at the tiny table.

He hesitated at first, staring at the blank page. He  _knew_  she would be angry. He knew because  _he_  would have been angry, but he needed the assurance that she would be cared for. He  _needed_  this to push forward and do what Barqan had told him was the  _only option_ , but that didn’t alleviate the guilt that rushed over him when he pushed the pen down onto the pad.

He looked back to her, sleeping quietly on the couch and put his hand to his forehead. She would be  _angry_ , but it didn’t matter, did it? He would already be gone by the time she realized …

Quintus’ hand trembled and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

_Why? Why did it have to happen like this? Why did Fate play with him so?_

He stood, dropping the pen and returned to the couch, crouching and gazing upon the sleeping woman for a moment before he spoke. “ _Libellula_?” He asked in nothing more than a whisper, his voice shaking. Was he actually  _nervous_? Yes. Incredibly so.  ** _Wildy so_**. Child-like anxiety danced across his mind. “ _Libellula_?”

“ _Mmmmm … He calls me that …_ ” Though she acknowledged him, she was clearly sleeping and he swallowed hard, not wishing to wake her fully.

“Ms. Maxwell?” He kissed her hand. It was a simple kiss, delicately placed on her exposed knuckle and she stirred. He wanted to wake her so badly, but he knew he shouldn’t. He wanted to see her eyes, but there wasn’t time.

“ _Mmmmm. That’s me._ ” She was very much asleep. Perhaps he should rouse her, but he didn’t think she would find his plan appealing. He knew  _he_  wouldn’t like it and so he chose to let her sleep instead.

“ _Will you marry me?_ ” It was an even softer whisper than the first and he waited for some reaction. He had  _never_  asked anyone before. Tasa was  _purchased_  for this purpose. She was more than compliant, but it was still implicit. He had never  _asked .._. His heart thundered.

“ _Mmmmm … Quintus_  …” It was just a simple murmur. Then her mouth curled up into a tiny grin before she was still again and he stared, wide eyed. For a moment, he was uncertain how he should proceed.

 _Well … It was not a_   ** _no_**.  _Good enough_.

Shrugging, he returned to the table and wrote the letter to Ferraro. He sprinkled a couple of things that only  _he_  and  _Antonio_  knew about, then he threw in a few veiled threats to the man’s family. He had known Ferraro since he was born and he  _knew_  the man’s assumed cleverness might get the better of him. The only thing that outweighed Antonio’s greed was his  _fear_  of Quintus.

He stared at the words on the page and decided to add one more threat at the bottom. Just to be safe, he added it to the end before he signed his name.  

> _[Proprio come ho protetto la tua famiglia per generazioni, sarebbe nell'interesse di tutti che fai lo stesso con la mia fino al mio ritorno.](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Just%20as%20I%20have%20protected%20your%20family%20for%20generations%2C%20it%20would%20be%20in%20everyone%27s%20best%20interest%20that%20you%20do%20the%20same%20with%20mine%20until%20my%20return.) _


	74. 10.1 - Ouroboros

**[Ash - Secession Studios](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0Z6c6eKloKEBzjpvMFa6HW&t=Zjg4NjExN2U2MzU2NjVjYzZlNWExZTEzY2Y1MzJmNmRmMDAzOWZhOSxEbzdFdTAxNQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167208222413%2Fchapter-101-ouroboros&m=1)**  

He had to  _force_  himself to breath again and then  _again_. It wasn’t reflexive yet, and he laid in the dirt doing so for several minutes. Eventually he reached his hands around in the dirt for something to help him stand, but there was nothing. He attempted to open his eyes again, but the brightness was crippling and he shut them again tightly. It was  _so bright_ , even though he knew it was  _night_.

Everything was so vibrant, sharp, intense, and  _painful_. He had forgotten how harsh Earth was and how peaceful Heaven had been. No, that wasn’t it exactly. He had forgotten how  _dull_  Heaven was. When he had first arrived there, everything felt …  _numb_.

But he had no regrets, because even now, his body trembling with tenderness, he accepted that with the return of  _pain_  and all the terrible afflictions of the flesh, there was also the return of all the  _good_  things. Heaven had been peaceful, yes, but ultimately dull.

Pushing himself up to his elbows, he tried to sit up but instead he opted to just collapse into the dusty ground again. His muscles were on fire and his  _hunger_  raged. He had  _never_  felt as famished as he did now. It was in this mad haze of craving, he almost missed the distant sound of an engine humming.

_A boat._

As he listened to it approaching from a great distance, he caught the first whiff of  _human blood_  that accompanied it. He could hear at least three distinct hearts and the smallest of grins tugged at the very corner of his mouth as he picked up something familiar in the scent of one of the men.

 _It was_   ** _Ursa_**.

_He was a bear._

* * *

“Ah … “ He put her arms high above her head and stretched, breathing out a sigh of relief as he did. “ _That’s so much better_.”

He stepped out of the cabin and took another deep and joyful breath of the air outside as he stretched her neck from side to side, cracking it as he grinned madly.

First things first. He needed to get the hell out of this country. He would need to set up travel. As he walked back towards the rental car, he fished her phone out of her pocket and flicked it to the call history. Just as he was about to tap on Ferraro’s name, the sky above flicked for less than a second. A purple hue lit up all of the clouds for just a fraction of a moment and then everything went dark again.

He stared up, closing her eyes and feeling the traces of divinity in the air. Then, two seconds passed and there was the clap of distant thunder.

“Hmmm. Tricky tricky, brother …” He looked down at the phone, considering the risk of calling anyone and then sighed. “But you’re already too late.”

Chucking the phone out into the wilderness, he hiked the short distance back to the vehicle and started the engine with excitement. As he pulled out, he hummed to himself again and again. “Tricky tricky, brother … too late. Too late.”

 

* * *

 

 **[The Way (Instrumental) - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5tLvVku5CuJQahuywJHpHn&t=YzhlN2ZkMGI0NmJiY2Q5MGIyMjNkMjQzNWFiMGRkN2NkOWNmMDg5MixEbzdFdTAxNQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167208222413%2Fchapter-101-ouroboros&m=1)**  

“Come on. It was  _just_  lightning,  _Little Bear_.” The shortest of the three men complained again as he steered the boat towards their destination. It was a cold night and he zipped up his jacket, rubbing his arms as a nervous feeling began to swell in the pit of his stomach. “We should go back. This is a bad time to be out here, man.”

“No. That wasn’t  _just lightning_.” George countered. “ Lightning isn’t …  _purple_.”

“We’re cutting it too close to the patrol time. This ain’t good.”

Two Paws was right. They were cutting it too close. Venturing into the quarantine zone was always risky and the soldiers would be making their nightly rounds soon, but it didn’t matter.  _This_  was why they were here, after all. This  _was_  the charge of their people. He turned to the quiet lanky man, with the hawk-like eyes, standing at the front of the boat. “And you’re  _sure_  this is where it struck?” The man nodded.

As they approached the rocky side of the tiny island, the boat’s speed slowed and the pilot turned, beginning to make a circle around it.

George flicked his spotlight on, pointing it at the shore and scanning.

“I don’t like this …” Two Paws stared out into the darkness of the lake, sniffing the cold air. “Something doesn’t feel right. We should come back in the morning.”

George fought his budding desire to suggest the same, turning to his lanky companion. “You  _sure_  you saw it strike here? On  _this_  island?” Of all places …  _this island_? 

Jacks nodded again and George sighed. “Yeah.”

“Come on. Our duty is the  _lake_ , not this god forsaken island–”

“ _YOU_  wanna tell the  _Great Fire_  that we didn’t check this out? That something came down from the Heavens  _onto_  the  _Black Site_  itself and we just …  _let it slide_? We just …  _came back in the morning?_ ” George squinted at the rocks, moving the bright light from side to side. “You want to tell him? If you wanna tell him, we can head ba–”

“No.” Two Paws pouted as a drizzle of rain began to fall and he pulled his hood up, sneering even more. “Great … now it’s raining.”

They made one pass of the island and George shook his head, taking a  _deep_  breath and cursing the rain for masking everything. He thought he smelled something …  _familiar_.

“Good enough? Let’s go. I got a bad feeling.”

 _Yeah._  Exactly. He had a bad feeling too.  _Like something was … something was watching them_. He could  _feel_  it. George stared out across the rocks again, sweeping the light from left to right and back again. Just more rocks, or so he thought until Jacks motioned, pointing suddenly to an outcropping of the farthest part of the shore. Moving the spotlight across the area, George could see steam rising from one of the less jagged stones.

“Wait … What the fuck is that?” Two Paws asked, his mouth dropping wide and Jacks drew his pistol, pointing it at the distant shape silently.

“Get a little closer.” George demanded as he drew his own side arm and held it alongside the light, aiming it at the object, just in case. 

If it hadn’t been for the rain sizzling and evaporating as soon as it hit the rock, they would have missed it entirely. As they slowly approached, he could see it wasn’t jagged at all, but smooth. Completely smooth in fact and …  _did it have shoulders?_

Swallowing hard, his eyes widened when they were finally close enough to see that it was, indeed, the outline of a  _person_ , crouched amongst the rocks, staring at them intently and not moving an inch, except for the small heaving motion of its breathing.

“Hooooooooooleeeeeeeeeeee shit …” George whispered as recognition washed over him and the figure finally moved, shielding  _his_  eyes from the intensity of the approaching spotlight. “ ** _Mr. Quinlan_**?”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t like dat look on yer face.” Fet’s brows pinched together as he watched his wife stare down at her laptop screen from his seat across from her on the private plane. “What’s goin’ on now, huh?”

“Got another hit … ” She swallowed hard.

“Isn’t that a  _good thing_ , no?” She didn’t look like it was a  _good thing_.

“Stronger than anything we’ve seen so far. Stronger than …  _Rome_. Stronger than … ” Stronger than what they had  _just_  seen geolocate at the factory several hours before.

“Where now?” Fet pressed, glancing over to Thomas who patiently listened from his own row of seats behind them.

“Not far from where we’re headed, actually.”

“Dat’s good then.” His childlike optimism showing through. Fet was getting tired of chasing Dawn all around the globe, but the look on his wife’s face assured him it  _wasn’t_  good.

She had geolocated something powerful at that  _same_  factory where they had first discovered Dawn, but this was something much  _stronger_  than even that. Dutch spun the screen around to face him. He looked at the map and the new geolocations that had sprung up on it. Two ominous circles. One centered on Lake Onondaga and the other …

“Is dat …” Fet trailed off.

“Yeah … It is.” She spun her screen back. “Ground Zero, love.”

_The Black Site._

“ _Ah … crap. What da hell is next?!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 **[The Zoo - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4UcRqLT5b4cDy5fIi3DI1k&t=NTExOTBlMDExNGUwZTBmZDU1OTUxYjZhMGY3M2NhZWQ3MTBjYzU4YSxEbzdFdTAxNQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167208222413%2Fchapter-101-ouroboros&m=1)**  

He was  _much_  heavier than he looked, but George had the strength of a bear and he pulled the dhampir up from the rocks with ease. Leaning heavily against him, it didn’t seem like Quinlan could stand on his own and George pulled his arm up and around his broad shoulders as they splashed back to the boat.

“Is  _that_  who I think it is?” Two Paws asked from behind the steering wheel and no one offered a response. “I thought he was  _dead_. The Great Fire said he was …  _dead_.”

Jacks offered a hand out to aid George in pulling the dhampir into the boat and Quinlan was almost entirely limp as he let the men push and pull him up as if he was nothing more than a rag doll. Once within, he collapsed onto the floor and then pulled himself into a tight ball, wrapping his arms around his knees and rocking slightly from front to back, his deep breathing causing an eerie strigoi rattle with each exhale.

George pushed the boat out into the deep water before jumping back in. He looked down, kneeling to address their new passenger as they began to speed away. “Mr. Quinlan?”

Quinlan gave no response.

“How did you get out here?”

He only continued to rock back and forth gently, his face buried behind his knees. The rain still sizzled as it hit his skin and George quickly pulled off his leather jacket, turning it around and attempting to drape it over the dhampir’s back.

Quinlan moved with lightning speed, grabbing one of George’s forearms to halt the action and his eyes locking onto the man’s conveying an intimidating warning. He  _finally_  spoke, sneering at the gesture. “ ** _Hot_**  …”

“Yeah, I see that …” George could not only  _see_  it from the steam still rising off the strigoi’s body, but he had  _felt_  the heat emanating from the man’s pale skin as he had helped him from the rocks. “You’re  _burning up_  … but you’re also  _very, very naked_.” George looked down and then back up, blushing at Quinlan’s fully exposed glory.

The dhampir twitched, looked down at his body and then nodded  _once_ , releasing his hold on the man’s arm and George finishing draping the jacket over his shoulders. He pulled it around the dhampir and Quinlan looked down, hiding his face again as he began to rock again. “How long have you been out here? This whole time?”

Quinlan shook his head once. “ ** _New_**  …”

“New? What’s new?” Little Bear scratched his head. “Where have you been, man? How did you get out here?”

 _Nothing_. The dhampir rocked and rattled. Twitched and tensed. Inhaled and exhaled.

George sighed. “Do you remember me?”

Quinlan nodded once.

“It’s Quinlan, right? Is that right?”

Another single nod.

“Not feelin’ talkative? Is there somewhere we can take you?”

“ ** _Hungry_**  …” Quinlan looked up into his eyes and then his gaze darted back down to the ground as he rocked again, his hands clenching the sides of the coat and pulling it closed around him.

George didn’t particularly like that response and he fought his animalistic instinct to back away. This man, strigoi …  _Thunder_  … had saved his life. He had saved the lives of  _many_  of his clan that night, over a year ago, when they had first met and he would afford him the benefit of the doubt, regardless of  _what_  he was. “The  _Great Fire_  told us you were dead.”

Looking up, the dhampir’s lips curled into a sneer as his nostrils flared. His words were angry and George felt a shiver go down his spine. “ ** _Fire_**  …”

“Do you remember him?” George prodded.

“ ** _Phone_**  …” Quinlan put his hand out, palm up. “ ** _Now_**  …”

George patted his pant leg, letting him know he did have one, but he shook his head. “Won’t do any good right now.” He waved around them.

“ ** _Phone_**  …” Quinlan repeated and shoved his hand towards the man again.

“I can give it to you, but the blast took out the towers. Well, it took out pretty much everything. It won’t work until we get back to the reservation … We have a repeater set up there.”

“ ** _Blast_**  …” Quinlan repeated slowly and nodded once, pulling his hand back to his body and gripping his knees.

“Yeah man …  _the blast_. Remember it? I sure as hell do. Do you remember …  _do you remember the bomb_?”

It looked like the dhampir might answer, but his head turned sharply to the right and stared out into the dark water ahead of them. As George met the direction of his gaze, Jacks stepped forward, peering out across the still water with his enhanced sight.

“Head’s up.” Two Paws confirmed. “We’ve got company.”

A powerful light clicked on in the distance, bobbing up and down as it barrelled towards them over the surface of the water.

“Ah …  _fuck_  …” George huffed. 

“Told ya.” Two Paws said.

 

* * *

 

The boat bobbed up and down and Quinlan struggled with the motion of it and  _all_  the other senses that bombarded him. When he heard the other motor approaching, he cringed at first. He thought he wasn’t in the shape to be useful to them, should it come to that, but then he smelled the  _blood_  and his body stirred with violent intentions.

Little Bear reached out and pulled the hood on his jacket over Quinlan’s head. “Stay down.”

As it quickly approached, he could hear there were four hearts beating. The wind blew and he could smell them clearly. Four men. No, that wasn’t right. Three men and a woman. They were all heavily armed.

Their spotlight was much bigger and mounted on the front of their vehicle, which was also much larger and faster than the one they were in now. The light flooded over him and he winced, pulling the jacket down further around his face to shield his eyes from the sudden onslaught of intensity.

“This is the US Navy.” A male voice thundered through a megaphone and Quinlan cupped his hands over his ears from the sudden volume. “Everyone keep your hands where we can see them and prepare to be boarded.”

“ _Great_.” Little Bear muttered.

The boat rocked slightly and Quinlan opened his eyes finally, forcing himself to adjust to everything. He needed to see what was occuring. Two of the soldiers, in full body suits, armed with assault rifles, and masks covering their faces, had stepped into the hull of the small boat. The two others remained behind. One manning the spotlight and the other pointing a weapon at the three Onondagan men.

“What’re you doing inside the exclusion zone?” The male of the two visitors demanded.

“Fishing.” Little Bear said innocently and unbelievably. Quinlan heard the man’s muscles tense and he wondered what the  _other_  two men might be capable of. Taking a deep breath, he smelled a  _hawk_  and a  _wolf_.

“Fishing? Are you serious?” The female soldier scoffed at the statement. “The lake is  _dead_.”

“Yeah. We see that  _now_.” Little Bear tried to play the fool. “No harm, no foul?”

“Uh huh.” The male prodded. “And where’s your  _fishing_  gear?”

“Right here.” Little Bear held out his  _bare_  hands, chuckling while he spoke. “We like to do it the  _old-fashioned_  way, you know.” He smiled. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a  _cultural_ thing.”

“Do you realize the amount of radiation you’re exposing yourselves to right now?” The female soldier questioned.

“Eh …” Little Bear shrugged gently. “We aren’t worried. It doesn’t really bother us.”

“Yeah, ok. Radiation … doesn’t  _bother_  you?” She was in disbelief of his nonchalant attitude toward the health risks. “You guys  _dumb_  or something?”

The lanky man spoke. “The Great Fire’s gift protects us from  _many_  things.”

“OK. Yeah. They aren’t dumb. They just  _idiots_. Fucking looters.” The male soldier was no longer amused. “You’re inside the exclusion zone. That’s a felony. You’re all coming with us.”

“How’d you even get past the perimeter fencing?” The female seemed to be more curious than annoyed, but her question would go unanswered.

The man reached out and attempted to grab Little Bear’s arm and the bear-man pulled it back with incredible strength as he warned, pointing a finger in the masked face. “Don’t touch me man. This ain’t gonna end well for you.”

Reading it as a sign of aggression, the woman aimed her gun at Little Bear and he put his hands up, palms facing her in a surrendering manner. The Onondaga were strong. Formidable warriors, but even they were not bulletproof. At least, not like Quinlan was. The dhampir took a deep breath and doubted if his muscles would even follow his commands should things need to get …  _messy_.

Her companion grabbed one of Little Bears wrists, turning him around and pulling his arms behind his back. Producing a pair of handcuffs from his belt, he began to restrain the brave, making the metal rings tight on his prisoner’s wrists. Quinlan doubted the metal would hold the warrior. The third soldier stepped onto the boat to provide further assistance with restraining the other two men and that only left the soldier manning the spotlight  _out_  of Quinlan’s immediate reach.

“You’re all in violation of  _Federal Law_. You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent–”

“Rights?! You wanna talk about  _rights_?!” Little Bear laughed as the man spun him back and they faced each other again. “ ** _You_**  have no right to be here. This is  _our land_  and it’s  _our charge_  to defend it for all mankind. You think you have the right to keep us from it?”

“ _This land_  is the property of the  _Federal Government_.” The soldier stated firmly. “It’s for your own  _damn protection_ , I swear you assholes get dumber–”

The lanky man piped up again. “This land is  _our_  responsibility.  _It_  was gifted to us by the great Thunder  _Hinon_ –”

 _Hinon. Michael._  The mention of his name sent a flash of the angel’s visage across the dhampir’s memory and then he remembered  _Dawn’s_  face and the rainbow eyes within it. This was taking too long. Quinlan twitched uncontrollably and the female spun around, taking note of the huddled mass for the first time as she aimed directly at him.

“Who’s there?” She demanded, peering into the darkness. “Stand up. Stand the fuck up! Hands where I can see them!”

Quinlan remained still.

“Hey …” She stepped forward and nudged his foot with her boot but he made no movement. “Hey! Stand up!  _Stand the fuck up! FERGUSON! SHINE THE LIGHT! OVER HERE!_ ” She pointed.

Quinlan remained still, even as the light lit him up. The jacket shielded his head and face, but his overly white legs were visible.

“What’s wrong with him?” The male soldier questioned, peering over the brave’s shoulder at the huddle mass.

“Uhhhh … him? Nothin’ He’s harmless. Just feelin’ kinda sea sick … “ Little Bear hesitated. “ … Maybe you’re right? Maybe it’s the radiation?”

“What the  _fuck_  … ” The third soldier uttered, squinting at the shape with growing scrutiny. “What the  _fuck … is that a … is that …_ ”

“Mister, I swear to everything  _holy_ , if you don’t stand  _the fuck up_  right now, I’m gonna …” She threatened and Quinlan brought his head up slowly, exposing his eyes to her first and then his entire face. He heard her take a deep breath in as she squinted through her goggles. “Holy fuck … It’s a  _strig_! IT’S A STRIG!  **STRIG**!!!”

“Oh god …”

“Light ‘em up, boys!”

Her finger tried to squeeze the trigger and he grinned as he was already to his feet, everything slowing around him as he moved. His hand was already holding her finger, halting its ability to compress the trigger, and, most importantly, his stinger was already wedged deep within her neck. He never liked to take  _deep, long_  pulls, as it was quite painful, but he pulled firmly from her, hard and fast, stealing her life into his famished body.

 ** _Blood_**  … Waves of sweet relief washed across his flesh and his body went from starving agony to blissful ecstasy as he drank and drank  _and drank_ , swallowing every ounce that her body could afford him.  _Finally_. Spinning her around while he took his fill, his hands held her in place by her shoulders, using her as a shield against her companions just in case they might decide to shoot him regardless of his proximity to her.

“Put her down! Ah fuck! LET HER GO!” Her companions screamed in unison.

He really could have taken  _any_  of them first, but his choice of the woman was mercilessly calculated.

First, the men wouldn’t be so inclined to  _shoot_  her. In all of his years in the military, he had learned it was difficult to keep female soldiers alongside the males. It wasn’t that women didn’t make good soldiers, but rather, that men treated them differently. They tended to protect them more and he would use that to his advantage right now. They could only stare in shock as he finished her in front of them.

Second, being a woman in a male dominated field, she was likely a better soldier than  _any_  of them. She was likely better trained, a better shot, and being a  _female_  soldier, chances were, she needed to  _prove_  herself. Unlike her companions, he had no doubts she would  _not_  have hesitated to shoot him  _through_  any of them as they were hesitating now.

“OH FUCK! LET HER GO!!! FUCK!”

Taking the last pulls of her life, he accepted the assault rifle from her grip as her body went limp, and he chucked it like a spear into the spotlight, letting the protective shield of darkness envelop them the moment the woman’s heart stopped. He let her body fall to the ground with a thud before he descended with god-like speed upon the third soldier, his stinger precise and ruthless.

The Onondaga were quick to react and the wolf-man was already into the other boat, holding a pistol on the soldier behind the light. Little Bear was already out of the handcuffs, pulling them apart like they were nothing more than paper to him, clocking the man who had just tried to restrain him. The soldier crumpled under the preternatural strength of his blow and he pulled the assault rifle from his grip, pointing it at the soldier as a warning to  _stay down_.

It all happened in a matter of seconds and Little Bear watched in complete horror as Quinlan turned to the man at the Onondagan’s feet and fed for the third time. 

“Jesus …” The wolf-man uttered from the other boat, his gun still aimed at the trembling soldier who was now the only one alive. Quinlan did not delay, dropping his third victim and stepping across to the better vehicle, approaching his final victim. “… Christ …”

“Please …” The young man begged. “I have a  _family_. I have a  _wife_  and–”

“I am sorry,  _Ferguson_.” Recalling the name the female soldier had used, Quinlan apologized, as he normally did, when it was necessary for him to kill ruthlessly. “ ** _But so do I_**.”

An internal conflict raged in the wolf-man and Quinlan could see the consideration of aiming his gun at the dhampir, but Quinlan never broke strode, feeding for a fourth and  _final_  time while the animal men watched in silent horror.

The agony was gone. His body coursed with the power the new blood afforded him and he was now breathing on his own again. He stood up tall and stretched his neck to the side, taking in a deep breath before he surveyed the aftermath of his carnage.

All in all, he was quite pleased with the outcome. Not a single shot was fired and now he had weapons … and  _clothing_. The Onondaga were just as he remembered. Warriors of the  _highest order_  and they did not disappoint. He looked at the dead men, deciding the one right before him was the closest proportions and he began to strip the body.

He disliked fatigues, but at least they were dark camo. They would be fine until he could get to a safe house. After he took the desired clothing, he next targeted all of the weapons. Pistols, belts, knives, ammunition, and rifles. He could tell the men were uncomfortable with what just occurred and they watched, dumbfounded and unable to move until he was done with his pilfering. He dumped the bodies over the side, one by one.

“Is the boat yours? Can it be traced back to you?” He questioned, his ability to speak returning with the  _blood_.

“No. We took it from a house on the shore.” Little Bear said lowly.

Quinlan nodded and stepped back to the slower boat, bending down and puncturing it with one of his newly acquired blades. They would take the faster boat. Plus, he liked the gun mounted on the front of it, just in case they ran into more  _trouble_.

He stared at the two men still standing in their now sinking boat and he cocked his head to the right. “Well? Are we going?”

 

* * *

**[End of an Era (Our Humanity) - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4VsK1ox5Wcx4ONg5H7aNbE&t=NGQ0ZmY2ZGM4NTNlNWE1YWU1YzUxMGYzYzFjMDgxNGU0ZjU2MjI4ZSxEbzdFdTAxNQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167208222413%2Fchapter-101-ouroboros&m=1)**  

The newer boat rocketed across the water and Quinlan stood at the front, keeping an eye on everything around them. Every couple of seconds, he looked down at the phone in his hands, hoping for the tiniest hint of a signal connection.

The soldier had been right. The lake  _was_  very dead. Everything was completely quiet compared to the last time he was here. Eventually life would take hold again and flourish in the area, but not quite yet. It would take years. He looked back towards the  _Black Site_  one last time before it was a out of view and he understood the importance of everything and he was immensely  _grateful_.

He was returned. He was back.  _It had all come full circle_  and he was reborn, in the same place that  _his father_ ,  _The Master_ , had been no less. The cycle of life and death had never felt more endless than it did in this serene moment. Most would be deterred by this revelation, but he was not. He was reinvigorated as he remembered what  _motivated him_.

The brave stood idly behind him for some time, but he made no motion to acknowledge him until the man spoke first.

“Still …” He swallowed hard. “ _Hungry_?”

“Do not worry. I have never much cared for the taste of  _bear_.” Quinlan quipped without turning around to face the man, but his attempt at humour did nothing to diffuse the man’s unease.

“Did you  _have_  to kill them?”

Without hesitation, Quinlan answered. “ _Yes_. It is better  _no witnesses_  are left.” He stepped forward and stood beside him, peering out over the water. “That is, unless you prefer to spend your life in a jail cell?”

Little Bear considered the words carefully and nodded once. Quinlan wasn’t disappointed in the man. In fact, quite the opposite. He was relieved that his savage actions had affected them so much. It meant they were  _good men_ , and good men were always useful soldiers. Far better than the treacherous ones.

Quinlan had no room for regret in his life any longer. He had considered the existence of the afterlife many times in his first life, but that was no longer in question. In a way, this revelation made Quinlan far more dangerous than he ever was before. Death was not as bad as he assumed and he would no longer hesitate to deliver swift judgement on  _anyone_  who might get in his way.

“And …  _we_  have more important things than  _human morality_  to worry about right now.” This did little to ease Little Bear’s conscience. “Besides, I have learned I am  _not_  bound by the same rules that govern your mortal souls.”

“Ok then …” The man feared him now.  _Good_. “That’s a little  _dark_  … ”

“If they had  _good souls_ , then the afterlife is not as bad place to find one’s self. If they did not …” Quinlan shrugged. “Then it’s better they have moved on, yes?”

“That’s kind of a twisted way of looking at  _life_  …” The man leaned against the railing and shook his head. “And death …”

“You consider yourself a  _soldier_ ,  _Little Bear_ , do you not?” Quinlan turned to face the man and they locked eyes.

“We’re all soldiers here.” Little Bear nodded.

“Yes. And, as soldiers, we are not privy to live the world as civilians do. Where they are allowed to live in a world of  _black_  and  _white_.  _Trust me on this_ ,  _survival_  dictates that  ** _we_** must live it in shades of gray.” 

“But … they were just soldiers too, they didn’t deser–”

Quinlan interrupted and shifted his attention back to the water. “Yes. They were. And soldiers die in  _war_. This is just fact. I have no doubt that those men would have killed you without a second thought. And,  ** _I assure you_** , they had  _every_  intention to  _kill_  me without hesitation.”

“War?” Little Bear sighed. “But I thought the war was over …”

“Unfortunately, it had not yet even begun …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might not remember, _Little Bear_ is from Chapter 16 of A Savage Inconvenience.


	75. Visual Aid - Scrutinize 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is coming, but it is slow. I hope that this recent Quinlan fan art will hold you over. Thank you, Morgan (LadyKadilion), your contributions to the fandom continue to motivate and inspire me!
> 
> Please see her tumblr blog, linked below, for the full NSFW version. Enjoy!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ

## Full Art here:[@quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/167290393210/i-am-not-even-sorry-i-was-talking-with-my-dear)


	76. 10.2 - Ouroboros

He needed to get to his brothers. He had to get to Gabriel before he did something he  _knew_  his brother would regret forever. But he needed to pick something up on the way. He could hear the commotion before he could even see the scene far below him. As he pulled his wings in tight to rocket down, he smirked.

“Cowards!” Sempronius’ voice thundered with menace as he stepped forward and the Bene Elohim crowd surrendered a step backwards to match his advance. “These are the great Bene Elohim!? Do you all lack the fortitude to challenge me?!”

Raphael landed hard between the two and the impact cratered the stone around him. Sempronius retreated a single step and stood up straight, the blade waning in his grip as he swallowed hard. Raphael loved that moment of sweet and bitter intimidation whenever he  _flexed_  his power. He locked eyes with the man, flashing his fangs with an wide and toothy smile.

“Cowards? I would say they are more  _pragmatic_  than cowardly.” The angel explained, though he knew he didn’t need to. Sempronius was obviously bluffing; the angel could read his body language easily. “It is quite rare to be faced with  _utter_  destruction, after all.” Raphael’s eyes locked onto the blade and he reached an open palm out. “I’ll need that now, Sempronius.  _Please_.”

“I …” Hesitation. The centurion looked down at the blade and deep thought spread across his face as he considered his options very carefully and Raphael waited patiently. “I can’t let you pass …” He said finally, his eyes meeting Raphael’s as his brow furrowed. “…  ** _Indigo Son._** ”

 _Hmmmm. Well … hmmmm. Clever, clever … clever boy … clever father._  Raphael couldn’t help but smirk wider at the secret jab. He wondered just how many people knew his secret now.

“I’m afraid you’ll find … You simply  _can’t_  stop me … not even with that  _trinket._ ” Raphael began to walk, closing the distance between them with strides so confident they caused Sempronius to take a defensive stance. In any other situation, at any other time, he would have simply taken the blade from him, but the Bene Elohim were watching. He had to be careful. The need to play boths sides was still  _very_  important. It was unclear  _how much_  Sempronius might know, and he needed to control the flow of information.

The blade shook as the man’s arm trembled at the angel’s swift advancement. “I do apologize for this. I don’t normally get …  _physical_.” Raphael swatted the weapon to the side, knocking it out of the man’s hand as he grabbed a handful of Sempronius’ shirt and bowling him across the ground, to the feet of the Puriel. “Take him to the stockade … Let  ** _no one speak_**  with him until I arrive.”

Puriel was nodding at the comment when Raphael heard the metal of the blade scrape across the ground as it was lifted behind him and he already knew who wielded it now. He fought the desire to chuckle with growing entertainment.

“ _Hello Honoria._ ” He said before he turned to greet her with warmth as he locked his fingers calmly behind him.

“ _Hello Raphael._ ” She smirked as her grip on the weapon’s handle tightened and he heard the muscles in her body tense with sweet anticipation of the impending scuffle.

Amused, he smiled back at her. “You will not win.”

“Oh … Don’t be absurd. Of course not.” She winked wickedly, shrugging innocently as she did. “But the point is  _not_  to win.”

“It is not? Then, pray tell, what  _is_  the point?” His hands dropped from their interlaced position as he began to circle the woman. He  _knew_  she was good.  _No_. He  _knew_  she was  _the best … human_ , but even  _that_  hadn’t been fair to the  _men_  around her, had it? _Crystal child. Child of Fire._  When she was only sixteen years old, she’d  _fought_  and  _beaten_  a fallen hayyoth after all. Well … 1/7th of one. Still, an impressive feat regardless of  _who_  she  _really_  was. An impressive feat regardless of  _what_  she  _actually_ was.

“The point should never be to win.” She explained to him as she circled. “The moment it is, is the moment you’ve already lost.” Was this a lesson?  _Yes_. And he loved it. She couldn’t beat him, but he loved that she was going to give it her all.

She had always been one of his  _most_  cherished halfling  _Indigo Children_. Child of fire. Child of the sun. Only daughter of [Al-Mubhib](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FAl-Mazhab&t=ZjI1ZjZmY2UxZWRiNWJjNjk2OTFjNWY5YmYxMDY3OTVmZGI3M2FlNixDdnpxaURmRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167470305003%2F102-ouroboros&m=1),  _The Golden King_ ,  ** _the Eternal Devourer of Snakes_**. Even from the first moment of her birth, when he had looked down upon her in his loving embrace, he knew she would be important. He had placed a hand upon the very top of her tiny head, hidden under the mass of her wild golden hair and obfuscated her. When Ozryel had uttered  _her name_  in that cell, everything made  _painful_ sense.  _Quintus was unique, because he wasn’t like the four who came before. Not even close …_

“Quite right.” He nodded and stepped around her as she did the same to him. “But then tell me …  _what_   ** _is_**   _the point?_ ”

“The point is to say that I at least  _tried_.” She lunged forward with more speed than he had ever seen …  _from a human_. As he stepped to the side and the celestial blade cut up, inches from his face, he smiled even wider, enjoying her words. “That when he needed me, I can assure  _myself_  I was  _there_.”

“Very true.” He agreed before she lunged at him again.

 

* * *

 

Hathų had experienced  _real_  fear only a handful of times during her short existence. Being able to speak to those who had passed, she was never afraid of death as she knew the afterlife existed and she knew it would be kind to her. Being descended from  _Two Rivers_ , she was always protected from physical harm by the greatest  _Thunder, Hinon_. And being able to see the future, she always felt somewhat immune to anything  _fate_  might throw at her.

But in this agonizing moment, as she stared at the still water less than two feet away, she  _feared_  and her body shuddered in response to it. Every decision, every choice, flashed across her mind and she bit back her tears. Her soul might be eternal but those waters could take everything that made her  _who_  she is. Everything that made her …  ** _her_**.

Her angel captor paced as he grew more impatient, staring up the winding staircase as he walked back and forth. She watched carefully and quietly from her position on the ground and his face contorted with so many emotions, she couldn’t read what he was really thinking … at first.

“Gabriel–” She eventually tried to reason with him. The words were hard to utter, but she forced them out.

“Shut up.” He spat back. “I want to hear nothing from  _you_. You are all  _liars_.  _ALL OF YOU._ ”

“Gabriel, please. I–” She tried again.

“You’re words are poison. You are as much of a hypocrite as  _he_  is!” He sneered with vicious intonation. “Keep it up. I don’t have a problem with  _gagging_  you … though probably not in the same way my brother does.”

 _Ew. EW. Gross and childish buffoon …_  She resisted the urge to bark back an insult at him. It wouldn’t help the situation to be as childish as he was. And though she did  _not_ like his tone or his words, she finally saw it, so very clear in his eyes. It wasn’t obedience or injustice that was driving him right now, but raw and unadulterated  _betrayal_. He was hurting so much. Michael always assured her that Gabriel was kind at heart, but she never saw that in him. He was always a brute in her eyes …  _until now_.

_He hurt._

Hathų summoned all of her remaining courage and her palms pressed against the ground timidly as she began to push herself up, embracing her husband’s assessment of his brother and having faith in it, having faith in  _Michael’s love for him_. She bottled her fear, rising to her feet and he pointed at the ominous water, his nostrils flaring wildly as he spoke. “Don’t tempt me,  _whore_!” His tone was frantic, but she didn’t care, even as he grabbed her wrist to further his intimidation. “Don’t force my hand!”

“You said you saw her?” She smiled at him. “Her name is  _Dawn_.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Gabriel took a deep breath.  “ _She will be cleansed …_ ”

“ _She is your niece._  Your …  _family_.”

“I won’t ask again.”

“Gabriel …” She shook her head. “You won’t do this.” She didn’t believe her own words until they were out and his brows furrowed, contorted with conflicted emotion. No,  _he really wouldn’t_. “And  _he_  knows that. He won’t come for me. Michael is too smart  _for that_. He is not so foolish to accept a challenge from  _you_ –”

It was a good play. It was working even, but the footfall behind the angel was loud as the figure rocketed down the center of the stairs and the butt of the staff knocked into Gabriel’s stomach and then swung up in an arch, hitting him squarely in the chin. Gabriel flew backwards onto the ground, skidding along on his back. Hathų’s heart fell as she looked upon her husband sneering down at his fallen brother.

“Don’t touch her,  _you fucking fuck_!”

_Oh no …_

_No._

_Damn fool_.

 

* * *

 

 **[Broken Bones - Kaleo](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.reddit.com%2Fr%2Faww%2Fcomments%2F7c81a7%2Ffish_get_fed_by_duck%2F&t=ZWU3ZWY3Zjc0M2Q4ODllZTllOWVlN2FmMGIxYjA4YWU0YTZjYjhiNyxDdnpxaURmRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167470305003%2F102-ouroboros&m=1)**  

> _I’ve busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye_
> 
> _I hope he’s going to break these chains, oh yeah_
> 
> _The devil’s going to make me a free man_
> 
> _The devil’s going to set me free_

He flipped back and forth between Earth and Hell while he  _drove_. All in all, he was happy to be completely in control, but he grew bored of having to actually  _drive_ himself. How …  _quaint_. He would often step back to his citadel and speak with Shaitan for a moment before shifting back to Earth. Time passed there much more quickly than here. What would be days there, would only be seconds here.

“Find me a  _pilot_.” He had commanded his Djinn underling.

“What kind of  _plane_?”

 _Hmmm. Fuck. Good question_. Dammit. And, if he didn’t like driving, did he  _really_  want to have to  _fly_?

“Find me an airfield then.”

“Umm …” The Djinn became nervous. “Wouldn’t it be much easier for  _you_  to find that information there?” Shaitan was right, unfortunately. The Djinn  _could_ , in theory, find some soul who might have been from that area, but even then, Lucifer would have had to paw through their minds himself. He hated that shit. None of the  _Fallen_  that benefited from his  _hospitality_  possess that particular ability.

“ _Fuck_. Fine. I have to do everything myself then. I guess I’ll find a fucking phonebook or something then?” His frustration was obvious and Shaitan shrugged innocently. He regretted chucking the phone into the wilderness before trying to look one up. Regardless, it was a good move. He didn’t trust that sneaky  _Italian_  nor the overly resourceful  _Hacker_.

“I guess so?”

Lucifer took a deep and calming breath.  _Fine._  It was ok. This was good. Everything was  _good_.

He had been waiting for this for so long, what was a few more hours or … he cringed … days. He needed to be patient. The hard part was already done and now he just had to work out how to  _get_  to Siberia.

He  _wished_  he could just spread his wings and actually fly. He wished he could manifest wings, but her body was still too new. He had been pumping it full of his own divinity for months, but it was slow and her shell still didn’t possess the ability to  _shape_  itself. It would get there though. Patience. It would get there  _very soon_  if he kept siphoning himself into it.

Retaking his seated position on floor, he closed his eyes to get back to the monotonous task of driving, but he looked back to his minion first. “How is she doing?”

“She is …” Shaitan remained entirely still. “ _Complacent_.”

“Happy?” Lucifer pushed.

“ _Complacent_.” Shaitan said again.

 _Hmm._  It wasn’t what he had hoped for, but it was good enough.

“Tell me if that changes.” Shaitan nodded. “How is she enjoying …  _our gift._ ”

This had been both a gift to  _her_  as well as Shaitan. It worked in tandem to make them  _both_  more complacent. “It seems to please her.”

“Does she remember anything?”

“No.”

“Good. Make sure it stays that way,  _Satan_.” He loved to use that name to mock the Djinn, grinning every time he would say it.

“Lord?” Shaitan questioned the statement.

“Did I stutter?”

“Does it matter? You are in control now.”

“Unlike you lesser beings …” Lucifer chortled, his words laced with insult. “I actually learn from my mistakes.”

“And what mistake is that …  _My Lord?_ ”

“Not to underestimate the power of  _any_  Hayyoth, regardless of how  _weak_  they seem.” And then, Lucifer shifted back to the Earthly plane, disintegrating in front of his minion as he did so. This was different, taking her body this way. He was no longer just visiting and his spirit would travel in its entirety along the pathway left between her soul and her shell.

Now he bounded down the country road towards the signs that pointed him to Syracuse …  _again._

He should have talked her into just offing herself  ** _in_**  Siberian.

What a goddamn hassle …

 

* * *

 

 **[Down Side of Me (Live) - CHVRCHES](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5tpBLG1dy26sEfCttVKXqi&t=ZWFiNDE2OTk0NmMxMmNlNDBlNWQxMWU4NWZmODE0NzA5YmZiZGRkMyxDdnpxaURmRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167470305003%2F102-ouroboros&m=1)**  

> _You’re not same, not the same, you’re not the same_
> 
> _Not the same, you’re not the same, not the same_
> 
> _You’re not same, not the same_
> 
> _I believe, I believe_
> 
> _And tell myself to think forward_
> 
> _I will show I believe_
> 
> _And I hold you up and know that you’re all I see in the light_
> 
> _And never do what I used to_

He sat in the bed of that  _same_  truck as it bounded down the road …  _alone._  The three braves had piled into the cab of the vehicle, under the explanation that  _it was cold_ , but he knew, after what they had just witnessed from him, none of them were keen on sitting alone in his company. The rejection had no affect on him as he preferred the solitude right now. He wanted to get his thoughts straight.

It  _was_  cold though and he appreciated the frigid air cutting through the cotton and cooling his hot skin. His body was coming back down to  _his_  normal temperature, but it was slow. At least he was no longer seeing everything through an indigo hue.

The last time he was in the bed of  _this very truck_ , he had been with Mr. Elizalde and …  _Dawn_. It had been a cold night then as well and he remembered pulling her against his chest, sharing his warmth with her when she shivered. His mind drifted through groggy memories and he stared down at the phone in his grip, watching the bars in the corner. He was a patient man, but his heart beat furiously with bitter anticipation.

While he waited, he occasionally stared out into the darkness and feeling the power coursing through his body. He felt  _the same_ , but not. There was an electricity that danced within his muscles and his skin felt  _tight_  and  _new_. Eventually, he reached up to wipe something from his cheek and his hands touched  _smooth_  skin.

 _Wait. What?_  His fingers explored his face curiously and he found  _nothing_. His scars were  _gone_. Pulling the shirt out, he looked down at his bare chest, searching for the marks left by the silver bullets the night of the factory and he found …  _none_. He felt around on his upper back with timid finger tips.  _Nothing._  His brand?  _Gone_.

He exhaled heavily, unsure how he felt about it all. At the very least, he was  _free_  of their constant reminder. He was …  _reborn_. Everything was full circle … again.

“Ouroboros.” He said and chuckled.

Little Bear beat his fist against the back window and Quintus turned, looking up at the lights of the  _familiar_  camp less than a mile away. He stared down at the phone in his hand and his pupils dilated as the ‘X’ turned into one tiny bar, then two, then three.

He dialed immediately. The number was special. One that  _only_  Antonio knew. He was the only person he could think to contact right now. His heart jumped as he pressed the call button and held the speaker to his anxious ear, reminding himself not to  _crush_ the little device in his nervous preternatural grip.

One full ring. Two– … The second was only  _half_  out when he heard the call connect and then …  _silence_. If he had not heard breathing through the speaker, he might have assumed the call had dropped.

“ _Sir_  … ?” The voice was uncharacteristically desperate for the man that he knew so well, but it was definitely him.

“Antonio.” Quinlan rarely called the man by his first name and he heard a rush of relief rich in the heavy sigh on the other end.

“ _Oh_  … Sir … where …  _where have you been_?” Relief was replaced by mild annoyance and Quintus grinned. Had this man  _actually_  missed him? This was a reaction he was not anticipating in the least.

“You received my letter?” Quinlan ignored his prod for information. “Mrs. Velders contacted you on my behalf?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you accommodate my …”  _wife …_  He found himself unable to voice the  _lie_  he had spun to Ferraro and Quinlan swallowed hard. “My  _wishes_?”

“As you instructed,  _sir_.”

“ _Good_.” At least there was that. He had some concern the man would not do as he had asked. “Where is she now? I will require  _travel_  …” He looked down at the fatigues. “And the location of the closest intact safe house …”

“Sir …” Antonio hesitated. “There have been …  _complications_.”

“Antonio …” Quinlan said firmly, repeating his question. “ ** _Where is she_**?”

“I will send you the current location for her phone, but she is no longer answering my calls.” The human’s worry was impossible to ignore.

“ _Tell me everything …_   ** _Now._** ”

 

* * *

 

The truck came to an abrupt stop and  _Little Bear_  stepped out to find Quinlan already standing in front of him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but the man stepped back in minor shock of the sudden and uncomfortable proximity.

“Jesus Christ … man …” He clutched his chest as his heart rate skyrocketed.

“I require a vehicle …  ** _now_**.” Quinlan’s voice was firm and somewhat rushed. Something was …  _off._  He still held the phone tightly in his right hand as he pointed to the truck. “I will take this one.  _I will see to it that you are compensated._ ”

 _Little Bear_  looked back at  _his_  truck and then furrowed his brow. “My truck? You want  _my truck_?” He said the words, but as he spun back to face the dhampir, he knew there was no questioning it. But, he  _loved_  his truck. His dad had left it to him. “Wait, compensated how? You done with my phone?”

Quinlan stared at him for a moment and ignored the request for the return of the device. Plucking the keys from his grip, Quinlan reached for the door handle as he reassured him. “You will be compensated. I give my word.”

 _Wait, what?_  No way he was gonna take his dad’s truck … “Hey, we can find you another car …”

“George!” A voice called from the direction of the camp. “We’ve got a problem! We’ve got a  _big_  problem!”

“GAH! What is it now?!” He turned to address the two older people approaching. As he looked at the shorter of the two, he worried. What was the hell was  _Deer Clan Mother_ doing here? She was staying with the …

“The Great Fire has been …  _taken_  …” The older man’s voice trailed and he noticed the dhampir. “ _Wait … is that … ?_ ”

“ _Ah … shit …_ ” Barbara gasped, her mouth falling agape the moment she looked upon Quinlan. “I thought he was …  _dead_?”

“Taken?”  _Little Bear_  laughed out loud. “Who would be  _strong_  enough to  _take_  the Great Fire?!” He intended his question to sound so utterly ridiculous that everyone would laugh, but when no one did, he turned back to Quinlan, who was already getting into the driver’s seat of  ** _his_**  truck, starting the engine immediately.

 _Shit._  He looked at Jacks and Two Paws, flicking his chin towards the truck before sliding across the hood and sitting down into the passenger seat. His two friends followed suit, jumping into the bed together.

Quintus regarded his new passenger with disdain. “I do not require your assistance. You should stay–”

“Like you said … it’s a  _war_  …”  _Little Bear_  shrugged, grinning madly as he did. “And wars need soldiers. ‘Sides …  _my truck doesn’t go anywhere without me._ ”

“Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

It was a damn good strike, but Gabriel didn’t stay down for long. He lifted himself up and sneered at his older brother. “Fucking hypocrite!”

“Yeah …” Michael shrugged madly. “So what!? WHO CARES!?”

Gabriel screamed something incoherent, his voice full of fury as he charged his big brother, tackling Michael with viscous force, throwing the golden hayyoth back against the rock wall and everything shook around them.

“ _Selfish Heartless BASTARD_!!!” The massive angel bellowed as he swung to strike, but Michael sidestepped and used the staff again, jabbing it into Gabriel’s shoulder, causing him to step back from its force. Michael always knew, should his discretion come to light, that his brothers would be disappointed in him, but Gabriel was incensed and there was something  _off_  about the rationality of his anger. “I looked UP to you!”

“I’m heartless?! You’re the one who’s acting like a chil–” Could he reason with him when he was in this state? He doubted it, but he still felt like he should try. He wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence as another blow landed and his brother tore him from the ground, picking him up completely and chucking him across the chamber. As he hit the wall head first, the staff slipped from his grip and Gabriel grappled with him. They rolled across the ground like fighting children, tearing and clawing at each other’s face and hair.

“You only care about yourself! YOU’VE ONLY EVER CARED–”

“Please stop!” Michael heard Hathų scream from behind. Why was she still here?! She needed to  _run_. Didn’t she understand? Michael had afford her a chance to escape, at the cost of his own freedom. There was  _no way_  he could beat Gabriel. He had come to give her a chance to flee … to get to their safe place …

Gabriel fish hooked his mouth and Michael bit down on his finger. Both men sneered and spit at each other. Maybe if he could get him in a submission hold? They rolled and rolled on the ground.

Nope, his massive brother won the wrestling match and he was on top of Michael completely when the staff connected with Gabriel’s head. It was like a  _light thub_ against his temple, but the force was miniscule and he looked confused for a moment. His brows furrowed and both men stopped their fight and turned to look at the prophet, standing to the side, holding the staff in both hands, her eyes wide with shock. She had struck the angel with as much force as she could muster, but …

“What the hell?” Gabriel released his hold on Michael’s wrists and grabbed the end of the staff, yanking it out of her hands and chastising her with a tone one might use with a child. “What’re you doing? Give me that!”

Michael lunged at the wrong time during the exchange and the staff swung up and around, mercilessly connecting with the side of her temple, sending her crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh shit …” Gabriel’s mouth flew open and he turned to look at Michael with absolute shock. “No no no. That wasn’t my fault. She–”

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” Michael surged with energy and he tackled his brother as a flurry of golden lightning danced across his spotted skin. “I’LL KILL YOU!”


	77. Fan Art - Foreshadowing

[quintustheinvictus](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/167417721305/i-knew-after-all-this-time-i-finally-arrived):

> _— I knew after all this time, I finally arrived home.[(Insp)](http://fluohrine.tumblr.com/post/148732517250/when-you-first-said-my-name-all-the-chaos-inside)_
> 
> _**Quintus and Dawn, foreshadowing.** _
> 
> [A Savage Inconvenience](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F24122757&t=MWU2ZTgxNzRjNjMzNTExN2IyYjkzZDY1NzhjZDEwMTliYjgyYTNiZSw5UEEyRGhnYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167417911298%2Fquintustheinvictus-i-knew-after-all-this&m=1) // [An Insatiable Ache](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F22104923&t=NjZiM2M2ODFhZTBhZTg3M2ZiYmI3N2U5ZmY1ZGJlOTIwYjY0YWU0OCw5UEEyRGhnYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167417911298%2Fquintustheinvictus-i-knew-after-all-this&m=1)
> 
>  

##  **Holy crap … It’s incredible!**


	78. 10.3 - Ouroboros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Note from Author:** If you don’t remember [Chapter 9.1 - Timing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/27926685), you should re-read it before continuing.
>
>> “But …” Hathų fought the words. “I have not dreamed of the future since I died. How did I get here …” She reached up and touched her temple again, cringing as she did so. The wound was obviously sensitive to the touch.
> 
> Specifically …
>
>> “He has always chosen you. He will always choose you, even to the detriment of himself and his own brothers and even to the detriment of your own children. He has proven this fact over and over again.” Sandalphon added. “You … over everything that is dear to him and his life. You … over his morals and rules and laws. You … over his own fate and freedom. It as always been you and you know it.”
>> 
>> “And now … “ The fire danced higher as Lilith spoke, the flames dancing in the reflection of her dark and menacing eyes. “It is your turn to prove the same to him.”
>> 
>> “But what you are asking of me …” Hathų’s lower lip quivered slightly. “I …”
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

It actually took a lot to scare George. Even before his  _change_  through the magic of The Great Fire, before he surrendered his body and soul to be bonded with the  _wild_ , he had been unusually fearless. He supposed that came hand in hand with being born from family that shared the spirit of the first  _bear_.

But right now, Mr. Quinlan sped down the road at a velocity that frightened even the bear man. He had already lost count of the times the truck lurched from side to side, swerving past debris and potholes. The tires would lose traction with the damp road momentarily before gripping again, rocking them violently. This sent George lurching forward, having to halt himself with both palms against the dash to keep from hitting the windshield face first.

After each  _near-flip_ , he would give a quick glance to the bed of the truck to verify his friends had not been catapulted out. If they had been  _just men_ , he had no doubts they would have been thrown out miles back. He also had no doubts that Mr. Quinlan would not have stopped for them if they had.

The dhampir hadn’t said  _anything_  since they left the camp and George watched his face contort with emotion. His lips curling up in an annoyed sneer as he drove them down the dark and twisty forest roads, occasionally looking down at the map on the phone in his palm.

“There a reason you’re in such a hurry?” George pressed. “Do you even know where you’re goin’? We know this wilderness better than  _anyone_  … ”

Quinlan took a shallow breath and uttered something almost too low for even George to hear. “ _Dawn_  …”

“Dawn?” George looked up at the sky through the windshield. “I’d say you gotta about fifteen minutes before the sun comes up, but … I thought you and the  ** _Sun_**  were ok with each other?” He asked but Quinlan ignored the prod, sneering and grumbling something under his breath in language with which George was unfamiliar.

The dhampir jerked the wheel right sending them down a dirt offshoot of the road and the truck skidded to the side from the sudden turn. As tires gained traction, George grabbed the dash again, arguing. “Nah nah, man wait … this is a dead end! Where  _the hell_  are you going?!”

Dead end indeed. “We know these roads better than anyone … where are you–” The vehicle stopped abruptly and Quinlan tore out of the cab and disappeared into the forest before George had any time to react properly.

Jacks and Two Paws were already jumping from the bed when George opened the door and then the smell hit him squarely in the face. He stared off in the direction the dhampir had sprinted and his face fell with confusion as he mulled over the scent carefully. It was  _far_ , a couple of miles at the very least, but it was  _obviously_  human … of some kind at least … there was something else in the smell though.

“You smell that?” George sniffed. The smell was far but remarkably strong. He would smell it before Two Paws; bears having the best sense of smell of  _all_  terrestrial mammals.

“Smell what?” Two Paws pushed, already quite familiar with his friend’s expression, and followed his gaze off into the eerily  _still_  forest. Something was  _very_  off and all three men felt unease at the  _stillness_  of the air around them. “George … Smell what?”

“ _Blood_.” George frowned. “ _Lots of it._ ”

 

* * *

 

**[Shadow Cast - Mark Petrie](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6QFMvUyQWXtYFu5kYR8tEX&t=M2JkNmViNGI3YzMzMjQwZjZhYjg1NjE0ZGU5ZTBmZjVkMjNiMmZlYixySGtpbWUwNg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167675569868%2F103-ouroboros&m=1) **

 

When the staff hit the side of his wife’s temple, and she crumpled to the ground, Michael saw  _red_ , or in  _his case_ ,  _gold_. His body was a flurry of divinity and it crackled across his skin as he tackled his brother with more force than he had ever used on the massive angel before.

Gabriel gasp as the air cut sharply out of his lungs and the two flew across the room, impacting with the rock wall. He used this advantage the best he could, kicking his brother while he was still down, but he only managed to land a few divinity-powered blows before Gabriel was on his feet again, catching his fist in mid-air and thrusting Michael back several steps. 

Michael’s golden lightning sparked across Gabriel’s skin and its effect on him gradually began to wane as he gritted his teeth and became  _one_  with the pain. Michael flared the energy up again and Gabriel’s nostrils flared only slightly.

“That all you got,  _traitor_?”

Fuck … what was this angel made of … that was a **_lot_**   _of pain …_

His brother’s sneer then slowly turned to a smile, and he reached for Michael, grabbing his chest armor with one hand and his thigh with the other. He hoisted the angel into the air above his head as if he was nothing more than a feather, holding him parallel to the ground. Michael understood what would happen next and he could do nothing to combat it now.

Gabriel would crush his body, specifically his spine, down into his knee. While Michael could heal a broken back, it would take time and power and Gabriel knew he had just spent quite a bit of divinity.

Michael thrashed wildly but he could do little to fight against the sheer strength of  _The Messenger_  and he felt himself coming  _down_. Closing his eyes, he prepared for the agony of the break but hit the ground instead his brother’s knee. That was  _not_  what he was expecting at all. Rolling over, he looked up, expecting a kick to land but instead found Gabriel scratching at thin arms, tangled around his neck, grabbing him from behind in a choke hold.

As Michael stood, he spied the madly grinning face behind the arms and he  _matched_ her glee with a smile of his own.

_It was her. He had faltered … and she was here to reinforce._

“Don’t just stand there grinning, you fool!!!” She bellowed as Gabriel slammed her back against the wall. “HELP ME!”

_For the first time in thousands of years, Michael felt complete again. Whole. His other …_

_Ozryel._

* * *

**[Welcome to the Tombs - Bear McCreary](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1m3dqYsFe0wOvC6p5MhxEG&t=OWYxZTJhMGZiOGRmMjNiY2JmN2U1MjNjZjJhNGI2YzliZjUyZTBjYyxySGtpbWUwNg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167675569868%2F103-ouroboros&m=1) **

 

The door was slightly ajar and he paused on the steps. The odor was overwhelming and …  _painful_. He knew it, quite intimately in fact. Human blood. That faint smell of copper and …  _angelica_. He wasn’t sure what he might find within but at least he didn’t detect any decay. He also didn’t hear any sounds. There was no breathing nor any heart beat within. The only thing he could be certain of, from standing outside, was that he would find a large volume of  _her blood_  but nothing else stirred.

A sad and quiet serenity surrounded the area.  _Nothing_  stirred. No creature. No insect. No movements of life at all. It was a profound stillness he had never felt before. Though not even a hint of the wind was present, he knew better than to assume he was alone. Staring at the door, he uttered lowly under his breath to  _whatever_  was watching him. “ _Coward._ ”

Pressing his palm against the wooden panel of the door, he stopped himself from pushing it open, hesitating yet again. He wasn’t sure if it was  _fear_  or  _hope_  which held him back, but something begged him to stop. Pushing the feeling aside, he swung the door open wide.

There was an audible exhale of breath as he scanned the interior and failed to see  _any_ body. He felt like he might collapse from relief, his knees trembling slightly, but the smell told him to investigate further. She had been here …  _recently_. His heart lurched at that fact. He had been  _so close_.

Nevertheless, something terrible still happened here. It only took several steps for him to see the source of the odor, spilled all over the scratchy rug in front of that fateful fireplace. The pool of blood was thick, coagulated and still. Whatever relief he felt quickly abated. He half-walked, half-stumbled to the area and knelt, assessing the volume.

No human could survive this much loss, but …  _hope tugged at his heart_  … she was  _not_  entirely human was she? And … she was  _not_  here.

_Remain focused._

His fingers clenched into a fist and the leather of his glove squeaked as the anger he was desperate to control began to bubble within his chest. He felt his heart beating faster and his muscles tensed fiercely. His temperature began to flare and he felt beads of sweat begin to accumulate across his forehead.

_Remain calm …_

The bear-man stepped into the cabin doorway, stopping in the entrance as he looked around quietly regarding the dhampir. Quinlan made no move to stand as he continued to stare at the blood. He took a deep breath and caught faint hints of  _their_  time here a year ago. Small, lingering scents of  _their bodies_  and he clenched his jaw.

_Why would she have come back here? Why would she even be here? Why would she …_

The sun peeked over the edge of the horizon and the first ray of light flowed into the room from the open door and glinted off of the thick, red liquid.

_Remain … collected …_

In this still moment, Quinlan struggled like never before to curb his brewing anger, his  _fear_. He struggled to hold onto his  _hope_ , but when his companion spoke, he lost all semblance of control. “Mr. Quinlan …”  _Little Bear_  whispered the question. “ _Who died here?_ ”

There wasn’t anything small around him which he could grab, but that had never stopped him before. He lashed out, spinning and grasping the side of the couch as he screamed, swinging the large piece of furniture around as he stood in the middle of the throw. It hurled across the small space and smashed into the cabinets in of the small kitchenette. Everything crushed from the force of the action and he continued to growl throughout the destruction.

He would have preferred not to cry in front of the soldier, but his eyes were already full of tears and one escaped down his cheek before he could put his head into his hand, turning his back to the man and covering his face entirely.

_Fuck._

Pinching his brow, he took a deep inhale in a futile attempt to calm himself and his body shook. He took several more breaths before wiping the remaining moisture from his eyes and turning back around.

All could  _not_  be lost. Even in the bear’s statement was true,  _death_  was not an ending, was it? He had proved it was not and the angel told him he would find her again. No. This was not helping anything. His heart began to slow and his shoulders relaxed.

_Hope?_

He had never seen  _Little Bear’s_  eyes as wide as they were now and the man hadn’t moved an inch since Quinlan’s …  _display of emotion_.

“There is no body.” Quinlan stated, trying to correct George’s statement, while also trying to convince himself. “It would be foolish to assume anyone  _is dead_.”

“Yeah man, but scavengers might’ve–”

“I have  _falsely_  made  _that_  assumption about this  _very_  person once already. I will not make it again. Besides, there is no trail of blood. There are no drag marks. Inside  _or_ out. And there is no scent of  _any_ thing else having been here.”

“But that’s …” George hesitated, not wishing to incite the dhampir’s fit again. “That’s  _a lot_  of blood. More than someone can lose and still be breathing.”

“Yes …  _and_  no.” Quinlan countered. “More than a human, but  _this is not human_  blood. I have even survived  _worse_.”

“Ok then …” George took a whiff, nodding and accepting with his own assessment of the smell. “What kind of blood is it then?”

“ _The blood of a Thunder_.” Quinlan explained.

“A  _Thunder_?” George gulped. “Like …  _Hinon?_ ”

“His grand-daughter, if you wish me to be precise.” Quinlan looked around and spied something on the ground. It had been hidden from his view, under the couch. He knelt and picked it up, recognizing it instantly.

“Gods  _don’t_  bleed.”

“I assure you …” Quinlan sneered the words with a slightly bitter laugh. “ _They do_.” 

“In the truck …  _you said Dawn_  …” Something finally clicked in George’s mind and Quinlan nodded. “That was the name of your  _little woman_  … ”

“We  _have_  to find her.” Frowning, Quinlan glanced down at the object in his hand and the blood smeared across it. He made his way to the door, walking past George and out onto the porch, looking at the two men who were waiting for them outside.

“Ok. Where are we going next then?” George followed.

Quinlan flashed the bowie knife at his inquisitive companion. “ _Where I left this_  …” He fished the phone out of his front pocket and dialed the number Ferraro had given him, the same one he had called several times during the drive, but it had just rang endlessly. He assumed nothing would come of it, but he heard the distant sound of the vibration off in the trees. It didn’t take long for him to dig the phone out of the dirt where it had been discarded.

He took a whiff of the device and found her scent still lingered on it. Gazing upon the locked screen, he tried a combination of numbers that represented her birthday but the device remained locked. He stared at it and typed in four more numbers and the device unlocked. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily at the revelation, but he opened them quickly, commanding himself not to get sentimental right now. The numbers represented the date of his death.

_Focus Quintus. Focus. FOCUS._

27 missed calls and several text messages from  _Ferraro_. 5% battery remaining. The screen was cracked, but it was still functional. He chucked George’s phone back to the man and as they began to walk hastily towards the truck. “Are you able to charge this?”

“As long as it’s not an iPhone … yeah … You can charge it in the truck.”

“I am uncertain.” Quinlan scrunched his nose and waved the small device so George could see it clearly. “Is this an … eye phone?”

“Yer good man.” George nearly laughed out loud at Quinlan’s ignorance as the dhampir scrutinized the device, trying to decipher the human’s question.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had tried to knock her off by slamming his back against the wall, but her grip proved challenging. It took him four more hits before he felt her hold begin to weaken and when he finished the last blow with a backwards head butt, connecting the back of his head squarely into her nose, her grip faltered.

“Fuck me.”

He heard a muffled curse escape her lips and her arms loosened just enough for him to wedge a hand between them and fling her over his shoulder, throwing her into Michael. Both Hayyoth crumpled to the ground but quickly came to their feet and turned to face their giant brother together.

“Goodness, what in the world is he made of?” Ozryel asked, the smiled gone from her lips as she wiped the blood now trailing down from her right nostril.

“No fuckin’ clue.” Michael chuckled the response as they both advanced at the same time, stepping in unison and striking their brother together. One bobbing while the other weaved. It was as if they had never been apart and their delicate dance flowed seamlessly with each other, taking turns leading and following.

“I should have known you were working together!” Gabriel spat as he swung wildly at them, landing more blows than even the two of them could together. “Corrupt, lying, selfish, fornicating  _bastards_! You will  _pay_  for what you have  _done_!”

“Fornicator?! I never! We had a trial  _all about that!_  Or did you already forget? Good lord, he’s in a mood!” Ozryel screamed as he latched onto her arm and swung her like a bat into Michael, sending him crashing into the far wall.

“You think?!?” Michael coughed as he staggered back to his feet only to fall back down once Ozryel’s limp body connected with him, where Gabriel chucked her after he swung her.

“This isn’t working. He’s too strong.” Michael ducked a swing and Gabriel followed through hitting Ozryel instead. Michael used the opportunity to jump onto Gabriel’s back this time, though he realized it would be futile. “Take Hathų and go! I will distract him!”

“I am  _not_  leaving you here!” Ozryel argued as Gabriel pummeled her face before flicking Michael off of his back with ease. “We need to get to Earth. We need to–”

## “I will  _never_  leave her. Not for anything. And certainly not to their …  _justice_.”

“Ok. I’ve a plan then.” Ozryel pulled Michael up before Gabriel was atop them again. “Do you remember the Battle of Babel?”

Michael should have questioned the intention, but he didn’t. He trusted her and he followed her lead. Attacking at intervals as they switched positions, stepping in front, stepping behind, to the side and then reversing. It didn’t take long for the massive angel to stumble, beginning to lose his footing and both Ozryel and Michael took a wrist and helped the Hayyoth continue the fall to the ground, hitting hard against his back.

Each placed a knees on Gabriel’s wrist and held the meatier part of the arm down with both hands, trying to keep the angel pinned with both their weight and their strength.

Ozryel was shocked it worked and her smile was impressively wide with pride. “Hurry! Quick! Do it now! DIMINISH HIM!” As she looked over at Michael’s hand, her mouth fell agape. “Wait … where the bloody hell is your  _ring_?!?!”

Michael swallowed hard.  _Uh oh_. Had that been her plan? “Yeah … uh …  _about that, I might have lost–_ ”

He was going to explain further, but Gabriel laughed and flexed, bringing his arms together in a strong clap and slamming the Hayyoth twins against each other.

“Ooooooph!” They each gasped in unison from the savage impact, and fell limp to the ground.

Gabriel was to his feet already, grabbing the lapel of each of his brother’s and he began to drag their stunned bodies towards the stairs. “This has been fun, but it’s time to face justice. It’s time to be judged, just like  _all those_  you have  _destroyed_.”

The words were off, making little sense even for Gabriel and Michael scratched at his hands. “Destroyed?! The only ones I’ve ever destroyed were  ** _for justice_**! I’ve always done what was asked–”

Gabriel growled, turning to face Michael as he brought the golden-haired Hayyoth up to his level, sneering directly in his face. “Always?! ALWAYS!? Did you even know his name? Do you even care about the souls  ** _you’ve_**  sacrificed for  ** _your sin_**?!”

“Who’s name?!? What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Play dumb. I don’t care.” He began to drag them again.

“Fuck you! My only sin was to  _protect souls_  from  _sacrifice_!” Michael spat as he lashed wildly. “Heaven’s  _law_  is the reason–”

“His name was  _Peter_.” Gabriel shook his head, sadness sinking into his brow.

“ _Who the fuck is Peter?!_ ”

“You didn’t even know his name before you destroyed his beautiful little soul?! So that you could  _keep your secret?!_ ”

“What in the bloody hell is he on about now?!” Ozryel was still trying to shake herself back to full consciousness from the impact with Michael.

Michael breathed out as the revelation struck him suddenly. “The Djinnling boy?!”

Gabriel stopped and leaned down. “His name was  _PETER!_ ”

“His name IS Peter, you moron!” Michael tried to pull out of the grip again, understanding the rage and the irrationality of his brother’s words.

“Lies!” Gabriel argued. “You are–”

“He lives in  _Jersey_  with his mom! I didn’t  _destroy_  him!”

“He’s not …” Gabriel wanted to disbelieve the words, but as he looked down into his brother’s face, he could read the truth. “You let him live?”

“Of course I did …” Michael bit back the disappointment in his tone. “What do you think of me, brother?”

“I …” It seemed as if the angel might be reachable until he released his hold on Ozryel and slugged Michael across the jaw.

_Oooooph._

“YOU ALMOST LET ME DESTROY HIM!?” Gabriel’s jaw clenched with frustration as he grabbed Michael’s neck.

“No.” Michael said firmly and everyone stopped.

“NO!? That’s all you have to say?” Gabriel’s face contorted with emotion. “YOU ALMOST MADE ME–”

“NO.” Michael said forcefully again. “I didn’t, Gabriel.”

“Guys …” Ozryel said, scrambling to her feet and both ignored her as their argument unfolded.

“I COULD HAVE–” Michael could see Gabriel was fighting the tears. He had seen his brother cry many times, but there was no need today. Not over this. This was a misunderstanding. He placed a gentle hand on the giant’s grip on his neck and Gabriel relaxed slightly.

“Gabriel …  _You couldn’t have_.”

“It was … a gamble.” Gabriel’s gripped tightened again, but only for a moment as Michael’s hand pressed warmly down on his brothers. “You gambled with  _his_  soul.”

“Guys!!!” Ozryel said with minor panic.

“No. It was  _never_  a gamble, because it is not who you are. It’s  _never_  been who you are.”

“MICHAEL!” Ozryel screamed in full panic and finally he turned to her, his face full of frustration. Did she not realize he was  _finally_  breaking through to Gabriel. But Ozryel was staring back to the pool and as Michael followed her gaze, a rich and golden light began to flood the chamber, emanating from the water itself. Someone had started the process of rebirth. A human soul had entered the pathway and there was only  _one_  human soul there …

“Oh my god, no … ” Michael gasped, lunging forward and Gabriel released his hold at once. “Hathų.” 

* * *

 

 **[Late Night (It’s Okay) - VHS Collection](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3bKS07jBpIOQjv7MdX4dew&t=ZDE3ZTFiYjg2MzFiYzFjMzEyY2Y5N2E5YmE1NWNiY2ViZWVhYWQ2NixySGtpbWUwNg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167675569868%2F103-ouroboros&m=1)**   

> _This is my home, it’s where i reside_
> 
> _though i rarely sleep at night_
> 
> _It’s where i belong, I feel it inside_
> 
> _the coldest place for me to hid_
> 
> _a little bit wrong a little bit right_
> 
> _i can barely see the light_
> 
> _I think I can_   ** _dance_**   _and probably fly_

The other two prophets were gone. Disappeared back into the ether of time. Returned to its ever flowing river and it was just them again, alone in Lilith’s confluence, as it had been for thousands and thousands  _and thousands_  of years. The air was thick with hidden agenda as they locked eyes over that same fire.

Their minds mulled over the circumstances that their conversation might instigate. The future, even now, in this place so far beyond time itself, was ripe with rich and vast possibilities and they smiled at the thought of it all.

They had stopped feeding the fire and now they just waited for it to dye out. “Did you know, before you were born,  ** _my_**  sister, the world was a boring place for me?” Lilith confessed, staring at Sandalphon across the dying embers of her confluence’s campfire.

“ _Boring_?” The Wheel chimed with genuine intrigue. “I very much doubt that. History tells that you had much fun before I was  _made_.”

“Fun?” Lilith laughed and smiled gloriously, flashing her marvelous white fanged teeth. “Life is never fun if you always know what is coming. And until you were made,  _I always knew what would be_. When you came, you changed existence for me.”

“But, you  _knew_  I was coming, didn’t you?” Sandalphon poked at her logic. She had  _always_  been curious. Lilith has been  _all seeing_  afterall. “You knew your war on Earth would spark my creation.”

“Not in the way you assume. I did not see  ** _you_**  … but I saw the  _divergence_  in the confluence. I saw it as clear as day, laid out before me, a spider web of possibilities and it was  _beautiful_. So no, I did not fully understand what it was, but I weaved the narrative towards it and out  _you_  sprang, little wheel.”

“So now you are claiming responsibility for my creation?” Sandalphon scoffed at her. “That is quite an egotistical statement.”

“I will  _miss_  you, Sandals and I will  _miss_  our time here.”

“I doubt you’ll miss  _anything_  in  ** _oblivion_**  …  _will you?_ ” The Wheel scrutinized her companion’s response as she said the vicious words, trying to read anything from her, but Lilith remained entirely calm. Hmmm. Even  _not_  reacting gave something away. The game was still afoot.

“Without …” Lilith’s unnerving smile turned almost warm as she considered the words in the mind carefully before uttering them. “Without …  _an_   ** _other_**  … like myself … I was in charge of time  _entirely_.”

“You mean you had no one to keep you in check.” Sandalphon countered.

“I mean, I had no one to  _challenge_  me. No one to …  _give me purpose_.”

The wheel actually knew exactly what she meant, because she had felt it with Dawn. It was a lonely life to always know what would happen and to be around people who could actually change what you had set into motion was something fundamentally completing. “Are you trying to say … “ Sandalphon squinted at her, disbelieving still. “You appreciate me, Queen Prophet?”

“Appreciate is a strong word, Angel Prophet.” Lilith stared into the fire as she slipped her cold shield of apathy back on, cloaking her emotions once again. “ _Tolerate_.”

“Well …” She could argue further, but she knew it was rare for Lilith to offer such words. “Thank you for  _tolerating_  me then.”

The flames died further. Only a single tiny flame remained. “I enjoy this dance.” Lilith took a deep breath of the smoke from the small flame, wafting it into her face as she closed her eyes tightly, swaying her head back and forth as if she were remembering a graceful melody in her mind.

“Dance? Is it really a dance? I have always thought our relationship like a  _game_  …”

“No, little wheel.” Lilith purred and Sandalphon felt the fire die. Everything went black as she left the confluence. In the distance, she heard Lilith laughing in darkness, the moment before she woke. “A game ends when there is a clear  _winner_  and  _loser_. But a dance will continue as long as there is still music playing …”

 _Ouroboros._  


	79. Fan Art - Scars

_“I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way. Let our scars fall in love.” — Andrew Boyd_

[Mr. Quinlan and Dawn Maxwell, An Insatiable Ache](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/167630405435/i-will-find-that-special-person-who-is-wrong-for), by [quintustheinvictus@tumblr](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/)


	80. 10.4 - Ouroboros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I killed myself with this chapter. This has been planned since the beginning. If you do not remember [Interlude 11 - Forsaken](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/21282080), give it a read before you read this next part. Enjoy!

**[Tom Player - Forever Lost](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DeZVYZKcI8lQ&t=OTdjZjk5YzRlMGRiMzNkMmU1NzI4ODgyZDQxNjI3ZjczM2IwOTZlNCx2bXQwSHpBSA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167932984798%2Fchapter-104-ouroboros&m=1) **

 

## Freedom …

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” He gasped the word, repeating it over and over again as he sprinted the distance between them, splashing through the water and grabbing her, holding her there. He attempted to pull her from the water. By the  _gods_ , he pulled and his lightning sparked across its surface and the cave rattled with the crack of thunder. Her spirit would not budge and he stared down into her smiling face as he fought to keep her there. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Please. PLEASE!”

The last word, he bellowed to the space above them, calling out to the entity he  _knew_ was watching. He wanted to thrash and scream and cry, but her gentle hand pressed against his spotted cheek brought his attention back  _down_  … back to  _her_.

“Hinon.” Her smile broadened. “Do not spend these moments screaming to a  _creator_ who will not help.”

“But he  _can_. He CAN help!” Michael fought her surrender. He denied the inevitability that she had already set into motion. “I KNOW HE CAN STOP THI–”

## Freedom to want …

“But he  _won’t_.” She explained to him. “For even he knows that this  _must_  happen. It has already been written. It has already been foretold.”

“Why? Why would you do this?!” He couldn’t keep her here for long. He was already failing. She was slipping away, but perhaps if he had help. He turned to his brothers, who stood side by side, silent at the water’s edge as they watched the scene with horror painted across their faces. “Help me! OZRYEL!”

“ _It is my choice._   ** _I am the master of my fate._** ” Her hand pulled on his cheek, bringing his face back to hers again. She tugged his head down to touch her forehead. “You know it does not matter. Nothing can stop it.”

“ _Why_  would you … do this …” Michael’s torment was undeniable. “I don’t understand–”

## Freedom to choose …

“Because you  _know_  you would not go. You would not leave me, so I  _must_  go.” The tip of her delicate nose brushed across his and she laid a simple kiss upon it. “You said it yourself. And you  _need_  to go.”

“Don’t leave me …” He choked, the memory of Ozryel’s loss overwhelmed him. “ _Not again._ ”

“ _She_  has been returned to you.” She made a gentle nod towards Michael’s other. “You are  _not_  alone. [You have never been alone](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F19999834&t=ZjJiNDg4NTlkNTg4YTMwYjc3ZjEzNGM1ZTUxOWNlZTlmOWI0OGVhOSx2bXQwSHpBSA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167932984798%2Fchapter-104-ouroboros&m=1).”

“I can’t lose you. I won’t–”

“I am  _already_  gone, my  ** _Thunder_**.” He began to sob at this, drooling like a fool. “You are not  _weak_  and I know this will  _not_  break you.”

“I …” Both his body and his voice trembled.

## Freedom to feel …

“I am not afraid.” She smiled. He didn’t understand how she  _couldn’t_  be afraid … how she could just …  _fade away._  “I understand  _her_  words now. I understand  _their_  meaning and …  _I am not afraid_.”

“Who’s words??” Michael was desperate for understanding. His power was waning. She was slipping. “Dawn? Did you see her? Did you–”

“ _The Angel Prophet._ ” Her smile was as wide as he had ever seen it. God he loved it when she smiled.

“ _I don’t understand …_ ” His knees began to shake and she leaned against him, giving her strength to his weakening state, helping him to remain on his feet for as long as possible.

“I get it now …  _My mind_  …” She tapped her temple. “It exists  _outside_  of time.” She laughed with confidence. “Everything I am can  _never_  be lost. It is how  _she_  was reborn  _so many times_.”

“No … no … no ….” He argued with her logic. “Father made her special. She’s an angel. You aren’t–”

“She is a  _prophet_.” Her forehead pressed against his and his legs finally buckled and he came to his knees. The water was mid-chest level and he looked  _up_  into her beautiful, brown eyes, soaking in their brilliance  _one final time_. “You must let me go now.”

“Please … Just a little more time.” He couldn’t keep up with the strength of the pool and the light began to brighten all around them again. His arms held her around her waist and he hugged her tight, burying his head into her chest, taking in a deep breath of her soul  _one final time_.

## Freedom to love …

“We had hundreds of  _years_  …” Pulling away from his embrace, she pushed her head back down onto his forehead and brushed his nose  _one final time_  with hers. “What is waiting a few more?”

“You’ll be  _lost_. Everything you are will be–”

“Stubborn man. You are not listening.” She sighed. “Everything I am … Everything that I have  _ever_  been … exists  _somewhere_  in time. I will just need to  _find_  it again. And  _she_ will help me. I am certain.” She assured him. “Promise me … you will help  _our child_.”

“Yes.” He nodded once.

“ _We_  began in water …” She remembered him fishing her out of that lake when she was a child, breathing life back into her. She knew that was the moment she really fell in love with the god. “And now we end the same.”

“No.  _Nothing ends._ ” He refused. “And this is  _not_  our end … I will find you. I promise I will  _find you_. I will  _always_  find you.”

## And the freedom to fall.

 

* * *

 

This was the way of her people. They never stayed long in Heaven. They returned to the Earth to rejoin the Great Spirit and she was fulfilled with this knowledge. There was no pain, fear, or regret and she could think of no better way to  _pass_. No better way than in the arms of  _her Thunder_ , knowing he would now be  ** _free_**  to do what he must.

  
  


God she loved him.  _Her Thunder_. 

##  "Find me on the  **solstice**  …"

She was breaking apart. Everything blurred as it faded away in a rich and warm light and the last thing she saw were his rich green eyes.

This revolution around the circle of her existence was complete and thus began the next.

##  _Ouroboros._

* * *

 

He warned Quinlan before they began this long drive to the outskirts of southern New York that the area was quarantined. Locked down and closed off from civilians. The immediate area of the city was still radioactive from the first dirty bomb and the lingering strigoi throughout the surrounding areas made it uninhabitable. But that didn’t keep looters from trying to pilfer radiated items, so the area was cordoned off.

“The military is crawling all over the place.” George had said. “You sure you want to risk it?”

“It will not be a problem.” The dhampir had assured and though George felt like he should have  _some_  concerns, he didn’t want to argue with Quinlan in the slightest.

After an hour on the road, he pulled the truck over and George questioned immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  
  


“Roadblock. Two miles ahead.” Quinlan explained as he exited the vehicle, checking his firearms over and smoothing out his camouflage attire.

George glanced back to Jacks, who shrugged and shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not that Quinlan had better sight than Jacks, but he imagined  _all_  of his senses were better than any of theirs.

“K. Let’s do this.” As he reached for his door handle, Quinlan spoke without even looking up at the man.

“Remain with the vehicle. This will not take long.” With that the dhampir vanished in a streak down the road. It was only a few seconds before the gun fire began and it was only a few more seconds before it stopped and the area was as quiet as it was before. The dhampir was standing in front of the truck again, wiping his mouth and George was hit with the stench of fresh blood. He now had two more assault rifles thrown over his right shoulder in addition to the one he had already been wielding. He jammed new ammunition into one of the many pockets in his cargo pants without saying a word.

As he walked calmly back to the driver’s side, he threw one of the new weapons to each of the men in the bed. “Merry Christmas.” It was a joke, but he never cracked a smile during its execution.

Sliding back into the driver’s seat, George raised an eyebrow to him. “What about me?”

“Hmmm.” Quinlan nodded towards George’s hands. “I thought you prefered to …  ** _do it the old-fashioned way_**?” Quinlan was repeating the same words George had given to the soldiers on the boat and finally, the faintest of grins tugged at the very corner of the dhampir’s mouth, but it faded quickly.

“Shiiiiiiit.” George half-chuckled, half-groaned.

 

* * *

 

“What the  _hell_  just happened?” Gabriel whispered, unable to rip his eyes from the now still waters and his brother sobbing within it. “Why the  _hell_  would she …”

His voice trailed off as Michael turned, locking eyes on the giant. His nostrils flared in unrestrained anger and he lunged, staggering and splashing through the water, unable to do so with any grace or speed. It was clear he was completely  _spent_. As he reached the water’s edge, he grabbed for Gabriel, screaming incoherently as he did so. If he had been an actual threat, the giant angel might have tried to block the sloppy attack, but both Gabriel and Ozryel just watched as their brother crashed against Gabriel’s body.

“You did this!” Michael wailed, his fists tight as he hammered against his brother’s chest. “You brought her here! This is  _your_  fault!”

“It wasn’t my fault. I … “ He did nothing as Michael unleashed his frantic and exhausted frustration. When he could no longer strike, Michael fell to his knees, vainly attempting to grab at the armour to halt his descent. Gabriel could only watch with horror as his brother collapsed, unsure of what he should do next.

"You did this …” Drool leaked from his mouth and he fell forward into the dirt, spitting down into the dust. “You did …”

“She did this. I didn’t  _want_  this.” Gabriel turned to Ozryel. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but her eyes were still fixated on the water, a look of disbelief still in her eyes. “She went into the water …  _she did this!_  You saw it! OZRYEL! You saw her! I didn’t–”

“You …” Ozryel turned to him, unable to gaze upon Michael yet. “ _You gave her no choice, brother._ ”

“ME? Choice?!” Gabriel’s eyes flew wide open. “I …” He looked down upon his broken sibling and fought the self-loathing that was burning in his chest.  _Had he done this?_ No. No. NO! She had gone into the water. She did it! SHE! “Enough.” Gabriel tried to shake off the doubt as he grabbed his siblings again. Ozryel fought, tearing at his hand, but Michael was limp as Gabriel began to drag him through the dirt. “You’re both still coming with me.”

“Are you kidding me?!? After what just happened?!” Ozryel bellowed at him, her voice rich with disappointment. “Are you seriously–”

“We are bound by the LAW!” Gabriel barked to her as he pulled her face just inches from his. “I cannot change THE LAW.  ** _No one can._** ”

“And if you do this … this  _child_  whom you so fondly spoke of … what do you assume  _his fate_  will be?!?” Ozryel pulled furiously at his grip as he continued to drag them across the dirt to the stairs. “Will you tell them he lives?!”

There was a hesitation, but it faded away and Gabriel frowned as he continued his duty. “This is not for  _us_  to decide. Our duty is clear. I will  ** _beg_**  for  _leniency–_ ”

“Leniency?!?!” Ozryel screamed. “LENIENCY!?! FROM HEAVEN!? Are you kidding me?!”

## “That will be enough, Gabriel.”

The words were both firm but calm. Gabriel looked down into his purple-eyed other standing a mere two feet before him. Standing between him and the stairs, the celestial blade in his hand.

“FINALLY! Where the hell have you been?” He questioned immediately. “Where is Uriel? I’ve had to deal with–”

“There is no time for this petty rivalry.” Raphael looked down at Michael, his face contorting as he reached through the connection and felt his pain. The angel was still limp in Gabriel’s grasp but his body rattled violently with raw emotion. “We must get to Earth. Now.”

“Yes. The  ** _destruction_**  of  _his_  …” Gabriel shook his limp brother. “…  _bastard nephilim_ will come next. But first–”

He saw the sneer curl up on Raphael’s lips and he watched his brother lose all semblance of patience. In one moment, he was standing and then next, he was separated from his two older siblings, on his hands and knees in the dirt before he realized what had happened. He looked up into  _angry_  purple eyes.

“You misunderstand, Gabriel …” Raphael now stood  _between_  him and his brothers. “ _There will be no further destruction_.”

 

* * *

 

**[The Runner - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5m1Cf1syp7HUpb3Tqc4jVn&t=YWUxNmU2MTZlYTJkMTNmZjIyYWE2NTJiNTQ4ZWMzZGUxODJmNzk4NCx2bXQwSHpBSA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167932984798%2Fchapter-104-ouroboros&m=1) **

 

> _He was living his life in a fog_
> 
> _Oblivion’s welcoming arms_
> 
> _His view of society marred_
> 
> _No perception of forces at large_
> 
> _…_
> 
> _“In this world, know one truth: you can’t run from time”_

“ _Phael_  …” Gabriel cocked his head to the right inquisitively as he brushed the dust off from his body. “What are you doing, brother?”

“What I should have already done … a long time ago.” Raphael’s head hung low. “What I should have done before  _this_  happened.”

“Consider your next words  _very_  carefully.” He warned, pointing down to his fallen brothers. Now free from Gabriel’s confines, Ozryel threw herself across Michael, covering him as she glared up at the giant angel with malice in her eyes. “We are bound by  ** _duty_**.”

“Duty?” Raphael spoke in almost a whisper. His words lingered and Gabriel could feel the frustration emanating from him. “And pray tell, who’s  _duty_  would that be brother?”

“There are laws that cannot be broken …  _even by us_.”

“Laws?” Raphael questioned as he glanced down and met Ozryel’s confused eyes. Nodding once to her, he took a step forward and Gabriel stepped back. “Tell me brother … Who’s Laws?”

“You know who’s.” The massive angel’s retreat surprised even himself and Gabriel’s hand instinctively came to touch the hilt of his sword as his eyes caught a glint of light from the celestial blade.

“An absent father? An antiquated system? The only reason these still exist is because  _we_  … ” Raphael waved a hand down and up, indicating  ** _all_**  of his siblings. “The  _four_  of us …  _enforce them_.”

“ _Father will enforce them when he returns_. You have  _seen_  how persuasive he can be.” Gabriel countered. “Phael … What you speak is  _blasphemy_.” It wasn’t a threat. Gabriel’s voice was full of worry. What Raphael was saying … “ _No one_  can change–”

“I think it is finally time.”

“ _What_?” Gabriel squinted. “Time for what?”

“Time I challenged that … ” Raphael addressed his brother with complete confidence. “ _Assumption_.”

There was a moment of silence and Gabriel swallowed hard, looking down at the blade. “Stand aside,  _little_  brother.” He asked again. “Unless you plan on using  _that … against me_  … of all people.”

“Oh this? You think I brought this  _for you_?” Raphael raised an eyebrow as he waved the blade and smiled. “No. I brought this for  _her_.” Never breaking eye contact with his other, the Traveller chucked the blade, giving it a perfect trajectory for Ozryel to pluck it from the air by the hilt. She stood, but Raphael waved her back with a single hand, never turning from Gabriel.

“Allow me a moment to have a  _private_  word with  _my other_. We will meet you down there.”

“Excuse me?” Gabriel laughed out loud. “I don’t think you under–”

“I’ve already sent the  _boy_  ahead of you.” Raphael interrupted and finally looked back to her. “Now go.  _I will handle him._ ”

“Handle me?” Gabriel scoffed with amusement. “I don’t want to hurt you, Phael … but I won’t ask again.”

“I will move, Gabriel …” His voice was deep, vibrating with uncharacteristic menace. As he tilted his head to the right, he smiled as the sparks were already dancing across his skin turned from blue to a dark violet. “ ** _Only … if you are capable of moving me._** ”

  
  


His flawless mocha skin was covered with lightning so bright that Gabriel squinted, his massive arm coming up to shield his eyes from the display of incredible power.

There was a low rumble all around them and the cave shook with ominous rattling as glyphs began to show through his divinity, painted across his arms and chest. The markings began to smoke and a thin purple fire erupted across the entire skin of his torso, searing the top of his robe away in a plume of smoke. Once the clothing was fully ash, it was obvious that the same mark was repeated across his entire body. Over and over again, hundreds of them, across all his visible flesh until they faded away completely.

_It was the Seal of Diminishment._

No one was present but Raphael himself knew what was occuring, because no one but the Wheel and the Creator knew that Raphael had burned the glyphs into his very own bones after Sadum and Amurah, crippling himself that day, promising it would  _never_ happen again.

_Ouroboros._

As he became what he was once before, the serpent within shed these glyphs as if they were an old skin and he stepped forward to greet the power he had always suppressed. Once he took this step, he would not be able to retreat from what would come next. He would be a slave to the power, just as Lucifer had.

From the moment he took Quintus’ memories and he saw the entire conversation with the wheel, he understood  _this_  was her plan.  _This_  was the Wheel’s intention. She had forced his hand.

“Uh oh. Stand up,  _Michael_. Please stand up.” Ozryel attempted to pull her brother to his feet, but the Hayyoth was limp as he still stared into the dark, empty water. “I do not think we want to be around for this. We have to go …  ** _now_**.”

“What are you gonna do?! Blow me up? We’re IMMORTAL!” Gabriel beat his chest like an ape, his voice riddled with amusement and disbelief as he haphazardly spouted off non-insults. The challenge had been made and both beings stared at each other. Palpable excitement danced in the cool breeze brushing passed them. “You  _really_  think you can take me?!”

“It has  _never_  been a question of  _ability_ , Gabriel.” Raphael took a deep breath, fully understanding there would be no going back after this.  _She had forced his hand, hadn’t she?_  He breathed deep. “It was a question of …  _desire_.”

“So …” Gabriel took several steps backwards, kneeling to the ground and retrieving the staff slowly. As he spoke, he pulled its metal into his armour. Raphael smiled at Gabriel’s show of power. He’d always been terrible at the power of creation, the warrior was focused like Raphael had never seen him before. “It’s to be a  ** _real_**  fight then?”

“You’ve  _always_  wanted this …” Raphael smirked with celestial delight. “Haven’t you?”

  
  


“Finally …” Gabriel’s smile matched the intensity of his little brother’s grin. “ _A challenge._ ”

 

* * *

 

Michael snapped back to attention as Ozryel began to drag his limp body up the steps. He reached out to the scene unfolding beneath them and to the younger brothers they left behind. “No …  _no …_  stop …” He tried to pull himself from her grip, but her arms, as frail as they seemed, were locked onto him. “We can’t leave him …  _Gabriel with tear him apart …_ ”

“No. Trust me,  _my brother_  …” Ozryel stopped and smiling down to him, her eyes sparkling with intense pride. “ _He really won’t_.” She tugged at him. “We  _must_  hurry now. Needn’t dally any longer. Our  _children_  need us elsewhere.”

“No …” Michael tried to push her away, but his weakness prevented it.

“There is nothing left for you  _here_  now.” She plead. “There is nothing left for  _either_  of us here. Everything we love is  _there_  … We must go.”

“Just leave me.” She could  _feel_  his anguish. It seeped out of every part of his soul. “I have  _nothing_  now. Let me be punished. I  _should_  punished … I  _deserve_  to be–”

“And her? Does she deserve to be punished as you do?” Ozryel scoffed at his words as she chipped away at his self-hate. “You still have me  _and_  … you still have  _her_.”

“I failed her. I failed  _them both_.”

“Yes.  _You did_. Repeatedly.” Michael looked up at Ozryel, surprised by the harshness of her tone. “So don’t fail her again.” Ozryel was ruthless, but she had no time for this overly dramatic dismay. “Take responsibility for your past. Don’t let  _our children_  pay the price for it.”

Michael finally moved, meeting her gaze slowly as he nodded, allowing her to pull him to his feet and wrap his arm around her shoulder. Her wings spread and she took flight with her beaten  _other_ , flying high and fast towards the gate.

  
  



	81. Visual Aid - An Insatiable Ache Cover

## A book cover for part two of my fic, made with @quintustheinvictus‘s  **phenomenal**  last manip.

_Original art post here: [[X](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/167630405435/i-will-find-that-special-person-who-is-wrong-for)]_

_Thank you[@quintustheinvictus](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com)!!! *kissy face*_

 


	82. Visual Aid - Child of Prophecy

##  _**Equal parts badass and adorable!** _

**Dawn Maxwell**  from The Strain Fanfic:  **Straining for Originality**

_Incredible commission by the phenomenally talented[@verauko](http://verauko.tumblr.com/post/167973054960/dawn-maxwell-oc-comissioned-by)!!!_


	83. 10.5 - Ouroboros

Much like the first time he had visited, the factory was quiet, though the wind was now still. When they drove into the parking area, Quinlan’s mind ached with familiarity, swimming with visions of that night. Those vivid moments before his life would  _forever_ change. As he stepped from vehicle, he was hit with the strong aroma of angelica blood.

George picked up on the same and he mumbled lowly. “Ah crap …”

His soldiers followed him as he entered the complex and found his way to the source of the smell quickly. As he breached the open factory floor, that very same room where  _she_  had saved him the first time he laid eyes on her, he saw the impressive blood pool in the center of the concrete floor.

“Wow. That’s  _a lot_  of blood.” Two Paws pointed out the obvious as Quinlan knelt to it. _Yes_. It was and he smiled, because he knew  _exactly_  whose blood it was.

“ _Hers_?” George questioned. His sense of smell was extraordinary, but apparently not as acute as the dhampir’s. This blood was far richer in angelica than hers.

“No.” Quinlan shook his head. “It is  _Hinon’s_.”

“What?”  _Two Paws_  coughed in disbelief as he chuckled at the absurdity. “Like …  _God of Thunder_ , Hinon?”

“Is he …” George hesitated, swallowing hard as he surveyed the area for a body. “ _Dead_?”

“That is  _very_  unlikely.” Quinlan retorted. “I am not entirely certain he  _can_  die.” Standing, he cocked his head to the right as he took in a breath of another scent hiding under the blood. Fresh paint. He looked at the symbol and followed its borders to another splatter of blood. This blood, he touched with his right middle finger and brought it to his nose for a close assessment.  _Yes_. This blood was  _hers_. 

He began to grumble something lowly to voice his displeasure at this discovery, but then he heard the almost inaudible sound of a nervous heartbeat beating from somewhere close. As he scoured the area from his knelt position, he squinted across the vast factory flood and locked eyes with the bound Djinn king whose head was barely visible behind a large pile of boxes in the corner.

“So, what the hell happened here?” George pressed, showing an uncharacteristic impatience beginning to fester.

“Hmmm. I am uncertain.” The dhampir stood and advanced on the quiet prisoner. “But let us  _ask_ , shall we?”

Barqan was laying on the ground, his mouth gagged and his hands restrained behind his back. When it was suddenly apparent who Quinlan was approaching, George lurched forward. “Great Fire?! Holy shit man! What the hell happ–” The brave’s voice was riddled with burgeoning panic. The man had every intention of freeing the Black King without hesitation, but Quinlan thrust his arm out and stopped the bear-man from darting past.

The next moment would be a test for his soldiers. Where would their loyalties lie? What would their decision be? One look from Quinlan and George stopped in his tracks. George nodded once, taking a deep breath and motioned for the dhampir proceed before him.

_Good. He liked this man._

He had absolutely no intention of immediately freeing the Djinn and he didn’t wish to have an unnecessary altercation with his new soldiers over that fact. He also had concerns that Barqan might choose to flee in a puff of smoke. The look of concerned worry plastered across the Djinn’s face implied this was an possibility.

As the dhampir approached, Barqan’s face was of half torture, half relief. When he was within a few feet, the Djinn thrust his chin towards the floor and motioning towards the glyph painted onto the concrete as best he could in his bound state. Barqan was surrounded by it and Quinlan knelt, pointing at it.

“Does this  _bind_  you,  _Black King_?” He asked, near amusement vibrating in his tone and the Djinn nodded vigorously. A small smile curled up on the corner of Quinlan’s mouth. “ ** _Good_**.” He wasn’t sure if he would be able to reach into the area, but as he did so, nothing stopped him and he pulled the gag down from Barqan’s mouth.

“ _Prince of Snakes_  … ??” Barqan’s swallowed hard. He looked Quinlan up and down as his brows furrowed with confusion. “You are …  _alive_?”

“So it seems.” Quinlan retorted.

“How is this possible?  _The bomb–_ ”  _Enough_. He had no patience left for this  _marid_ , whom he  _once_  considered an ally. Did this being think he would be allowed to  _question_ him? As his fist landed hard across the side of the Djinn’s chin, Barqan crumpled to the ground, whimpering as he collapsed. Quinlan did not actually enjoy being a violent man, but he had been waiting a long time to get his hands on  _this traitor_  in particular.

Waiting until Barqan wiggled himself back up, he struck him again. Quinlan heard shuffling behind him and he waited patiently for the  _men_  to intervene. When no one attempted to stop him, he continued to unleash his pent up anger on the Djinn. It might be prudent to actually let the Black King speak, but Quinlan did not appreciate the past deception. Going forward, it would be best if the Djinn knew such indiscretions would  _not_  be forgiven lightly,  _if at all_. It was also best to show the humans the strength he held, even over a  _Great Fire_  himself.

“Prince of Snakes–” He coughed, swinging his gaze back up to look into Quinlan’s cold eyes and he was struck again. The next time, his gaze stayed on the ground. “I did not intend–”

“Did not  _intend_  what?” Quinlan interrupted before he struck again. “To which  _action_  are you referring,  _Black King_? You did not intend to  _deceive_  me or you did not intend to break the  _promise_  you made to me?”

Barqan’s eyes burned with shame. He shook his head, refusing to speak again, so Quinlan did. “You made me a promise on my final day. Do you recall it?”

“Yes.” The marid’s head swung low. “I … do.”

“Repeat it to me.” Quinlan’s voice was eerily calm and he reached down, tilting Barqan’s face to meet his cold eyes. He wished to see the guilt in the man’s eyes.

“If you did as  _instructed_ , it was promised her existence would remain  _hidden_.”  _Yes_. He struck again. Every punch had been pulled, but this one was unleashed with bubbling anger and Barqan slammed to the ground hard, gasping as his body bounced against the concrete.

“But …” The Djinn stammered. “It was never my intention to  _deceive–_ ” Another strike. Now he spat blood from his mouth. Overall, Quinlan was quite impressed with the amount of damage he was withstanding.  _Good_. He could strike him a good number of times more then. His displeasure towards this being had festered a great deal over the past year.

“You told me … that if the Master  _died_ , I would perish as well.” Quinlan struck the next time with his left hand.

His hand came up, in defense. Attempting to back away from the dhampir, he found himself confined to the small area of the glyph. “ _You_  assumed this. I merely said …  ** _if_** …  ** _if_**  your soul is indeed tied to Ozryel’s, then you would die if he died.”

“You argue semantics  _with me_?!” Quinlan pushed Barqan’s defensive words away, grabbing a handful of his shirt as he yanked the man mere inches from his face. He was losing his calmness as his lips curled up into a vicious snarl and the  _marid_ attempted to pull back in a futile attempt to escape. “You  _KNEW_  Ozryel  ** _could not be destroyed_**!!!”

“How could  _anyone_  know you would survive it?!” Barqan’s eyes flew wide with desperation; his tone demanding  _pity_  from the dhampir . “How could  _anyone_  know what would happen to you,  _prince_?! There has  _never_  been one of your kind before!”

“But … You  _knew_  Ozryel was  _eternal_.” Quinlan gritted his vampiric teeth and his nostril flared wildly. “And … you  _knew_  we could  _hide_  from  _Heaven_. You  _knew_  of the Order of Argaman. You  _knew_  of the Seal of Obfuscation.” Barqan’s innocent charade crumbled and his brows pinched together as total guilt flooded his expression. Quinlan could see the  _marid_  considering explaining this away. Perhaps lies were crossing the Djinn’s mind but he could see the determination in the dhampir’s eyes.

“Yes.” The Djinn relaxed as he surrendered to the questioning and the  _guilt_  of his own actions. His eyes closed tightly and he nodded once. “But not  _once_  did I  _deceive_  you, but that fact … I  _did_  keep from you. Forgive me. I had  _little choice_  in the matter.”

Barqan waited to be struck again and Quinlan released his hold, pushing marid back with exaggerated aggravation as he huffed and stood, turning his back to the bound Djinn as he brought his hand up to cover his face. “Aaaaah!”

There was a silent moment as all eyes watched him crack his neck, regaining his composure and calmness slowly. He tilted his head from side to side and took several deep breaths before spinning to stare at the Djinn again. This was helping nothing. He needed answers. “What occurred here?”

“Release me and …” Barqan hesitated voicing this bargain as Quinlan glared down upon him, but he inhaled and continued the attempt. “I will tell you everything.”

“No.” Quinlan nearly laughed at him. “You will tell me everything and  _then_  I will  _consider_  releasing you.”

“There is no reason for me to–”

“Do not attempt anymore games with me,  _Black King_.” Quinlan curled his fingers into a tight fist. “I am not in the mood for–”

“Really, really don’t wanna interrupt, but …” Both men’s attentions diverted to George as he approached, speaking finally and showing his palms in a non-menacing way to Quinlan. “I can see everyone’s pissed. Tensions are high but do we really have time for this? I mean–”

“If I release him, then he will  _flee_.” Quinlan explained childishly, pointing a blaming finger back towards the prisoner.

“Flee?!” Barqan scoffed at the word, genuinely offended by it. “When have I  _ever_ presented myself as a coward before you?! When have my actions  _ever_  given you that impression?!”

“Hmmm.” The dhampir grumbled lowly; his stinger rattled in his throat. These were fair questions. However much Quinlan disliked him at this moment, Barqan had never been a deserter and in the end, he fought and helped defeat the Master.

“ _You_  are the one who sealed  _my fate_ , Pale One.” Barqan countered with confidence. “Everything that I did–”

“ ** _I_**  sealed  _your fate_?!” Quinlan pointed to his own chest and fought the urge to hit the marid again. “ ** _You_**  are blaming  ** _me_**?!”

“Yes! The moment  _you_  brought  _her_  into my tent,  _you_  sealed  _my fate_ ,  _Pale One_.” Barqan exasperated. “ _Michael_  would have–”

“Ah yes. Here it comes.” Quinlan shook his head in disgust. “Blame  _him_  for your own actions–”

“What would you have had me do!?” Barqan questioned. “What would  _you_  have done in my place? The choice was side with Michael or be  ** _extinguished_**. And you are the one who forced that choice on me.  _You_  brought her to me that day.” Quinlan stared daggers into the  _Black King_. He was unable to argue with the logic of it. “You are angry. I can appreciate that. I can understand it. And you have every right to be, but consider … what would  _you_  have done in my place?”

“Fine.” Locking eyes with George momentarily, Quinlan waved a hand back towards Barqan. “Do as you wish with him.”

As Barqan instructed, George scratched a portion of the paint off with his boot. As he pulled a knife out to free the Djinn from the wire tires which bound his hands, Barqan’s eyes turned a deep crimson and smoke plumed from behind him as the plastic melted and he was entirely free.

“Thank you,  _Little Bear_.” The Djinn clasped a hand on the man’s shoulder. The brave nodded to him, accepting the gratitude fully and Barqan was about to turn and offer the same recognition to Quinlan, but he was met with another savage blow to his jaw. The dhampir moved at a speed too quick for even the  _marid king_  to counter and the strength behind this strike far surpassed the previous ones.

Hitting the ground hard on his back, all air expelled violently from his body. Barqan rolled over and spat out blood onto the ground. He gasped loudly as he touched his jaw with shock, staring into the pool of red liquid he had just deposited on the ground and the tiny white object that had been expelled with it. A single, perfect tooth. Barqan reached into his mouth gingerly and looked for the place it had been dislodged from.

Quinlan had no knowledge of Djinn anatomy, nor of their ability to regenerate, but the look of sheer horror plastered across Barqan’s face pleased him greatly and he offered a hand out to help the Djinn back to his feet. The Black King stared at the gesture for a moment before accepting it and allowing Quinlan to pull him back up.

“You done now?” George asked with disdain from behind.

“Unlikely.” He sneered into the  _marid’s_  broken and bleeding face. “Now …  _what occurred here?_  And leave no detail out.” 

* * *

 

**[Graven Images - Zack Hemsey](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7HlEaiEE2GhOgiymvosX44&t=NGQyYzI2NTkzYzczYzE0NmNjOGI1OThhYjg3M2M4YWI2MzFmY2ExMSxjdmhranU0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168089087938%2Fchapter-105-ouroboros&m=1) **

EL had been looking forward to  _this day_  for nearly ten thousand years, but as the hours rolled on, he was just getting more and  _more_  annoyed. He had forgotten how restrictive and confining this realm was.

The first airfield he found was entirely deserted.  _Fuck_. In fact, the  _entire_  area was deserted. No planes. No people. No cars. No  _fucking_  gas. Not for miles and miles. Rather than wander around like a lost dog, he resigned himself to just returning to where  _he knew there were people and planes_.

They had flown in to a functioning airfield in Philadelphia after all, so he’d just make his way back there … at a painfully slow  _human_  speed. In all his eagerness to be free of his prison, he could have planned it all out better and now he grumbled lowly to himself as he walked along the quiet and desolate road, having run out of gas a little over 2 hours into this ridiculous journey.

If he was human, he would have been too cold to even move. The cold winter wind blew relentlessly through her clothes, but it affected him little and he walked at a brisk pace.

At this rate, it will take him  _days_  to get there.  _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He kicked a rock across the road to release some frustration when he heard the distant sound of an engine.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” He chortled and stepped off the road as he waited for it to approach. Spotting the distant shape coming over the horizon, like a goddamn plebeian, he shoved her hand out and threw her thumb up.

Was he  _seriously_  going to hitchhike?!

 _Uuuuuuugh_. The thought of the action made him cringe, but he took a deep breath. All he needed was the vehicle, right? But a human would die in these conditions and it was probably best not to flag his location to his brothers. His next actions would depend entirely on the character of the driver’s soul.

As he waited for it to approach, he shook off the notion of trying to get the driver to stop and simply stepped out into the middle of the road, putting her thumb away for now. He gripped himself tightly, givings the illusion of extreme coldness and he waited. When it was actually within distance for him to begin to scrape at the surface of  _the man’s_  mind, EL tasted the man’s sins.  

> _Thievery._

The truck, loaded with findings scavenged from deserted homes in the area, began to slow, stopping several feet in front of EL.  

> _Violence._

The driver’s window cranked down and the older man poked his salt and pepper bearded head out, looking EL’s body up and down with an innocent but overly eager smile.  

> _Rape._

“Hey there sweetie … what’re you doin’ way out here all by yourself? You needin’ a ride somewhere?” He was pudgy and enthusiastic. The man grinned foolishly as EL came to the driver side door. Odd the man didn’t think this was strange, but then again, even with her strangely colored eyes, she was less than …  _intimidating_ , wasn’t she? He patted his passenger seat, inviting EL within. “Why do you hop in here where it’s  _warm_.”

“Actually …”  ** _The Devil_**  chortled in her light voice as he placed a hand on the metal of the door. This soul would  _not_  go to his brothers when it parted this world. “I just need a vehicle.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand …” George rubbed his smooth chin as everyone ingested the story Barqan had spun to them: being abducted, forced to forge another celestial weapon, and witness to the crushing defeat of Hinon. “If she’s only  _half_  a Thunder, how could she–”

“Unfortunately, she has  _powerful_  help.” Barqan stated, staring at Quinlan as he attempted to read the lack of emotion from the dhampir. It was clear the marid was nervous to utter his next words.

“But who  _could_  help someone defeat a  _Thunder_?” Two Paws asked.

“He has many names to many peoples. Uktena to the Cherokee. Apotamkin to the Maliseet. Mehne. Maneto. And your people know him as … [Oniare](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.native-languages.org%2Fmorelegends%2Foniare.htm&t=OGJiNjBkN2E1NGIzNDNlYzY4NDlkOGNkMjc2NjUxMDUzMjhhNTExMyxjdmhranU0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168089087938%2Fchapter-105-ouroboros&m=1).” Barqan confessed.

For the first time since they had arrived, Jacks spoke. He did so very rarely. “ _The Great Snake_?”

“The mortal enemy of  _Hinon_. Makes sense.” George followed up the question. “But he was defeated a long time ago …”

“As the Prince already pointed out … there is no  _true_  defeat for their kind.” The  _marid_ began to explain. “Oniare to the Iroquois, but to others, he is known as–”

“ ** _Lucifer_**.” Quinlan interrupted.

“Yes.” Barqan wasn’t entirely surprised that Quinlan already knew, but something itched in his mind as he realized the dhampir likely knew  _far more_  than he was letting on. “The Morning Star himself.”

“What? Are you serious?” Two Paws laughed, but no one joined him and an uncomfortable nervousness befell the group. “O … kay … ”

“What exactly are we dealing with here, Great Fire?” George questioned immediately.

“I fear it is the End of Days,  _my child_.” The Black King spoke with brutal honesty. “For there is none in existence as dangerous as The Rainbow Child–”

“You have met him?” Quinlan came to life.

“I have.  _Unfortunately_.” Barqan answered. “His power only  _rivaled_  by the Great Spirit itself.”

“Power …” Quinlan repeated the word. “ _Power_  …” The dhampir stared down at the ground and the smallest of grins tugged at the corner of his mouth. Barqan could see something sweeping across his mind and everyone watched silently as he fished a phone from his cargo pants and began a call.

He appreciated Ferraro’s responsiveness as the man answered in less than half a ring. “Signore … Did you find–”

“I require Miss Vel–” Quinlan caught himself mid-sentence. “Mrs. Fet’s current location.”

“Signore?” Antonio countered. “I was told to keep her at a distan–”

“Did I stutter, Antonio?”

“Un momento.” Quinlan waited patiently as he heard rushed typing on the other end. “She has  _actually_  proven quite difficult to keep tabs on.” Quinlan grinned fully now. He expected as much. He was glad some things hadn’t changed. More typing and the man grumbled on the other end. “Incazzato! I swear  _this woman_  must change her phone every few hours …”

“ _Antonio_?”

“I am sorry, Signore. I can have Gianni take a look, but she uses  _proxies for everything_.”

“And this is  _hindering_  you?” Quinlan wasn’t sure the implication of that word.

“The last actionable location we had on her was an airport in Philadelphia, but that was  _last week_.”

“Do you happen to have a  _number_  for her?”

“I can send it. But it is likely no longer in use. She tends to cycle through those several times a day as well. She proves very paranoid.”

“For good reason, it seems.” It was in that moment that he heard the distant sound of an car engine. “Send the number.”

He hung up the phone without even uttering a farewell, shoving it back into his pocket as he approached the windows to peer out. None of the others had even heard it yet, but he squinted out across the road catching a small glimpse of the tiny object bounding its way towards them.

_Hmmm._

Stepping back, he pulled the hood over his bare head as he caught the concerned look on George’s face and the bear man picked up the sound of the approaching vehicle even before the  _marid_  did.

“Who is it?” George pressed as Quinlan walked past them, making his way back towards the entrance of the complex.

“I am unsure. But let us go to greet them, shall we?” Without hesitation, his three soldiers were in tow behind him, readying their weapons and Barqan paused momentarily. The marid was clearly annoyed that the Onondagan were no longer taking orders from  _him_ , but he followed begrudgingly.

By the time they were nearing the lobby of the complex, the car had already parked and four people had entered the building. Quinlan relaxed, swinging the rifle to his back as he recognized the voices emanating from the adjacent room. He waved for the men behind him to relax.

They were less than  _stealthy_  as they couldn’t stop talking amongst themselves and Quinlan held in a chuckle. To his own shock, his heartbeat jumped slightly and he realized he was quite nervous. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d actually  _missed_  these people.

And then he heard an easily recognizable voice with a thick German accent. Perhaps he shouldn’t put his weapon away quite yet.

_Hmmm._

Quinlan pulled his hood down even further.

 

* * *

 

**[White Sun - Dawn Golden](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F50iWjUXSRO5nhNTbngICSX&t=ZWMzMTdhNDNiMzk5N2U4ZWU3YmU3Mjk0NDMxZGVkN2YwZmFiNDU4NCxjdmhranU0UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168089087938%2Fchapter-105-ouroboros&m=1) **

> _Down by the sea_
> 
> _Take love and give love_
> 
> _It’s got to be free_

“Proceed with caution.” Thomas said as he pointed to the door they approached. “We are not alone.”

“No shit,  _Sherlock_.” Gus countered, animosity rich in his tone. “That truck outside didn’t drive itself here.”

Fet’s index finger came to his lips as he shushed his overly vocal companions and stood to the side of the door, grabbing the handle and looking at them for reassurance that they understood what he was intending to do. He brought two fingers to his eyes, then he pointed them to the Boxer and motioned for Dutch to come to the side of him.

Gus stood to the other side of the door and nodded for Fet to pull it open wide. It all happened in a matter of seconds and the Boxer charged through the door and disappeared into the darkness beyond with a gasp. Then there was complete silence.

Fet looked back at Dutch and then to Thomas, who shrugged in response. The strigoi’s face changed from confusion to concern as he started to back up from the door, his head down and cocking to the left and right as he listened. Fet took a deep breath, with every intention of following Gus into the unknown, but a figure stepped forth with the Boxer in its grip. Its was clad in army fatigues and its hooded head was protected from site behind the Boxer.

Gus was now facing forward and a thick arm wrapping around his neck prevented him from turning around. The boxer’s gun was now pressed against his own temple and Gus tried to speak but found he was unable to make a noise as the figure’s grip tightened around his throat.

Fet and Dutch raised their pistols, but neither had a clear enough shot with their friend in the way and so they hesitated.

“Perhaps next time,  _Mr. Elizalde_  …” A familiar voice spoke from beneath the hood. “It would be best to not lead too far with your weapon.”

The Boxer’s eyes grew wide. His fighting ceased and the figure released him. Gus swung around quickly to look into his captor face and the figure handed the gun back to him, handle first. Dutch was already stepping forward, squinting to get a better view as he pulled the hood back, revealing himself. Entirely at a loss of what to do, Fet’s mouth simply fell agape.

“ _What_  … “ Dutch took another step forward. “ _The_  … “ And then another and another. “ _SHIT_!?!” She was right in front of him when Fet finally managed a single whispered word.

“ _Quinlan_?”

“ _What the shit_?” Dutch asked again as the dhampir looked down into her face, a small grin creeping across his mouth.

“Hello again, Miss Velders.” He said warmly, quite pleased with himself, as usual. “Or should I say …  _Mrs. Fet_?” 

Any desire to embrace him quickly dissolved and she sneered instead, swinging a hand around and hitting him in the bicep as hard as she could manage. “ _What is_ ** _wrong_**   _with you_?!?” Quinlan’s grew wide with shock over the reaction, his smile faded and he made no movement as she struck him again. “ ** _WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN_**!?!” Her outpouring of emotion continued and she hit him on the arm  _again_ , her eyes filling with angry tears as her voice rose.

“ _Dutch_  …” Fet tried to step forward to halt the irrational assault by his wife, but Quinlan’s arms were already gripping her shoulders,, as he watched the dhampir do something he had  _never_  seen before.

“ _Where THE BLOODY HELL have you_   ** _been_**?!” She was still attempting to strike him, but he gripped her close to his body, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her so tightly, she couldn’t move. As she surrendered into the strangely affectionate hold, she sobbed furiously into his chest. “ _We needed you … Where have you been … We_ ** _needed_**   _you … she needed you!_ ”

“I am here now.” He consoled her softly, rocking her ever so slightly as he spoke, closing his eyes as he exhaled. His voice was rich with uncharacteristic emotion and sweetly bitter relief. “ _I am here now. I am returned._ ”

 _Ouroboros_. 


	84. 10.6 - Ouroboros

**[It’s Not Over - Zola Jesus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4Wxzyu50hN73hN4Kmg2xVY&t=NjJjZDczNzYxMjM2NGY3YTcxZjAxMzZjMzY4YzJhYmRhYzVmN2Q0NixEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1)** /

> _You want to forget all the nights and days out on the hunt_
> 
> _You want to forget, but you can no longer push it off_
> 
> _It’s not over tonight_
> 
> _It’s not over tonight_

_All eyes_  were on him. Even those peeking from the safety of the dark hallway behind him. Finally, he peeled the hacker away from his chest. Looking down at her for compliance, she nodded and stepped back. It seemed as though Mr. Fet would be next, but he was apprehensive about approaching, watching the dhampir from afar in utter silence.

“Greetings again, Mr. Fet.” It seemed that was all the man needed for reassurance and the Ukrainian sprung forward.

“Quinlan …  _I_  …” It was a moment of painful hesitation and Quinlan held back a cringe. He could see it in Fet’s eyes. There would be  _another embrace_. He could  _refuse_  it before it began, but he would not. All in all, the old Quinlan would have fundamentally detested it, but he had grown much in his time …  _away_.

The man wrapped his massive arms around the dhampir entirely for one very brief and intensely tight hug, Quinlan found himself  _nearly_  smiling. He quickly wiped the  _near_ grin from his face as Fet pulled back, giving him a pat on the arm before exhaling with relief. “ ** _I never been so happy ta see anyone in my whole damn life …_** ”

“It is  _good_  to see you as well …” Quinlan turned, catching a glimpse of Gus. He expected something similar from the Boxer, but something was off about the human’s demeanour. Gus stared at the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Mr. Elizalde.”  

Quinlan acknowledged him, but the Boxer’s physical cues concerned him. Perhaps he was annoyed with Quinlan’s disarmament of him earlier? He thought he had been quite careful not to harm him. Either way, his attention shifted and Quinlan found himself unable to tear his eyes from the strigoi who was attempting to be as quiet and small as possible in the corner.

“Where you been, man?” Gus asked, still not meeting his gaze even as he spoke.

“I’ll be surprised If you can get him to answer that question …” George surprised everyone as he entered the room. “Cause we keep askin’.”

“What the …  _Jorge_???” Gus came to life and he smiled as he stepped forward and greet the Onondagan. He grabbed the man’s hand, interlocking their grasps and giving each other a fleeting pat on the back in a masculine embrace. “Holy shit man, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Uh … You two know each other?” Dutch asked curiously as she watched the  _other_ men enter the lobby behind him.

“Yeah … yeah.” Gus nodded. “Remember the badass  _Animal People_  I was tellin’ you guys about?”

“We prefer  _Onondagan_.” George laughed out loud at the title. “Or simply just  _Iroquois_.”

“Huh. Don’t mean to be judgemental, but  _that one_  doesn’t look like an Iroquois to me.” Dutch thrust a chin towards Barqan and the Djinn stepped forward immediately.

“Allow me a proper introduction.” The  _marid_  requested her hand with an innocent white smile. Dutch surrendered to his grip, but she was expecting a shake. As he brought her hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the skin of her knuckles tenderly, he introduced himself. “I am [Barqan Abu al-‘Adja'yb](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FBarqan&t=ZTU1NjVjMTQ1ZTk5MDZhNzE3ZmNlZTM5YWMyYjE3OTI1NzY5YjY1MSxEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1) of the Fires.  _Two Thunders_. The Black King.”

“O… kay …” Dutch’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

 _Oh good lord._  The dhampir was immediately reminded of Barqan’s reaction to Dr. Rubinstein. Quinlan rolled his eyes as he  _heard_  the muscles in Fet’s body tense at the show of attraction. “Yes, yes.  _He is a Djinn Lord_. Please, we have no time for this. We must–”

“A …  _Djinn_  …?” Fet’s nostrils flared in confusion. “You mean, like Genie in a Bot–”

“No man.  _Where you been_?” Gus prodded again and everyone turned to him.  _Ugh._ “We thought the bomb …” Quinlan could ignore the question again, but he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to avoid by withholding answers from them. Perhaps he was hesitant to  _voice_  what had occurred because it was so …  _unbelievable?_  His lips parted and as he was about to speak, the strigoi beat him to his punch line.

“He was  _dead_ , Mr. Elizalde.” Thomas spoke quietly from the corner.

“Yes.” Quinlan nodded. “Quite.”

“But, you went  _boom_.” Fet swallowed hard, looking the dhampir up and down. “How’s dat even possible?”

“ _My body was ash_.” Quinlan explained. “And then … It was not. I was reformed.”

“That’s not possible?” Dutch asked. It was both a statement  _and_  a question. It was not … was it?

“In my time away, I have learned  ** _there are no myths_** , Mrs. Fet.” Quinlan explained. “ ** _O_** ** _ **nly** truths_**  …”

“I’m not following you, love.” She shook her head in her confusion.

“There are stories of  _creatures_  who possess the ability to rise from their own ashes, are there not?”

“Yeah, but dos are …” Fet caught himself form using the next word as Quinlan’s statement began to  _dawn_  on them.  _Myths_. Those were just …  _myths_. “…  _just stories …_ “

“Before the outbreak, did you not think the same of  ** _vampires_**?  _Of Animal People? Of Djinn?_ ” Quinlan glanced around. “Of  _Angels_  and …  ** _Gods_**?”

“Fair enough …” Dutch said. “This is fucking  _crazy_.”

“Of course …  _Bird of Fire_.” Barqan breathed a heavy breath from behind him and the Djinn nearly laughed at the revelation of it. “Of course. You have  _always_  rumbled like a fledgling  _bennu_. You are  _Hayyoth_.”

“Reformation was …  _difficult_.” Quinlan confessed. “I would  _not_  recommend it. It was  _incredibly_  displeasing.” He shuddered as he remembered the act. “And … it required substantial …  _heavenly_  assistance.”

“Wait … You were  _in Heaven_? Like,  _actual Heaven_?” Fet’s childlike enthusiasm leaked into his question. “What was it like? Was da Professor der? Eph? Nora?  _My dad_???”

“Mr. Fet, Abraham remains as defiant as ever … “ He considered voicing  _nothing_  about it. It was a slippery slope, but the relief that washed over Fet’s face was well worth  _this_ disclosure. “But I would prefer to keep on  _task_  for the moment.” Quinlan turned to Dutch. “I assume you are here because you have been  _tracking_  her? Yes?” Dutch grinned and nodded. “ _Good. Show me_.”

The group moved towards exit the building with Dutch leading, speaking as she walked briskly. “We haven’t had another signal spike to track since–”

“Wait …  _Prince_  …” Barqan interrupted, reaching a hand out to halt them. “I know you wish to keep her existence secret, but the severity of this has gone  _far beyond the need to protect one single soul’s existence–_ ”

“That matters no longer. Due to what occurred  _here_ , her existence is known  _to all The Brothers_  now.” Quinlan interrupted him. “Right now, we need to find her before  _Lucifer_ can cause further harm.”

“Ah, yeah …  _him_. So Eichhorst wasn’t lying, huh?” Dutch asked the question, but it was obvious it was more of a statement of her own concern over the subject of …  _him_. “This is all a bit crazy, amiright?”

“Uhhh … Crazier than a  _vampire apocalypse_?” Fet countered.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok. True.” She surrendered.

“If it is known … “ The Black King brought the conversation back around again. “Will  _Heaven_  not move to help? Where is  ** _Michael_**? If The Four know of the Fifth’s rise, why are they not here? Where is–”

“ _Heaven_  is currently …”  _Hmmm_. How to put this in a succinct way? He didn’t feel like explaining anything but the Djinn’s eyes were wide with apprehensive eagerness. Barqan was not going to let this slide and Quinlan should really be careful about how much to reveal. It was unclear what was occurring there at the moment anyways. “ ** _Indisposed_**.”

“In… disposed?” Barqan coughed. “What does that even mean? But you have just said you returned through  _aid_  from–”

“Barqan, we must focus on  _this_  right now. I am  ** _quite certain_**  there is currently a  _revolution_  under way.” The dhampir confessed. He expected immediate questioning from the Djinn, but instead the Hacker jumped in.

“A  ** _revolution_**  in Heaven, huh?  _And …_ ” She raised an accusatory eyebrow. “Did you happen to play any part in that?”

Quinlan fought the smirk that nearly escaped.  _Yes. Yes he did._   ** _Obviously_**   _he did._ “Regardless …  _We are on our own for now_.” He looked back to the strigoi, still standing absolutely silent in the corner. Quinlan examined him up and down carefully, cocking his head to the right as his stinger rattled. “Explain to me why  _the lap dog_  is here again?”  

“Well … “ Dutch fumbled with her words. “He was helping  _her_. And then there was a bloody  _angel_ , some tornados. Your elevator is destroyed, by the way. We didn’t do that.” Dutch was rattling off nonsense and Quinlan’s brows pinched with confusion.  _Elevator_?  _His elevator_? What in the world was she talking about? “The Governor told us to get information from him, and now he’s helping  _us_  … well … we’re  _all_  helping each other–”

“We are  _all_  on the same side,  _Born_.” Thomas clarified, clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie and mustered the courage to finally step forward.

“Hmmmm.” Quinlan doubted this  _very much_ , so he would need to test this statement. “ _Your Master is_   ** _gone_**. He is defeated.  _I was victorious_.”

“Nein.  _My Master is … eternal_. [Unsterblich](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fde%2FImmortal&t=NzA1ZDQzZWZjZWE2OTkzNzk0NGE0NTBmZDlkNzkxMjIxMTgzM2ExNCxEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1).” Thomas refused the words. “Like you, he cannot die–”

“Hear me well,  _vile creature_. Listen carefully to the absolute truth in my words.” Quinlan took a step forward, placing himself between the Nazi and his human friends, just in case the disclosure might insight retribution. The strigoi was old and fast, but Quinlan was so much more. “ _Your Master, as he was_ , is no more. He was sent into oblivion and non-existence. All that is left now is Ozryel and  _that angel is nothing like the fragment you once knew_.”

“You met … him?  _Ozryel_? ” Thomas eyes widened. His expression was a torment of half-hope and half-agony. “ _The Angel of Death_?”

“Yes. I would  _not_  be here had it not been for  ** _her_**  assistance.” Quinlan confessed, sneering as he spoke. “I consider Ozryel  _an ally_. A title I would  ** _never_**  bestow upon  _Your Master_.”

Quinlan closed the distance between them, bringing his face menacingly close to the strigoi’s. His breath was warm against Thomas’ skin as he pulled back his teeth and bared his teeth to the servant. If would be  _best_  and  _easiest_  to just kill the creature here. “Dutch says  _you helped her_?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Quinlan pressed. This wasn’t a  _good_  or  _honorable_  creature. There had to be more to it than this.

“She gave me little choice in the matter,  _my lord_.”

“Heh.” The dhampir chuckled with pride. “Did she now?” He was surprised by this fact. After the stories she had told him of this creature’s  _brutality_  against her, Quinlan would have sent him to  _hell_  the first chance he had.

“She is  _much_  changed from the  _pathetic thing_  that we took from  _that airport_.” Thomas was amused by his own words. He was focused on his own amusement so much, he had failed to see the effect the words were having on Quinlan as the dhampir remembered her story of torture and pain. Of chains and whips. Of  _agony_  and  _poetry_. Two words lingered on the edge of his mind as his blood began to  _boil_.  _Pathetic? Thing?_  “I assume  _you_  are responsible for  _that change_  in her–”

There was no longer any distance between them. Quinlan was slowly realizing that he was  _much_  stronger and faster than he previously was. In the moment before he reached for the strigoi, he saw sparks of purple danced across his vision and he understood why.  _The Traveller’s_  divinity still lingered in his system. It was rich and powerful and  _painful_ , far more than Ozryel’s divinity ever had been. His hand was around Thomas’ throat and he squeezed.  _This most delicate_  strigoi skin was sensitive to torment and the Nazi’s legs buckled immediately under the pressure.

“Pathetic thing?” Quinlan repeated the words. “How pathetic is it of  _you_  that you could not even keep such a  _pathetic thing_  caged then?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Fet said somewhere behind him. “Hey, hey, hey!”

“Everyone just needs to calm–” George tried also. The Onondagan was likely getting tired of Quinlan’s more violent nature.

“Apologies …” Thomas did nothing to defend himself as he knew there was no purpose. He allowed the dhampir to dominate him. Keeping his arms resting at his side, he stared up into the  _Born’s_  eyes. “If you kill me …” He coughed through the increasing pressure on his throat. “You will send my soul directly to  _him_ –”

Quinlan applied the perfect amount of tension to ensure no further words might escape the strigoi. “And you would betray us? This is your threat, creature?” He scoffed, remembering the deep scars across her back, remembering the Nazi’s action on that rooftop. He recalled the sound of the Nazi’s stinger piercing the skin of her arm. He shuddered at the recollection and considered ripping the Nazi’s head from his shoulders. “Is eternal damnation not the reward you  _so richly deserve_  for  _all_  of your crimes,  _dog_?”

“No.” Barqan argued from behind. “He does not threaten,  _Prince_. It is a statement and unfortunately, he is  _right_. He would have  _little choice in the matter_. The Morning Star can rip whatever he wishes from your mind, voluntary or not.”

 _Hmmm_. Quinlan would have been reluctant to accept this had he not actually  _known_ the pain of having one’s mind ripped open by a Hayyoth. Releasing his hold, Thomas stumbled back against the wall. It took a moment to regain his composure and when he did, Thomas adjusted his tie and stood up straight.

“You helped her.” Quinlan took a deep breath and calmed himself. “I give you the option to continue to do so or to just leave now. Stay here if you wish. But know that if you choose to accompany us, you do so knowing your  _Master_  is  _gone_.”

“Lucifer is not  _my_  ally.” Thomas challenged the offer. “If what you say is true, then without  _My Master_ , his reign would be  _hell_  for me, the same as  _you all_. Nevertheless …” Thomas sighed. “She  _spared_  me from his wrath …”

“Ok, so … “ George waved a hand at Quinlan and the dhampir turned to the rest of the group. “You done yet?”

_Hmmmm._

_Perhaps?_

* * *

“I still got no bloody signal out here.” Dutch complained, staring down at her phone as they walked outside and she lead them to the trunk of their rental car.

“I believe I have  _signal_.” Quinlan fished Dawn’s broken phone out of his pocket, typed in the code and tried to hand it to her. “Do you need to call someone?”

“Call? No. No, no, no.” She laughed at his ignorance. “Wait … you have signal? Bloody hell. What carrier are you on?” She looked down at the screen and then pushed it back to him. “Heh, you’re so cute. I need  _internet connection_ , love. At least 3G. No worries though. I got it covered.”

Fet opened the trunk with the button on the key fob and Quinlan peered curiously at all the electronic equipment tucked within. Dutch began with fishing out an extra large pelican case, pulling it out and setting it gently on the ground. Her face was a combination of excitement and pride as she opened the case zealously and pulled a strange device from it. Quinlan watched with amazement as she unhooked clasps and twisted knobs. Pulling it upright, the dhampir finally understood what it was and he smiled. It was a portable satellite dish.

“Yo!” She called over to the silent Boxer. “Get me the battery from the backseat love?”

“You got it.” He complied.

The next thing she pulled out was a bulky laptop. She glanced up into the cloudy sky and sighed. “Hopefully it’s not  _too overcast_.” Quinlan watched with quiet curiosity as Dutch fumbled with all the equipment and when he glanced over to Fet, the massive man shrugged with a laugh.

“What?” Dutch spun and commented on her husband’s laugh. As she caught a glimpse of Quinlan’s raised eyebrow, she defended herself. “ _Don’t judge me_. Like I keep sayin’ … I ain’t  _never_  gonna be offline again.”

“No judgements here.” Quinlan confessed. “I am actually quite relieved in fact.”

“You ain’t seen  _nothing_  yet.” She bragged as she typed “Wait til you see the setup I have at the  _compound_. It’s fucking  _brilliant_.”

“Compound?” Quinlan asked.

“Uh yeah …” Fet shuffled. “ _We rented an island._  You know, figured it would keep us safer from da  _munchers_. It was Gus’ idea.”

“ ** _Oh shit, dude …_** ” Dutch spun around again, standing as her eyes grew wide with worry. “We … uh …  _we uh … we already spent some of your money_.”

“Some?” Fet coughed as he scratched the back of his neck guiltily. “I think it’s more than just  _some_.”

“ ** _My money_**?” Quinlan inquired. His voice was ripe with burgeoning annoyance. “ _Miss Veld– … Dutch … you were instructed to_   ** _give it to her_**.”

“Yeah, yeah. I gave her what you wanted. I mean the money  _you gave us_. Are you gonna, uh, want that …” It was obvious she didn’t even want to  _ask_ , so instead she just offered a pay back. “Sorry. You were  _dead_. We’ll get  _all that_  back to you–”

“Miss Velders …”  _Hmmm. Mrs. Fet._  He repeated it in his mind twice.  _Mrs. Fet_. It will be difficult to make that change apparently. He grabbed her shoulders. “ _Dutch_  … you are free to keep what I gave you. That  _was not even my money_.”

“What?” Fet’s upper lip curled with confusion. “What do ya mean it wasn’t  _yours_. You gave us  _someone else’s money_? When did you have time to  _rob_  anyone?”

“Of course I did not give  ** _you_**  my money.  _That was for her._ ” Quinlan waved them off. “I simply gave you what was left of the Ancient’s money that I knew of. Residuals funds after the acquisition of the  _Lumen_.”

“Oh … huh. Ok.” Dutch was both pleased and  _slightly_  insulted by his answer. But the insult quickly melted away and she smiled before returning to tweaking the dish placement. “ _Phew_.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan stood and waited while the majority of the other people made some comment about it being “cold as fuck” when the wind began to assault them and most opted to wait in the building. Gus had made himself acquainted with the braves and seemed to be avoiding the dhampir entirely. Only Fet, Dutch, and Quinlan remained standing at the back of the car.

As the others retreated back into the building, Quinlan flicked his chin towards the Boxer. “He is angry with me.”

Dutch peered back over her shoulder to verify who he was referring to. “Nah, love. I think …” There was discomfort in her voice and he could see she wasn’t speaking bluntly with him. “He’s disappointed.”

“Disappointed? In me? For leaving or for returning? If it had been  ** _my choice_** , I assure you I  _would_  have stayed. Without hesitation.” Quinlan’s brows pinched together. “I hope you at least realize that,  _Mrs. Fet_.”

“Yeah, I do. But nah. He’s not disappointed  _in you_ , love. I think he’s disappointed in  _himself_  mostly. I think he feels  _guilty_.”

“Guilty over what?” There was a hesitation and Dutch shrugged. Her innocence was feigned and Quinlan pressed. “Dutch?”

“You asked him to protect her … “

"I do not blame him for  _this_. This was  _not_  his fault.” Quinlan looked at the building, wondering about his friend within. “This is a war of  _gods_. None of you are at fault for–”

“It’s not just that …” Dutch shuffled nervously as the breeze blew across her skin. Embracing herself, she rubbed her arms up and down hoping that friction would generate some heat. “Listen,  _you_  should talk to him, yeah? It’s not my place.”

Quinlan could see a deflection. He could just drop the subject, but there was clearly more to this and Dutch really didn’t wish to disclose whatever it might be.  _Hmmm._ “Dutch, whatever you might be hidi–” In the middle of his sentence, the laptop  _dinged_.

“AH! Saved by the bell!” Dutch turned her full attention to the laptop on the trunk.

 _Hmmm_. Quinlan squinted at her. What would she need  _saving_  from? He would let this go for now, but this topic would be revisited, he promised himself.

After several seconds of typing, she shook her head. “Bollocks. No. Nope. Nope.” She turned. “Nothing yet.”

Quinlan stared at the map on her screen and then at the keys as if he might try something himself. “Are you certain? Can you try again?”

“Trust me,  _love_. When she’s  _ON_  … she’s really  ** _ON_**. There were a couple of  _blips_  near Syracuse and a  _massive signal pulse_  from the middle of lake Ontario. We were going to check out those next …” She pointed to the location on the map.

One was a  _Black Site_. He pointed. “That one was my …” Rebirth? Reincarnation? Reformation? “ _Re-entry_.”

The other one was the cabin. He tapped it on the screen. “She is not  _there_. We have  _just_  come from that location.”

“Well shit then.” Dutch shrugged. “So we’re just back to waiting then.”

“No. We should not stay idle. In the meantime, we can prepare.” Quinlan looked around at the factory and considered all their options. He pulled the phone from his pocket and ran his finger across the broken screen. Each time he saw the cracked device, his heart ached. He flicked to the call history and tapped on Ferraro’s name. “Can you track while we are mobile?”

“Of course. It’s all runnin’  _in the cloud_.”

“Signore? Did you find–?” Ferraro picked up immediately, as always.

“I require air travel.”

Typing. “Are you capable of driving or do you require a pick up?”

“I have a vehicle.”

“I would suggest driving to Philadelphia then. I can have a plane hired to meet you at a closer airport, but the plane Mrs. Sertorius hired is still waiting there. It would be quickest.”

“She flew in there?” Quinlan asked for verification. If this was her point of entry, then it may be her default place of exit.

“Sì.”

“Have it ready. We will be leaving immediately. There will be eight passengers.”

“ _Eight_ , Signore? You will not be travelling alone? Did you find–”

“No. Not yet.” Quinlan rarely travelled with  _anyone_  else. Rather than answer the question and repeat himself, he looked down at his absurd camouflage clothing. The rifle was useful, but it was clunky and he was desperate to have his preferred guns back. “Is the stock house in Philadelphia still …  _in order_?”

“Sì. The …  _nutrients_  … “ Ferraro had always disliked the thought of  _blood_. “Are most definitely  _bad_ , but everything else should still be stocked. With the country in disarray, it has been difficult to guarantee–”

Quinlan hung up the phone and turned to Dutch. She had been listening intently.

“So … ” She asked eagerly. “Where we goin’ then?”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan informed them that they were leaving  _now_. Everyone moved at the command except Barqan, and the dhampir turned to face him. It was mostly so the  _Djinn_  could see the displeasure on his face, but Barqan hesitated still.

“What’s wrong?” George picked up on the  _Great Fire’s_  apprehension.

“There is  _something_  we  _must_  address first.” Barqan uttered before disappearing back into the bowels of the building. Quinlan followed quickly and everyone fell in line behind them as Barqan navigated through the buildings, back to the massive factory floor with the pool of blood in its very center.

“Dat’s a lot of blood.” Fet pointed out the obvious.

“Holy fuck …  _who died here_?” Dutch gagged at the site.

“What do you need, Barqan?” George asked and the Djinn pointed to the blood.

“We cannot just leave this here. It is  _far too_  dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Fet curled up his mouth at the word. “It infected or something? Who’s blood is dat?”

“It is Michael’s.” Quinlan answered curtly.

“ _Shiiiiit_  … We ain’t seen him since  _Rome_. Is he dead?” Fet gasped. “Who da fuck coulda …”

The look on Quinlan’s face was a clear hint to the man at whom the  _attacker_  had been and Fet shook his head at the notion, refusing to believe it. “Nah man … nah. How could she? She’s like … miniature.” Fet made a motion to indicate her short stature and Quinlan cocked his head to the side in exasperation.

“No. Nope. No.  _She wouldn’t–_ ” Dutch began a blatant denial but Thomas interrupted her defensive words.  

“Regardless of her stature, she is strong enough to do  _many_  things now, and she is  _quite_  angry with the  _Governor_.”

“And rightly so.” The dhampir sneered at the thought of that  _Angel_.

“ _Bollocks_.”

“Enough.” Quinlan silenced them all. “Enough discussion. We need to be moving. How does one dispose of such  _a mess_?” He moved the conversation back to the task at hand and asked the  _Djinn_  point blank.

“You cleanse it.” Barqan’s eyes began to burn a crimson red as he knelt at the edge of the pool. “With  _fire_.” As he reached out to the pool, his entire body began to smoke. Quinlan heard murmuring from behind and a whispered “ _what in the shit_ ” from Dutch as the  _Djinn_ ’s body began to dance in smoke.

“Perhaps …” Thomas spoke up loudly. “We should consider something else first?” Barqan and Quinlan eyed him suspiciously. “If a rebellion is,  _indeed_ , underway, as you say …”

“ _Out with it already._ ” Quinlan grumbled, growing impatient. Why were they  _still_  here?! He had been waiting for  _so long_  to get back here … to get back to …

“If what you say is true. We  _cannot_  be certain who will win. We should be  _prepared_  for an … unfavorable outcome.”

“And your point?” Barqan asked. “Prepare how?”

“This …” The Nazi pointed. “… is the blood of the  _Brother who Binds_. The blood of a Hayyoth, which can activate divine glyphs.”

“And?” Quinlan sighed. “What do you think needs  _glyphing_?”

“Not  _what_ , my lord, but  _whom_  …” Thomas chortled as he unbuttoned his jacket and pulled his shirt open and over to reveal the  _obfuscation_  glyph. “I would suggest, while we have access to this power, everyone be hidden.”

“ _Hmmm_.” Indeed. Quinlan nodded. He  _hated_  to agree with this cretin, but he actually made a valid point. The last thing they needed was  _Gabriel_  on their heels. “Very well.” Thomas moved to a table and picked up a rusty box cutter, smiling madly as he clicked the mechanism to push the blade out.

“Wait …  _what_? Do what exactly?” Dutch’s eyes stared at the razor blade as Thomas approached them.

“Yo, you ain’t doing nothin’ with that, esé!” Gus reached for the gun tucked in the front of his pants and Quinlan stepped forward, his hands up to diffuse the Boxer’s irrational reaction.

“What are you all?” Barqan bellowed from behind. “ ** _Barbarians_**? Goodness. Allow me, please.” The  _Djinn_  stepped forward and took the blade from Thomas, melting it instantly in his smoking hands as he shook his head with disapproval. Next, he contorted Thomas’ arm around in various angles, allowing himself a better view of the tattooed symbol. Finally, the  _marid_  held out his other hand and, slowly, the symbol began to burn in fiery amber across his open palm. “Alright, who is first then?”

“Oh it’s not just  _cuttin’_? Now you wanna  _burn_  us.  _What part of_  ‘ ** _hell nah’_**  didn’t you get,  ** _puto_**?” The Boxer already had the gun in his shaking grip.

 _Good lord. Such children!_  Nothing has changed, has it? Some part of that statement was oddly comforting and Quinlan stepped forward to diffuse the man again. “How about … I go first?” He offered. Perhaps if he relented to it  _first_ , the others would be more  _compliant_. Otherwise, he would just hold Gus down and … “Mr. Elizalde, it is  _absolutely_  necessary though. This is not a request.”

“Where will you have it, Prince?” Barqan waited as his eyes and hand retained their deep crimson hue.

 _Hmmm._  Best no where visible. He had always quite disliked the human obsession of pushing  _ink_  into their skin. The symbols never faired well with age and rarely seemed worth the effort. Perhaps just the same location that Ozryel put it before then. He turned his back to the group and peeled his shirt up. “Here. On the blade of my shou–”

“Whoa.” Dutch stammered. “What the  _hell_  …”

Quinlan attempted to peer over his shoulder, but it was a foolish attempt. It was impossible to get a view of what they were in awe over. “What? What is it?”

The  _Djinn_  chuckled lowly and pointed to the reflective surface of the window. “You are clearly already marked,  _my lord_. And by something far more  _divine_  than  _I_.”

As he approached, he could see it clearly now. The mark Ozryel had placed upon him was still there. How was that possible? He was entirely  _reformed_. Whatever she had done to him, it was obviously permanent. She had burned into his very soul and it was actually lovely. A beautiful metallic silver embedded perfectly within the surface of his marblesque skin.

 

* * *

 

After much convincing, Gus relented and was  _branded_  without Quinlan needing to hold him down like a child. The braves were reluctant as they didn’t wish to become  _invisible_  to the gods, but Barqan assured them the mark  _could_  be removed in the future, if they wished it. Quinlan had doubts on that, but did not voice his concerns out loud. After each mark was burned, the delicate shape of the glyph was traced with Michael’s blood, which then healed the wound in its entirety, leaving a rose colored symbol, reminiscent of Dawn’s  _angel’s kiss_  birthmark.

“Oh Jesus Christ … This better not mean I get sent to  _hell_.” Dutch looked as if she might pass out during the later part of the glyphing, gagging as they wiped the blood into her wound. “I don’t think this is  _very sanitary_  at all.”

Barqan burned the pool the moment everyone was marked. Placing his hands into the pool’s edge, his eyes burned, his body smoked, and the blood caught on fire so intense it burned  _blue_. And it was done.

 _Good_. They needed to leave. This was taking far too long. Everyone shuffled out, but Barqan hesitated to leave …  _again_.

“Did I fail to make myself clear,  _Black King_?” Quinlan said as calmly as possible. “ _We are leaving now_.”

“Yes … it is just …” Barqan glanced back towards the hallway and sighed deeply. “There is something else we should not leave here.”

**[Game of Survival - Ruelle](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7jJTRLLwHQsHtBBYCCmqQR&t=MzQ5YWJiYWQxYWE2NmQxYjFlYzA3Y2VhYTg5OGJkYWU0ZjVmZDFmZSxEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1) **

 

> _Are we the hunters?_
> 
> _Or are we the prey?_
> 
> _This is a wild game of survival_
> 
> _This is a wild game of survival_

Quinlan waited as the Djinn disappeared into the bowels of the factory floor once again. He pulled the phone from his pocket to glance the time quickly in an effort to distract his mind from wandering to  _her_. This proved foolish, as that cracked screen only reinforced his worry and prompted his heart to ache again.

His fingers were tracing the shattered pattern when he  _heard_  the Djinn approaching, or rather, he  _felt_  him. No. That wasn’t quite right at all. It wasn’t the  _marid_  he  _felt_ , but something else. All of his senses were drastically enhanced since his return and there was something eerily recognizable about this  _sensation_. He watched the King approach slowly and he could now see it was coming from something the  _marid_  held. If Quinlan had hair, he was sure it would have all been standing at attention. Something …  _resonated with familiarity_. Recognition sank in as he stared at the item in the Black King’s grip.

Quinlan put the phone away, never tearing his eager eyes from the thing. It was clearly one of  _his_  custom-made leather harnesses and sheath, but most importantly, it was  _his sword_  nestled in it’s protective leather embrace. When the item was within reach, Barqan stopped and waited for the dhampir to take it from his offering hands.

“ _My … sword … ?_ ” Over the years, he had  _many_  bone swords. Ones made from those he lost. Ones who were enemies. Ones who were loved. The last time he had worn  _this one_ , the one he had fashioned from the femoral bone of the great warrior and friend Decimus, he had flown between skyscrapers with her in his arms. The impact had  _broken_  it at the start of the blade.

“Yes. It  _is_  your sword, but it is not the exact one you broke before. I have made it anew. I have made it … ” Barqan’s voice quivered slightly. “At her instruction …  _for you_.”

Quinlan stared down at the  _fully_  restored weapon. He began to reach for it, but the vibrations only grew stronger as he grew nearer. He remembered  _this_  feeling actually. _Oh gods …_  it felt like …  _no no. It was impossible._  Barqan shifted the harness and offered the handle to him directly. Quinlan’s hand hovered over the bone and when he finally grabbed it, he was certain of it now.

“It resonates like … ” He drew it from the sheath and as his eyes caught the first glimpse of the metal, he felt himself gasp suddenly. “ _The Celestial Blade_.”

“Ah, so you can feel it now, can you? You are more this time than you were before. And you are correct, in a way.” Barqan explained as Quinlan pulled it from its leather and examined the metal, touching it delicately with his finger tips. “It is forged from The Shard of Ozryel’s Blade. I told her I was unsure if I could split the power. In the end, while her staff required more of it, she is tiny and it was a full foot shorter than [Ruyi Jingu Bang](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FRuyi_Jingu_Bang&t=NjVkZjVmOWZiM2RmN2NjN2VhNGE0ODQ2ZTEzYzVlYmIwNjg3NzZiOSxEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1) had been. I had plenty left to use …” The Black King looked up on the weapon with pride. “I am pleased with the outcome. However, I did make some adjustments.”

The blade danced with several different colors and types of metals. They had been interwoven and danced through each other, but this was clearly not  _damascus steel_. It was more of a wood grain pattern. He had seen a similar metallurgy art before, in rural Japan. [Mokume-gane](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMokume-gane&t=MWQ1NGRiMTQ2YjQ2MDc0ZmI2OWIwZGQ2NmE2MTMwNDhhZmZjNWUxYSxEdzZBWUhUUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168245842498%2Fchapter-106-ouroboros&m=1).

It was longer by several inches than it had been before. There was a curved shape to the blade now, giving it a more katana-esque feel, but not so much that it would not fit in its custom sheath. It was  _just a hint_  of it. The very tip of it curved and came to a point that somewhat resembled a scimitar edge.

And it was  _much_  heavier than it was before. Quinlan would need to be careful with the changed dimensions. He had been accustomed to fighting with a  _very specific_  sword. A specific weight. A specific length. A specific shape. He tested the balance of the new blade and found it  _perfect_. Better than it had  _ever been before_. “It is …  _beautiful_.”

“With the power the blade now wields, I had to reinforce the handle to withstand  _power strikes_.”  _Power strikes_? This piqued Quinlan’s interest intensely and he listened as Barqan spoke. The Djinn explained as he watched the dhampir testing the weight. “Human bone is fairly fragile. I am surprised you have kept it in shape as well as you did.” Quinlan took great care of his weapons. “So, I added a tungsten rod through the center of the bone. It increases the weight dramatically, but I do not think that will be a problem  _for you_ , Prince.”

Quinlan’s eyes perused the surface of the blade again, squinting at all the metals interwoven through it and Barqan described further, his voice rich with conceit. “In addition to the shard, I used a mixture of titanium, chromium, steel, tungsten, and of course …  _your favorite … silver_. I added some copper for  _color_. Though I am certain I could have made it  _sharper_ , I believe it’s edge will suffice for use.”

“Will it not shatter then?” Those metals were problematic. Strong, yes, but ultimately unyielding. It might even  _bend_. He cringed. Given his extreme strength, he had accidentally  _bent_  several swords before. He had always had to pull his strength when using a blade due to this fact. His doubts were clear. It was  _beautiful_ , but was it even  _functional_? The dhampir stepped back and swung the blade.

“Shatter?” Barqan laughed out loud. Apparently the question was so ridiculous that the Djinn grabbed his stomach while he laughed. “History has  _never_  seen  _this blade_  break,  _My Lord_.” Barqan laughed out loud.

“History?” The dhampir questioned. “You  _just_  made this.”

“Prince of Snakes, do you not understand what you hold in your hands?” The marid clapped a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, Quinlan forgot his anger towards the man as he stared at the weapon with completely attention. “ _You hold a weapon reforged from the blade of Excalibur itself_.”

_Ouroboros._

_“Excalibur?”_ This name caught the dhampir’s attention fully, and Quinlan’s eyes met the Djinn’s with disbelieving awe. As Raphael had learned, it was nearly impossible to impress the dhampir, but in this instant, he was speechless. Barqan smiled, flashing his brilliantly white teeth. “But that is only a my–” He caught himself before the word fully escaped.

_There are no myths. Only truths._

“I believe she intended it as a  _gift_  for  _your return_.” Barqan confessed to him.

These words made him  _ache_. Throughout his long life, he had been gifted  _many_  great and impressive things. His strength and wealth had afforded him anything he could possibly desire, but  _this … this_  was  _one_  of the most beautiful objects he had ever laid eyes on.  _Reforged_  from  _myth_  itself … and she had commissioned it …  _for him_.

“She was so certain she would bring you back.” Barqan’s head hung low. “I thought her …  _foolish_. And yet …  _here you stand_  …”

“Why would she just …” Quinlan  _ached_  even more. “… Leave this here?”

“She was  _not_  of her right mind last I saw her. When she left here, she was … ” Barqan exhaled. “ _Lost_.”

Quinlan shook off the worry as best he could. “Is it  _just_  unbreakable? Or does it possess  _the celestial_  powers of its origin?”

“You mean … “ Barqan swallowed. “ _Can it rend souls from existence_? Excalibur  _could_ , but in splitting it … I am  _uncertain_.” It seemed the question brought discomfort to the  _Djinn_.

“You were also  _uncertain_  you wished to disclose its existence to me.” Quinlan accused the  _marid_ , remembering his demeanour before retrieving it. “Did you worry I might use it on you,  _Black King_?” Quinlan grinned madly. “Was that the origin of your hesitation?”

“Do you blame me?” Barqan asked.  _Hmmm_. He supposed not. It was actually a  _fair_ concern, given the beating Quinlan had just given him. “However, if you  _do_  wish to  _test_ it out …” The Djinn’s eyes diverted to the strigoi who stood calmly near the door.

Quinlan had been too enamoured with the gift to notice the entry of Dutch, Fet,  _and_ Thomas. Clearly they had been watching for some time. He eyed Thomas suspiciously, mulling over Barqan’s …  _suggestion_.

“ ** _I will be in the car._** ” Thomas made no hesitation in responding before quickly fleeing the room and Quinlan grinned devilishly at the Nazi’s discomfort. No, he would  _not_  risk the blade sending the  _lap dog_  down south … Well, at least, not  _for now_.

“Thank you for this, Barqan.” Quinlan returned his attention to the weapon. His appreciation was quite genuine. “However, do not assume that this makes us even.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t  _dream_  of it, Dark Prince!” The Djinn slapped him on the back as he chortled, finally exiting the room and Quinlan was left with just Fet and Dutch.

“So uh …  ** _Excalibur_** , huh?” Fet ogled the sword; his eyes were wide with childlike envy. He pointed at it as Quinlan pushed the blade back into the leather sheath. “Can I …  _uh_  … can I hold it?”

“I do not think that is–”

“Ahhh … just for a  _second_.” The big man flashed a smile, his dimples quite pronounced. “Come on! I swear I’ll give it back …”

Quinlan considered saying no again, staring at the man suspiciously for a moment, but he relinquished it to Fet. If anything, it would allow him time to put his harness on. “Try not to  _rend any souls from existence_ , Vasily.”

“I won’t. I promise."  Fet rubbed his hands together.

"Dear lord …” Dutch rolled her eyes dramatically as she turned to leave the room. “What in the world is it with  _men_  and their obsession with  _swords_?”

 

* * *

 

Barbara stared at the map on the table and pointed. “Send another patrol along the cliff side here. They’ll have a good vantage point. Make sure one of the  _hawks_  goes with them.” She scrutinized the area again and pointed to the other side, adjacent to the lake. “Send another search party here–” The ground rattled, shaking the tent and table with it.

If it hadn’t been for the shouting outside, she might have finished dishing out the orders before she went outside to assess the situation. They didn’t get  _earthquakes_ around there and there was  _a lot of shouting_.

As she and her men exited. They followed the sounds of the cries, she found a mob of people gathered around an area. People whispered and chatted amongst themselves. She couldn’t make out anything intelligible as she forced her way through the group and into the center. Breaking into the open area at the center, she took a  _big step_ backwards as she gasped at what she saw.

Two winged men. One clad in silver armour wielding a  _very large_  broadsword and the other in gold. The silver one knelt at the ground next to the golden one. All eyes were on Barbara and when the silver one turned to face her, she realized it wasn’t a man at all. Able to now see  _both_  of their faces, Barbara recognized Hinon at once, but the other  _thunder_  she had  _never_  seen before.

There was a conspicuous impact crater around them and this was clearly the origin of the quake that shook the camp. The white-skinned, white-haired  _female_  thunder helped Hinon to his feet and he motioned towards Barbara.

As she approached the clan mother, Barbara recognized the stripes that danced across her face. She had seen this color of skin and  _those marks_  before …  _on the dhampir_  that came into this camp a year ago. “ _Oh shit_.” She mumbled as the lanky creature smiled madly, shoving a hand out for her to shake. The clan mother reluctantly accepted the hand and the  _thunder_  shook it so vigorously hard, Barbara wondered if her arm might come out of its socket.

“Greetings, Deer Clan Mother Barbara!” She beamed, flashing her white and fanged teeth to the woman with crazy zeal as she  _continued_  to shake her hand wildly. Hinon held his forehead in embarrassment.

## “I am Ozryel.  _The Angel of Death_. It's very nice to meet you!”


	85. Interlude 10 - Not with a bang …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Note from Author** : This chapter is shorter than most, but that definitely didn’t make it easier to write. Quite the contrary, in fact. There is a bit of repetition. Words repeat, as do themes and thoughts and feelings. Even the formatting might flow a bit strangely. This was all very much on purpose and for the emotional effect. Regardless of possible labels of beige vs. purple, it was written to be more **_poetry_** than **_prose_**.
> 
> While I might not be capable of drawing something worthy of admiration and praise, I can provide artistry in the form of sentences and words. Therefore, allow me this fleeting but powerful moment to dedicate this next chapter to the lovely and uniquely interesting character of Mr. Quinlan.
> 
> **_Now, please prepare yourself for incredible angst …_**
> 
>   
>    
> 

He tucked the letter safely into the pocket of his coat and creeped towards his sleeping woman on the couch. Everything around them was now quiet. The wind, and subsequently, the storm had passed and the sun, having finally revealed itself through the clouds, was quickly retreating beneath the edge of the horizon.

Not even the fire was audible as all that remained of it began a sad dance of dissolution.

He wouldn’t bother tending to it further. Only one tiny flame remained and it had only minutes left in its existence, thus marking the completion of their time here. It was  _already_  over. The day was done and Quinlan paused at the thought of it. It all streaked by so  _agonizingly_  fast.

It had been  _fleeting_  but  _powerful_. It had been  _brief_  but  _intense_. Like the blink of an eye, it was over. The intimacy of this day had been the most potent he had ever experienced. So, was it  _sad_  or was it  _fitting_  that this should happen to him at the very  _end of his long life_? Ultimately, he decided he was grateful. There was no longer  _any doubt_  that he had been able to  _truly_  live a full life while he had been here.

She had given him something he hadn’t even realized he was lacking. She had given him something he hadn’t realized he was utterly  _starved_  for.

 _Unconditional acceptance_. In all of his failing, in all of his monstrosities, both physical and spiritual …

**[Low Life - X Ambassadors](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3E1BbOMqKUlN4VyXZKlEkk&t=ZTEwODdiMTgzM2Y5MGNhMmYwMTExOGRlNzliMWZjMzlkODgxNDk1MSxKOVpLRUZTVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168481167948%2Finterlude-10-not-with-a-bang&m=1) **

> _I’m nothing but a low life_
> 
> _Thinking about my own life_
> 
> _I’m trying to fight the good own fight_
> 
> _But after it all, I’m still just a low life_
> 
> _Wanna be a better man, but it’s a hard life_
> 
> _Without that love inside you, it’s a cown bind_
> 
> _But, I started to reflect on all that’s been before_
> 
> _Started to wonder, but, but you can’t be sure_
> 
> _Now please tell me I’m broke_
> 
> _It’s much easier that way, ‘cause I just let you down_
> 
> _It’s much easier that way_

He had promised he would not let her fall asleep. A blatant lie as he purposefully stole away some of their last moments together to write  _the letter_ , and now he felt guilty of it as he found himself unable to wake her. He could only watch her sleep, his heart full of sadness and grief, as her chest heaved up and down.

He wavered on what to do next.  _Should he wake her and tell her goodbye_  or was watching her sleep in their last moments selfish? Was he stealing this time only for himself? No. He reminded himself of  _gratitude_. He had not been afforded a proper  _farewell_  to Tasa or Sura.  _This was a blessing_. He looked upon her thin lips, her spotted cheeks, and her inviting skin and he wondered if this was true. Was it  _actually_  a privilege or was this more torture?

When he did wake her, would he tell her of the things he had been keeping from her? Would he tell her the secrets of  _The Lumen, The Unfallen Born, The White and what it had done to Her Angel’s Kiss_? Would he tell her what she was and that it was  _his fault_? _His decision to make her this way_? That by saving her, he had changed  _her forever_ , and in the process, put her in danger that he would be unavailable to protect her from?

Would he disclose everything he knew or would he allow her to live as he had  _thought_ he had always wanted for himself?  _As a human_? Did she not deserve to have … a  ** _normal life_**?

 _And most importantly, should he tell her that … that …_   

Quinlan swallowed hard and stared down at his hands, nervously rubbing his palms together. Should he tell her why he  _needed_  to die? That it had nothing to do with  _his own destiny_ , nor for  _the destruction of the Master_? Not even for  _the salvation of mankind_  for he would allow every soul on this wretched world to burn if it meant only that he could  _stay_.

 _No. He wondered if he should he tell her that he needed to die … so that_   ** _she_**   _could live_?

 ** _No_**.  _Absolutely not_. He had dealt with  _that_  specific pain so many times in his  _long life_ and he could at least protect her from  _that_. It was far better that she loathe  _him_ , rather than  _herself_.

So many considerations rushed across his mind that he tore his eyes from her to regain his composure as his brows furrowed and he forced down his bubbling emotions.

_It’s time, Quintus. It’s time._

“Why do you look at me like that?” She asked, her voice soft and soothing, but it startled him nonetheless. Letting her sleep was obviously no longer an option and he was glad she had awoken on her own.

**[Kerosene Dreams - X Ambassadors](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1NJAy0SC6DVc7yroWbN1Fs&t=ZTdmM2Y1YTNkZDAyODQ2MDlmNDIxNzY4YmFlNmVlZDZhZTQ4NDE5NSxKOVpLRUZTVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168481167948%2Finterlude-10-not-with-a-bang&m=1) **

> _Broken bottles on the floor_
> 
> _Broken promises and more_
> 
> _People come and people go_
> 
> _Just sit back and enjoy the show_
> 
> _Through the darkest of days_
> 
> _Through the smoke and the haze_
> 
> _Come on light it up, light it up_
> 
> _Cause we gonna burn bright_
> 
> _My friends, when the darkest days ahead_
> 
> _  
> _

He slid down onto the couch, sitting beside her as he brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Look at you like what?”  

“Like you are …” Her hand touched his knee and she paused. “ _Starving_.”

Should he bother to respond? The answer was obvious, was it not? It was because he was starving. He had been  _hungering_  for  _her_  for  _so long_. He watched her hand on his leg and he ran his finger tips over her spotted fingers.

“[Manibus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2Fhand&t=M2MyMGM2NzM5YTIyZDI0YjZkNmRhZDJkODgzNzFmNTZiMzNiZWUwYyxKOVpLRUZTVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168481167948%2Finterlude-10-not-with-a-bang&m=1).” He said.

“Many-bus.” She tried. He adored her attempt and found her accent was better than it was the first time, but it was still atrocious nonetheless. Oh gods, he  _adored_  it.

_He deserves to have this ripped away …_

“Hand.” He defined before tapping farther up on her forearm. “ ** _Brachium_**.” He waited for her to repeat it. 

 _He deserves this_   ** _punishment_**  …

“ ** _Brachium_**.” It was perfect.  _She was perfect_. This was  _perfect_. She watched him with quiet eyes and then  _she_  defined it. “Arm.” 

_For he had done such terrible, unforgivable things …_

He touched her shoulder next and she beat him to the word as she touched  _his shoulder_. “ ** _Scapula_**.” Each new part of his body that she brushed her fingers across, she pulled the word from her memory of that dream,  _their shared dream_ , when he had taught her these words. Everything about this situation intoxicated him and he allowed her to her speak, hungry to hear the Latin clumsily,  _yet marvelously_ , roll off of her American tongue. 

 _He was not a_   ** _man_**.

“ ** _Pilorum_**  …” She smiled as she stared at his bare head and then touched the delicate lashes on his eyes. The only part of his body that has  **ever**  had  _hair_. 

_A beast … that should be caged._

“ ** _Audite_**  …” She ran her finger tip up and along the outer edge of his  _ear_ , ending at it’s inhuman point. 

_A savage … ruthless and brutal … like none other._

“ ** _Maxilla_**  …” She began on the left side of his  _jaw_ , following its path horizontally across his face with her touch and ending on the right. 

_A freak … to be put on display and gawked._

“ ** _Nares_**  …” She touched the tip of his  _nose_  and let her fingers trail down to his … 

_He was unworthy of such beauty._

“ ** _Ostium_**  …” Mouth. 

_He was unfit for this kind of love._

“ ** _Labiis_**  …” She traced his lower  _lip_ , watching it as she licked her own. 

 _He did not deserve_   ** _her_**.

“ ** _Oscula_**  …” She leaned forward and placed the most delicate of  _kisses_  on him. 

_He had done such terrible, unforgivable things …_

“ ** _Lingua_**  …” As their lips touched again, he opened his mouth and allowed her entry to brush her  _tongue_  against his. 

 _He was not a man. He was a_   ** _monster_**   _and he would_   ** _always_**   _be._

This was the end of the lesson he had given but she touched his face, running her fingers along the massive scar across his left cheek and she smiled, her eyes warm with wonder and acceptance. “ ** _Auriolus_**.”

##  _Beautiful_.

He had not taught her this one, but he knew he thought it so often when he looked upon her. How she might have stolen it from his mind mattered not and he purred a single word back to her. “ ** _Amare_**.”  

Crushing her frame against his, the strength of his embrace forced the air from her lungs and she gasped. As he pulled back to see her face clearly, he began to hum words, which escaped his mouth with a deep and vibrating rattle of his stinger. Her eyes grew wide with delight as she realized his words were  _poetry_.

“Soles occidere et redire possunt:”  

> **_Suns may set, and suns may rise again:_ **

“Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,”  

> **_but when our brief light has set,_ **

“Nox est perpetua una dormienda.”  

> **_night is one long everlasting sleep._ **

“Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,”  

> **_Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,_ **

“Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,”  

> **_then another thousand, and then another hundred,_ **

“Deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.”  

> **_and, when we’ve counted up the many thousands,_ **

“Dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, Conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,”  

> **_let us confuse them so as not to know them all,_ **

“Aut ne quis malus invidere possit,”  

> **_so that no enemy may cast an evil eye,_ **

“Cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.”  

> **_when he finds out that there were so many kisses._ **

As the recitation came to completion, he waited eagerly for her critique of it. He had not remembered the poem in its entirety, but he was quite impressed with what he did recall. Did she enjoy it? At least as much as he enjoyed similarly from her?

“What is it?” She inquired.

“[A very old poem](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCatullus_5&t=NWQwYzk1MzY0ZTA4YzFiZmQ1ZDA0MWIzOWIwYWU0ODllZWI3N2E3YSxKOVpLRUZTVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168481167948%2Finterlude-10-not-with-a-bang&m=1).” He was nervous to ask what she thought of it as she was giving nothing away in her expression. “Did you  _like_  it?”

Nodding, a smile finally leaked out and he  _adored_  it. “Yours?” She asked.

“No. It is older than even I.” He chuckled out loud and his laugh hinted at the absurdity of her question as he touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. His? Was she serious? He was  _not_  capable of constructing such …  _beauty_ , though he adored that she even though it possible of  _him_. He was  _not_  a creator. He was a  _destroyer_.  _Oh gods._ She deserved better than him. “It is by the Poet Catullus, a Roman.”

“Oh …  _heh_  … waitaminute, I think I’ve heard of  _him_.” She was embarrassed at her ill-perceived ignorance. Anything she had possibly read by him was likely  _not_  in Latin at the time. “What does it mean?”

“It means …” Should he provide a long or brief explanation? Did she wish a translation of each word, of each sentence or just an overview of its concept or … He hesitated to answer, glancing towards the window and seeing the darkening hues of the sunset. He had told himself they would leave when the sun had descended past the horizon and it had done so minutes ago.

She didn’t have to follow his gaze to know what he was seeing and her head hung. Her teeth tenderly bite into her quivering lip, as she waited for his answer with  _hope_. He watched this action and envied her lips for he  _needed_  to taste that mouth again. Even though he had done so countless times today, he  _needed_  it again.

As Catullus had instructed, was it a thousand times at least? Had he kissed her enough? Were  _any_  amount of kisses  _enough_? The hours had rolled into minutes and now it was left to  _seconds_. Would he have time to kiss her  _a hundred_  more.

“What does the poem mean, Quintus?” She asked again, hoping to delay longer and he allowed it.

“It means … to  _never_  shy away from  _love_.” He watched the hope melt from her face. “No matter the  _cost_  of it …” He watched her pain. He shared it. “No matter the  _consequence_  from it …” He watched his words wound. “ _Love_ , unabashedly, without remorse or regret … because  _life is far too brief not to_.”

“Even …” Her body trembled. “ _… even for the immortal …_ ”

Quintus Sertorius was, and always had been,  _a monster_. He had done  _such terrible, unforgivable things_  his entire life, but none had made him feel worse than he did in this agonizing instant as he heard the sorrow tremble in her voice the moment before she crumpled across his chest, succumbing to the violent tears she had been so strong to withhold for the entirety of the day.

**[John Legend - Love Me Now (Live)](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2pPRgFEENF3LtuxYUPuT24&t=NGU0YmQ3N2YzOTExZjgwZjA4MWZhNDM3ZDBiYjAwMmZmOTI0NjIzMCxKOVpLRUZTVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168481167948%2Finterlude-10-not-with-a-bang&m=1) **

> **_I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone_ **
> 
> **_So I’m gonna love you now, like it’s all I have_ **
> 
> **_I know it’ll kill me when it’s over_ **
> 
> **_I don’t wanna think about it, I want you to love me now_ **

All that was left of the lingering fire took its final gasping breath and he heard the flame dissipate into the air, ending and being unmade. It was time to go. He urged himself. They shouldn’t delay further. It was dangerous to delay … 

> _And yet …_

Even as her lips, wet and salty from the tears still streaming down her face, pressed against his welcoming mouth, he didn’t push her away. 

> _He wouldn’t …_

Even as she straddled his body and he gripped her thighs, urging her to rub against him, he wouldn’t push her away. 

> _He couldn’t …_

And  _especially_  as her movements ignited his passion and he eased her back down onto the uncomfortable rug to love her one final time, in the same place where he had first taken her, he couldn’t push her away. 

> _All semblance of control was lost …_

And just as he was born a slave, thus he become one again, though this time, fully willing. He was a slave to  _his heart_  and a slave to  _her desire_ , just as she was to him …

##  ****_Ouroboros._ ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And an extra treat for the sad chapter.
> 
> ## An incredible commission of Mr. Quinlan by [bristlefurr@tumblr](http://bristlefurr.tumblr.com)
> 
>   
> 


	86. 11.1 - Sacrifice

> ######  [ _ Creep - Kina Grannis _ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7BRwh1bemr9rFMDeTbcy5S)
> 
> _ Just like an angel _
> 
> _ Your skin makes me cry _
> 
> _ You float like a feather _
> 
> _ In a beautiful world _
> 
> _ I wish I was special _
> 
> _ You're so very special _
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _ But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo _
> 
> _ What the hell am I doing here? _
> 
> _ I don't belong here _
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _ I don't care if it hurts _
> 
> _ I want to have control _
> 
> _ I want a perfect body _
> 
> _ I want a perfect soul _
> 
> _ And I want you to notice _
> 
> _ When I'm not around _
> 
> _ You're so very special _
> 
> _ I wish I was special _
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _ But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo _
> 
> _ What the hell am I doing here? _
> 
> _ I don't belong here _
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _ Oh, she's running out again _
> 
> _ Oh, she's running out again _
> 
>   
> 
> 
> _ Whatever makes you happy _
> 
> _ Whatever you want _
> 
> _ You're so very special _
> 
> _ I wish I was special _

  


The woman sighed as she looked upon the massive blank page before her. She glared at the paints that she had painstakingly organized on the table to her right while she was procrastinating. She picked up one of the brushes, still never used, and she squinted at it, testing its perky tip with her curious finger before setting it back down on the table. She tapped her right index finger on the hardback book next to the brushes and considered looking through it again. She read the title again and again: “Oil Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium.”   


_Mastering? Hmmmm._  She had always wanted to learn how to paint. There was no doubt she could learn to master it. She had been able to master  _anything_  she wanted, given enough effort, but …  _was she really this bored_? Nah, it wasn’t boredom to want to learn a creative art, was it? No, it wasn’t boredom at all. She was restless. Relentlessly restless.

She left the table and walked to the expansive windows of the condo and stared out across the bustling and lively city of New York below her. Opening the door to her private balcony, she stepped out into the warm summer air and closed her eyes as the sun beat against her perfect, blemish-free complexion. As she took a deep breath in of the exhaust-filled air, the tiniest of breezes dislodged several of her dark amber hairs from the french braid upon her head and tickled her face as it danced across her flawless skin.  _Never looking down_ , she stared out directly at the twin building on the other side of the street and she ran her hand along the “X” that was etched into the railing.

It had been there ever since she moved in … at least that’s what she recalled. The realtor had explained away the mark as the result of the previous owners’  _children_ , but as her finger tips prodded the grooves etched deep into the metal, she knew better than that. Didn’t she?   


As always, when her mind wandered over the inconsistencies of the present, something would rock her back to the reality of  _this_  world. Her phone vibrated in her pocket as it received yet another text message. The wind gusted again and she pulled her light jacket around her, crossing her arms over her chest giving one last look at the skyline before returning to the safety of the indoors.

She considered not responding yet as she stared at the phone screen, but what the hell else was she going to do? Paint?  _Hmmm. Hmmmmm._

 _3 Unread Messages_. Each one at least five minutes apart. He obviously struggled with each message sent. She had  _never_  had a man give so much thought or concern with how they would interact with her. It was  _almost_  nice, if it didn’t feel so  _off_. She read them in order.

  1. _Missed you at class Monday night. Tsk tsk._
  2. _Anyways, hope to see you tonight._
  3. _xxx -Ron_



She bit back the giggle that nearly escaped. Who  _signs_  their text messages with their names anyways? She would need to teach him a bit more about technology, she supposed. He was very sweet though. Very successful. Very smart. Very … hot.  _Ok yeah, too hot. Waaaay too hot._  It actually made her uncomfortable. It all made her feel …  _wrong_. This wasn’t the type of man who would like  _her_ , but as she walked towards the bedroom, bypassing the responsibility of the blank canvas, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the TV and accepted she was  _remarkably_  attractive  _by every standard that counted. Lovely even_.

Just lovely or was she actually beautiful? No, not just that, she was nearly  _perfect_. Yes, she was. She deserved this, didn’t she? She did. She assured herself and focused her attention back on the phone.    


> _Will be there. Thanks for the reminder. xxx_

She typed in the quick response to assure her new sensei she would  _indeed_  be at class tonight … maybe? Likely? She had see. She hadn’t meant to miss the last class, but she had drunk a bit too much again.

 _Hmmm_. There was a thought. Drink? She stared at the filled wine rack across the open condo and then looked at the time.  _2 pm_. Well, it  _is_  after noon, so … Class wasn’t until 6 pm. Maybe just one glass? Eh, why the  _fuck_  not? Maybe it would help her get started on …  _painting_. She had  _always_  wanted to learn how to paint, right?

Sure …  _why the hell not_?

There wasn’t anything else to do, besides …  _her head was killing her … again_.

 

* * *

 

**[Destiny Awakens - Missing in Action](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4YPX3BxWkzjTsX53VAjxs4&t=NmU2YjVmZjYzNDUxNDIzODc1NWU1ZTE5OGYwMjZiZDZmODRiYmFkNSxIUG5memIyVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168730897068%2Fchapter-111-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Sir!?” The Bene Elohim screamed up at the Right Hand of God over the sound of the debris hitting the cobblestone paths. “Where have you been?!?”

Uriel landed softly onto the road and tucked his Elohim wings tightly against his back before turning to face his captain. “What’s going on?” He screamed back as a flash of lightning sparked across the entirety of the sky and he looked up. At first he attempted to shield his eyes from its insane brightness with his hand, but Uriel had to close his eyes from the pain of it. The electricity arched, the brilliant white slowly faded and he could see two discernable colors left before it faded out entirely.  _Purple and amber_.

The sound that erupted from the show of power was less like thunder and more like an explosion. Its volume caused Uriel, and all the watchers present, to cover their ears in a vain attempt drowned out the noise, but Uriel squinted at the pain regardless, fighting the urge to double over from it.

Then the clouds above parted as a tiny object broke through, torpedoing across the sky before slamming with impressive force against the southernmost spiral of the citadel. The brick of the tower disintegrated from the hit and the structure crumbled. The object continued its trajectory down onto the ground below, cratering it as it struck.   


Uriel squinted and watched. He considered flying over until he saw  _Gabriel_  crawl out of the hole. The Hayyoth looked up into the sky as it began to glow brighter and brighter in violet intensity and there was a wicked grin on his face before the angel dove to the right with incredible speed as a marvelously thick lightning bolt barreled down from the sky directly above him, striking the ground where he  _had been_  standing.

“ _What in the heaven …_ ” Uriel whispered as The  _Messenger_  was airbore again. He followed the angel’s flash of flight back up into the clouds just as another figure broke through the same cloud from which Gabriel had first plummeted. Uriel squinted again and his mouth fell agape.

“Sir … is that …” The captain’s questions trailed off as it was obvious who it was.  _The Traveller and the Messenger were …_   ** _fighting_**?

The clouds filled with a flurry of purple light as Gabriel came into contact with his little brother. Another explosion rang and both figures hurled back out of sight, through the clouds, clasped together as they disappeared into the sky.

“What do we do?!” The desperation in the captain’s voice was clear and Uriel was at a loss.

He reached out with his mind, but the Nexus was still cut off. First Michael, then Ozryel, and now …

Shaking his head, he never ripped his eyes from the sky as he address his men. “Stay out of their way?” Was that a question? Should it be an order? What the hell was going on?! The pair appeared again, still entangled together as they shot down into the heart of the citadel and buildings collapsed all around them. “Evacuate the citadel. Move everyone to the outskirts …”

“Stay out of their way, Sir?” The captain doubted the first statement. “But, shouldn’t we  _help_  them?”

“Uh …” Uriel looked at the man with utter confusion. “ _And which_   ** _one_**   _would you suggest we help?_ ”

 

* * *

 

“Shotgun!” Dutch belted as everyone exited the factory  _again_. Quinlan was hopeful this would be the last time. “ _I call shotgun!_ ” She screamed out again, to ensure everyone heard her loud and clear. As she made her way toward the front seat of the car, Quinlan was already there, opening the door and her nostrils flared at him. “No way dude, I said  _shotgun_  first. Them’s the rules.”

“Even if I knew what that meant …” It was clear Quinlan knew exactly what her intent was and he grinned as he pulled the door open for himself. “I’ll be riding in front.”

“That is totally  _not fair_.” Her look of disappointment was quite satisfying but Barqan approached and Quinlan shifted his attention.

“I think this is a good time for us to part ways,  _Prince of Snakes_.” Barqan stepped forward and offered a hand to him. “As always, it has been a pleasure. Perhaps the next time we meet, it will be with less …  _violence_.”

The dhampir looked down at the palm and ignored it, only smiling in return. “You are coming with us,  _Black King_. I apologize if that was …  _unclear_.”

“Prince … “ Barqan laughed off the  _order_. Quinlan thought he might try to exert some dominance eventually, but he hadn’t expected it  _so soon_. He found it quite brazen of the  _Djinn_. “Our charge .. “ He waved at the the braves. Wait, was his intention to also take Quinlan’s animal soldiers? Hmmm. “… is to protect the  _gate_ , and I don’t see–”

“Your  _gate_  is contained  _in_  the world, yes?” Quinlan interjected. Barqan squinted at the dhampir, waiting for his logic to make sense. “Therefore, I would think that protecting  _the world_  includes your  _precious_  gate, does it not?”

“Of course, but if you  _fail_ , we will require more help than the  _Onondaga_  or my brethren  _can provide_. The gate must remain open for the Army of Heaven to be able to march–”

“Correct me if I am wrong, but it is my understanding that the  _entire_  Army of Heaven was unable to do much against the Rainbow Child during his  _first_  assault. Is that not true?” Barqan’s silence answered his question. “However, speaking of  _your hidden brethren_ , we will likely require their help. It was suggested to me to find …” Quinlan closed his eyes and pawed through his muddy memories of the moments before Raphael sent him back to be reborn. The pain had clouded much. “ _Raum, the Merciful_?”

“That … will not be possible, I am afraid.” Barqan’s eyes fell to the ground and he shook his head solemnly. His voice rumbled with grief. “Before she took me, I was informed of his passing.”

“He is …  _dead_?” Quinlan questioned. “Are you certain? I was told by a  _trusted source_ that he was–”

“Oh yes. He is  _very_  dead. I beared witness to his end.” Thomas chimed in and both men stared at the strigoi with horrified curiosity. How would …  _he know? Unless …_

“You were there?” Quinlan asked.  _Damnation_. “Was it Dawn?”

“It was the Morning Star.” Thomas corrected, but explained further. “She was  _not_  in control at the time.”

“I was told they retrieved only  _two bodies_  from the rubble of my brother’s house in Rome.” Barqan explained. “It was my brother,  _The White King_ ,  ** _and_**  …  _Raum_. After the news broke.” This pained Barqan greatly. “I was on my way back to the camp when … she came for me next. But there are  _hundreds_  of souls unaccounted for. No bodies, no–”

“It was …” Thomas swallowed. “It was a massacre …  _unlike anything I have ever seen_. And … I have seen  _many terrible things_.”

 _Damnation_. How bad had it gotten? Quinlan remembered the blood in the cabin and his desire to get moving was now stronger than ever. No further delays. “Into the car,  _Black King_. This is not up for  _any_  discussion.” Quinlan’s  _need_  to find her burned even brighter and as his emotional state flared, a flicker of purple electricity danced across his cold gray eyes.

Fet picked up on the display immediately. “Uh … Dat’s new …”

_Indeed._

“You said you crossed over with … Divine Aid?” Barqan tilted his head to the right, peering with concern into the dhampir’s face. “I thought you said  _Ozryel_  helped you escape from Heaven. What are you keeping from us?”

Quinlan ignored the inquiry completely and pointed to the car. “I hate to repeat myself. Ride in the backseat or the boot. I leave the choice to you,  _Great Fire_.  _Little Bear_ , we will take the lead. Follow closely.” Quinlan called out orders in rapid fire. “Mr. Jacks, I apologize, it is quite cold, but would you mind remaining in the open to keep an eye out?” The hawk-man nodded without hesitation and leapt back into the bed of George’s truck. “ _You …_  with us.” He pointed to Thomas, not even affording him a name. “It will be a long ride and I have  _many questions_. Gus–”

“I’m with the braves.” The Boxer interrupted Quinlan, offering the same solution that Quinlan was about to give him and  _still_  not looking into his face. The attitude continued to concern the dhampir, but there was no time for it now. As Dutch started to march back towards the truck with Gus, Quinlan called out to her. “Mrs. Fet. You are with us.”

She turned and eyed Barqan, who was now smiling at the proposal and then she glared at Thomas who was already opening the passenger door. “Uhhh … That’s alright, love. I can ride with–”

“Mrs. Fet.” Quinlan repeated, pointing to the truck. “There is no room in that vehicle and … I wish to be apprised of your  _geolocations_  real time. Please.”

“Fine. Whatever. I ain’t ridin’ in the middle between those two though.” She pouted and Barqan frowned. Quinlan didn’t fault her for  _not_  wanting to ride in the backseat with the two non-humans, but this was the situation they were in.

“See! Told ya we shoulda got da van!” Fet shot her a dimpled grin over the roof of the car. This comment implied there had been some  _discussion_  of their rental car choice and Dutch had likely won the argument.

“Bloody hell … are you still  _on_  about that?!? There were only three of us! What the hell would we need an  _entire van for_?” She complained. “And there were  _only_  gonna be four.”

“Ya!” Fet laughed. “And now der’s eight!” He pulled the driver’s side open and slid in, shaking his head as he sat. “ _Always be prepared, yeah? Always_  go for da van. From now on …”

 _Children_.

_They were all still children_

_… and he had missed them dearly_.

 

* * *

 

**[Ghostblade - MythFox](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2JEb07hqvVlNxmCWr8AXPx&t=YTI1OThlOThjZDdmMmYyYjBiNWZjN2MwY2RlM2IyZTAyNTEzNTRlMCxIUG5memIyVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168730897068%2Fchapter-111-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Sir?” The private stood straight as a board at the door, rapping on the frame gently to get the busy man’s attention.

Swiveling his office chair around, he met the soldier’s gaze and nodded, waving him in. “Did we get anything?”

“Yes, sir.” The army-fatigued man handed a few printed pages to the senior agent and began to give a report as Smith looked over the maps. “Preliminary imagery from the location of the latest  _spike_  shows two vehicles. Both of which are now northbound. It looks like they are heading out of the contamination area.”

“Any idea where?” He flicked to the next page, which was a top down view of a factory and two tiny vehicles parked at it. As he flicked to the  _next_  page, the satellite imagery was shown zoomed even further on the same scene and a number of figures stood around the vehicles.

“Possibly Philadelphia, sir? There’s not much up else that way.”

As the agent turned to the final page, he cringed. One of the figures looked ominously familiar to him. Even their best satellite imagery couldn’t make out strong details, but one of them was  _definitely_  slender, feminine, and  _blonde_. “ _Velders_.” He glanced over at her confiscated laptop sitting on the bookshelf of his office. The words: “ _Anarchy Forever_ ” etched into the cover of it. He had been waiting for this. He had been waiting for  _her_  to resurface. It was only a matter of time. “Just couldn’t stay away, could you?” He spoke down to the images and then turned his attention back to the waiting soldier. “Are we still tracking them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ready the chopper. I wanna be there for this.”

“Shouldn’t you stay here, sir? Until–”

“If  _she’s_  resurfaced, then it can’t be a good sign for  _any of us_.” He stood and grabbed his jacket from the chair, swinging it onto his back.

The soldier swallowed deeply and shuffled with nervous gestures as he spoke next. “Sir, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Preliminary autopsy reports from the bodies found at the location of the  _first spike_ came back.”

“And?” Smith pushed.

“All four bodies were completely drained, with obvious signs of a  _strigoi_  attack. The location of the wounds and  _saliva_  are consistent. We’re still waiting for DNA to confirm, but …”

“Ok?” The agent shrugged. Even with access to  _Velder’s_  strigoi tracking code, the infestation across the globe was proving to be difficult to eradicate. “And?”

“But … there were zero signs of the pathogen in their systems, sir. None at all and there were never any signs of transformation or  _reanimation_  or–”

“ _Are you shitting me, private?_ ” Smith laughed out loud and the soldier looked at him with confusion. “You’re  _fucking_  with me, right?”

“No, sir.” The man looked confused. “Does that mean something? We’ve never seen–”

“Yes. Yes  _we_  have, soldier.” Smith explained, slapping a hand on the man’s back. “At Fort Detrick, before it fell.” He looked back at the figures on the blurry satellite photo and he tapped on the one that looked like it was hooded. “Oh boy, this day just keeps getting  _better and better_.”

“Sir?”

“Have them run the DNA found against Subject Echo Tango and then ready a full team. I want  _everything_  we have in  _Philadelphia_  immediately. Snipers, drones, even call in the locals …  _everything_. Understood?”

“Just for …  _two vehicles_ , sir?”

“Did I stutter, private?”

“No, sir.”

 

* * *

 

**[Slow Hands - Niall Horan](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F27vTihlWXiz9f9lJM3XGVU&t=OGM1ODk1Mzg5MjFlMjRiOTc4NzI4YmVkODk2NDUxZmFiODVmNjQ5OSxIUG5memIyVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168730897068%2Fchapter-111-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _No, no chance_
> 
> _That I’m leaving here without you on me_
> 
> _I, I know_
> 
> _Yeah, I already know that there ain’t no stoppin’_
> 
> _Your plans_

The private terminal was nearly empty; only a few people were scattered about, meandering while they waited patiently  _and_  impatiently for their flights. At least Philadelphia still had  _some_  life left in it and apparently plenty of money. He walked into the warm building and quickly scanned the minds of all those present.

 _That one right there_. An older gentlemen. A shrewd businessman. He was the richest man present and his plane was being fueled for Bangladesh. This man liked women quite a bit. EL peeled back his memories and ran through scenarios to try. EL really didn’t want to have to fly himself. The task was obviously beneath him. There were much better things to do with his time, weren’t there?

He approached without giving much thought to the condition of  _her_  appearance, nor to the strangeness of the staff is  _her_  hand.

“Hey there.” EL smiled. Should it be  _suggestive_? Should he  _wink_? How pleasant should he be? He had never actually tried to seduce anyone before, but he was sure he could muddle his way through this. Pointing to the empty cushion on the leather loveseat beside the  _fool_ , he tried his  _warmest_  and most genuinely fake smile. “Is this seat taken? Mind if I join you?”

“Sorry.” Looking up from his newspaper, the  _gentleman_ , in his tailored suit and expensive watch, surveyed her up and down, his eyes judging every single inch of her with disdain. “I think I’d prefer to sit alone.”    


> _Wait … what? Was he serious?_

EL wasn’t being ignorant, but this reaction had just  _never_  occurred to him. She was cute. Downright  _adorable_ , in fact. She had  _many_  qualities that one  _should_  find desirable, but this  _human_  only chose to focus on the bits he disliked and the extreme level of scrutiny that ran across the man’s mind sent pangs of fury brewing into the Morningstar’s chest.

EL urged himself to remain calm. He could destroy the man’s soul.  _Fuck_. He could destroy  _every_  soul in this terminal, but …  _stealth mode_. The Traveller would be on him like a fucking  _hawk_  if he showed any amount of  _power_  right now.    


> _Too old._

This man was her senior by  ** _18_**  years.  _This man was old enough to be her goddamn father_. EL refused the urge to shake her damn head.    


> _Too short._

Who the hell was this man kidding? Who was he lying to? Himself? He liked Asian women and  _most_  of those conquests had actually been shorter than her. EL played them over in his mind and cringed slightly.  _Ugh._     


> _Lesbian haircut._

Her hair was actually longer than  _his_.    


> _Too fat_.

_Wow_. This one shocked EL. She was actually much skinnier than  _EL_  thought she should be. But given the man’s propensity for Asian women, maybe this one wasn’t shocking at all. Also, this man was easily thirty to forty pounds overweight himself. _Fucking gross._   _Hypocritical asswi–_     


> _Is that a mop handle?_

This did  _not_  look like a  _fucking mop handle_. This was a GODDAMN CELESTIAL WEAPON.    


> _Is that Duct Tape on her pants?_

Yes. Yes it was. EL grinned uncontrollably. Maybe he should have found a tiny black dress to wear instead? Impractical.    


> _Wait, is that … blood on her ear?_

_Whoops_. Yeah, that one was  _all_  EL’s fault. Ending the man in the truck had been  _messier_  than he expected. His intention had just been to snap the man’s neck, but he used far too much strength. EL wiped the drop from  _her_  lobe quickly as he stared at the man with growing frustration. This man was repugnant, but his soul was shades of gray lighter than the dark that would require him to go  _straight_  to hell. Most of the people in this building fit into that same category.  _Hmmmm_. He urged himself to remain patient again.

“I’m too short, huh?” It slipped out before he could catch it. “Who the fuck are you lying to,  _Robert Peter_? Yourself?”

 _Whoops_. The man adjusted with unease as his first and middle name slipped out of  _her_ mouth and he looked around, trying to spy a security guard as he folded his newspaper and flung it down on the table before him. “I think you should leave-”

“Listen,  ** _Bob_**. Let’s have a conversation,  _Gentleman to Gentleman_ , yes?” EL eased down into the seat the man had refused him. It would be necessary to take a different approach. Fair enough. He’d prefer it this way, in fact. “I’m in need of a ride, and lucky for you … you’re in the position to give it to me. I think you’ll find it’s in both of our best interests to be compliant in this matter.”

“In my  _best interests_?” The man scoffed. “I don’t think you know who you are deal–”

“Do I not?” EL peeled apart his memories, looking for something to use. “Robert Peter Dupree? CEO of Baltic Sea Enterprises? Husband and father of three. Born in Iowa to Betty and Steph–”

“It’s definitely time for you to leave.” Now the man was fully angry and he stood up, looking around for someone to  _remove_  EL.

“I wonder … does Sarah know your propensity for younger women?” EL knew she didn’t, or at least Robert didn’t know if she knew and that’s all that mattered. “How’s her chemotherapy going, by the way? Did she get into that drug trial?” She actually had, and EL knew it. “I wonder what the stress of this would–”

The man  _laughed out loud_. “Ah, I see. You want to extort me?” He shook his head and EL relished in his ignorance.

“Exort? No, no, no. This is definitely more  _blackmail_ , wouldn’t you say?” EL patted the leather cushion next to  _her_  body, inviting the man to sit back down. “The  _younger_  the better, right,  _Bob_?” EL  _knew_  he hated that name. Only Robert’s older brother got away with calling him that.

The man’s right eye twitched slightly and his hand went up, finally flagging down the guard that had just re-entered the terminal from the bathroom. “I’ve had enough of this …”

“And the young girl in Montreal?”

EL licked his lips as the man pointed at down at him. “Wait just a fucking minute there …  _that was_ –”

“Wait … How old was she again?” The Devil laughed and scratched  _her chin_  with growing amusement. He enjoyed this game. He enjoyed the look on the man’s face. He enjoyed  _winning_. “Was it 16 or  _15_? Or was it  _younger_? I forget …”

“That was  _not_  my fault … “ The man’s eyes flashed wider. “ _She said she was–_ ”

“She said, or was it  _her pimp_  that said? I forget the details …”

“You … you have  _no proof_.” The man spat. So certain because he had made sure it was  _all_  destroyed. All the proper people had been paid off and …  _there was just no way._

“I mean, Sarah  _might_  forgive you. Your kids won’t though. Children can be such fickle assholes …  _trust me_. But …  _would your shareholders forgive you_?”

EL leaned back and relaxed as the guard stood before them. A look of pure innocence graced his face as he waited for the man’s decision.

“Sir, is there a problem here?” The guard prodded while the man stared in horror.

Robert took a quiet moment to consider the situation and he watched an evil grin spread wider across  _her_   _lovely spotted_  face.

“Sir?” The guard pressed again.

“No.”  _Good boy. Good, good, good boy_. “No, sorry. Just a misunderstanding. We’re fine.”

Once they were alone again, EL patted the cushion beside him, actually giving the man a little wink this time.

“What do you want from me?” As the man surrendered to the seat, he looked down at his empty palms, guilt washing over him. “Money?”

“Like I said before,  ** _Bob_** , I just need a ride.” He pulled the glasses from  _her_  face, revealing  _his_  beautiful yet terrifying eyes as he patted the man on the back. “And then you’ll  _never_  see me again.  _Swear to GOD_.” EL made an cross over  _her_  heart as he lied.

##  _They’d all see him again._

##  _Every soul on this planet would_   ** _see_**   _him again._

##  _He planned on it._

##  _Every soul would see his face the instant before as he would erase them all from existence …_    


 

* * *

“Don’t tell people that.” Michael shook his head, chastising his  _other_  as he watched the Onondaga eye them with growing suspicion. After the initial shock of  _their_  arrival wore off, they finally afforded the two  _Thunders_  a moment of solitude to rest. Michael, more so than Ozryel, required a moment to reflect and heal from what just occurred to him, both physically and emotionally. His divinity slowly pooling with in his soul, he struggled with the sadness that brewed in his chest and he relaxed fully in the chair they had ushered him to when he nearly collapsed to the dirt.

“Why not?” Ozryel shrugged innocently, defying her brother’s advice. “It’s the truth. I  _am_  the  _Angel of Death_.”

“It doesn’t make people  _want to help us_. You know that.”

“Or perhaps …” She grinned devilishly. “It makes them even  _more inclined_  to help us.”

Michael shook his head and Barbara approached them with hesitation. Her eyes watching Ozryel with unease. “You feelin’ better now,  _Great Thunder_? Mind if I bother you again?” Michael didn’t have to read her mind to pick up her condescension; it was rich in her voice. She had bombarded him with questions immediately after their arrival and he had dismissed her. Now that he was sitting and able to catch his breath, she began again. “Any idea where  _Our Great Fire_  is?”

“I know where he  _was_ , Barbara.” Michael cracked his neck as he spoke. He understood the woman cared for the  _Djinn_  and he could appreciate her concern. “Just give me a few moments and we’ll go see if he’s still there.”

“If you would just tell us, we can–” She began to argue.

“We’ll get there  _much_  faster than you, my dear,  _even_  if you afford us the moments we require to … re-ground ourselves.” Ozryel interrupted and the deer clan mother shot her a particularly nasty look. “Please, just give us a longer moment.”

The woman grumbled something in their native language under her breath and stepped away, though not far, maintaining an eye on their new visitors.

“OOoooo.” Ozryel gritted her teeth and shook her head. “She does  _not_  like you, little brother.” She then looked around at everyone else eyeing  _her_  suspiciously.

“Yeah well …” Michael shrugged. “That makes  _two_  of us then, huh?”

“What?” Ozryel spun and scraped at their minds. “What on  _Earth_  did I do–”

“ _What on Earth?_  Are you serious? Oz …” Michael sighed. “You  _tried_  to take over the  _world!_ ” He waved at her face. “They  _knew_  they were fighting a rogue  _Thunder_  last year. It’s pretty damn obvious–”

“So what?” She scoffed on the implication, refusing his explanation. “How do they know  _it was me_?”

“Come on, Oz …  _you look just like your little meat puppets_.”

“Well …  _shit_.” She touched her face and then sneered in disappointment, resisting the urge to kick the medium-sized rock at her feet in a childish display of frustration. “Humans aren’t known for their  _overly_  forgiving nature. Well …  _that wasn’t me._ ” Michael stared at her and raise an eyebrow. “What?  _It wasn’t_! How many times do I need to repeat mysel–”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to  _help us out_  a little while you’re waiting?” Barbara was back already, asking as she pointed at the blown over tents around the immediate area. Their impact had done more damage than just the crater on the ground.

“Help you out?” Ozryel was taken back by the request. “What? You want us to  _help you put up tents_?” She was slightly insulted. They had  _no time for that!_  “Good lord, we really must be on our way.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re going  _anywhere_  right now.” Barbara thrust a chin towards Michael, never breaking eye contact with Ozryel. The look on this woman’s face terrified Oz and a chill ran down her spine.  _Ooooof._

“Well … we’ll only be a  _minute_.” Oz tried to explain. “Then we’ll be off to find  _your Great Fire_  and  _my son_  and everything will be–.”

“Your son?” Barbara grinned slightly. “You mean …  _Baldy_?”

This peaked Ozryel’s interest and she turned to face the woman with her full attention, her red eyes wide with excitement. “You’ve seen Quintus?!”

“Oh yeah …” Barbara waved her hand toward the parking lot. “He came through here a couple of hours ago. Made a phone call and tore outta here. That  _son of a bitch_  …” Barbara hesitated and the two women glared at each other over the subtle insult. “… took my  _three best soldiers_  with him.”

Ozryel beamed now as she clapped greedily and rubbed her hands together. “He’s here! He’s corporeal again!!! Come on, brother …” She turned and pulled Michael to his feet, very much against his own will. “Up and Adam,  _Leftie_! We’re going now!”

“Oz …” Michael could do little against her strength, but he struggled to maintain his own posture as he stumbled slightly in his stance. “We need to take a minute. We don’t even know  _where_  to go …”

“We’re going to find Quintus. He couldn’t have gotten very far. You alright to fly, or would you like me to carry you? I’d actually prefer  _not_  to carry you, if that is possible–”

Her zeal frustrated him and he gripped his forehead. “Quintus is  _not_  the reason we’re here. We need to worry about  _Dawn_  and the  _Rainbow Child_. I know that you want to–”

“That is precisely why we  _must_  find my child, you fool.” Her tone had shifted dramatically and he stared into her serious eyes, his own face full of confusion. “Right now …  _reasoning_  with  _your child_  is the only thing that matters and I have severe doubts that she will listen to  _anything_  …” She waved at his body, pointing out his current weakened state. “Either one of  _us_  will have to say.”

“She’ll listen to  _reason_.” Michael spat back. “She isn’t a fool–”

“Reason?” Ozryel balked. “Because she listened to  _reason_  before, didn’t she? Have you  _not_  already tried to  _reason_  with her?”

The glare from her other was undeniably menacing and he gritted his teeth, sneering as he spoke. “Stay out of my mind,  _Ozryel_.” The only way she would know that is if she had taken it from his memories, like she had.

“Psh. Whatever,  _Goldie Locks_.” She waved off his burgeoning anger. “Your mind is like  _an open book to me. Always and forever, just_   _as it should be_.”

“Ozryel!” He took a step forward, but he knew was in no shape to even  _threaten_  to challenge her. He also knew he was in an irrational state over …  _everything_  … that had just occurred. “I’m warning you.”

“Oh … do you want to  _fight_   ** _me_**   _now_ , Brother?” She stepped forward and challenged his obvious bluff, poking him violently in his sternum with her index finger and he stumbled back down into the chair behind him. “I know you are  _hurting_. I know you  _grieve_. I can feel it.” She gripped her own chest. “But that doesn’t make my words any  _less_  true and you  _know_  this.”

Michael was full of so much anger  _and_  frustration. Yes. He did know her words were true. He knew her logic was sound, but he argued still. “ _She_  is what matters right now …  _not him_. You are letting your own love cloud–”

“Yes. Precisely.  ** _She_**   _is the only thing that matters right now, Brother, and_   ** _he_**   _is the only person she will_   ** _hear_**. As much as you  _don’t_  want them to love, as much as you long to control that. You can’t. And the more you try to push your own agenda upon her, the more you will  _push_  her away,  _My Gloriously Spotted One_.”

“Gah.” Michael tried to wave it off, but Ozryel continued.

“She is as defiant as they come. Trust  _me_ , for I have  _experienced_  that fact personally.”

“Fine.” Michael surrendered to the logic of her statements. “So what do you wanna do? You just wanna  _fly_  around, looking for him like  _a pair of fucking vultures_?” She furrowed her brows at his words. “He could be hundreds of miles away by now and  _very likely is_ , the little shit … I wouldn’t even know what direction to start.”

“If we are within a closer distance, I can reach his mind …” Oz looked up into the sky as she scratched the back of her neck.

“ _Uh_  … Or … ” Barbara was talking  _again_  and Ozryel swung around dramatically to express her continued annoyance at the woman’s presence. The deer clan mother was waving her phone towards the two arguing Thunders. “How about I just  ** _call them_**?”   



	87. Fan Art - Mine

 

# Merry Christmas Everyone!

Enjoy an amazing fan art of Dawn and Quintus by alexologyart@tumblr.

[MINE | Quintus and Dawn, a very, very merry Christmas.](https://alexologyart.tumblr.com/post/168894241635/mine-quintus-and-dawn-a-very-very-merry)

This is a present for my beloved friend @strainingfororiginality based on the Strain’s character, Mr. Quinlan, and her original character, Dawn Maxwell, protagonist from the fanfiction ‘A Savage Inconvenience’.


	88. 11.2 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, my lovelies! (◠‿◠✿)ノ
> 
> Did you miss me?
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**[Dear, Home - EXES](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1vd7NjISlH0Mwc9CkAt7Fb&t=NTI2OTcyNTA3YzhhMmJlN2NkYWUwNjFjMzRiNTJhNGQyNmNlZjExOCxBeGZkeEN5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169171900273%2Fchapter-112-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Am I in your thoughts, love?_
> 
> _Am I in your dreams_
> 
> _It seems you never let me stay_
> 
> _I could say I’m happy_
> 
> _I could lie and say you’re never in my dreams_
> 
> _It seems you never let me stay_

“How’re you doing?” Her  _brother_  looked around the bustling coffee shop terrace as he spun the triple red eye latte in his hands before taking a long and gluttonous swig of the steaming hot liquid.

“Good. It’s been nice …  _here_.” She managed a smile and took a sip of her tea to avoid having to speak further. She might have ordered coffee, but it didn’t seem to have much effect, and who would drink it  _just_  for the taste?  _Yuck._  She missed  _coffee_ though.

“You know, when you said you were gonna use your dad’s  _inheritance_  to move to the city, I thought they had swapped your body with someone else’s.” He chuckled deeply.

 _Her brother? He was her brother? “Your dad’s” ? No, that wasn’t entirely right. He was her half-brother_ , wasn’t he? Yes. That was it. The details and memories in her mind clashed over the inconsistencies but she shook them off and managed another weak smile. He really looked nothing like her.

“I like it. It’s all very convenient.” Sure. Why not? But why was he even asking? Did he really care? “Why does it matter? It’s  _my money_. I can do what I want with  _my money_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shrugged, brushing his raven black hair away from his dark sunglasses. “You’ve just always wanted to live in the country, I thought. I always pictured you buying a little farm and … I dunno.  _Writing_  or some hippie shit.”

 _Hippie_?  _What the_?! She has  _never_  given the impression of being a …  _hippie_. She knew once her face curled up in disdain over the comment, he had done it to push her buttons as he cackled loudly.

He was still talking, but his voice rambled off, fading away as she stared down at the paper cup. She told herself to pay attention to what he was saying, but she didn’t really care. Did it matter where she lived? It was entirely up to her. She was the captain of her own fate, right? In the end, she knew why she didn’t pick the farm and it made her feel somewhat weak to admit it. The answer was  _simple_. She just didn’t want to be so alone …  _again_.

“Well?” He asked, his finger teasing the edge of his sunglasses again. She could tell he wanted to pull them off, but she also knew  _why_  he didn’t.

“Well what?” Uh oh. Ah shit. He had asked her something but she hadn’t been paying attention anymore.

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?” He reached out, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know  _his loss_  hasn’t been easy.” He was talking about …  _her father_. Yeah. That’s how she got the inheritance, but something else tugged on her mind. It was the way her  _brother_  had said it ….

 ** _His_**   _loss_.

“I know.” She answered and nodded that she understood his offer. It was genuine. Even if nothing else felt real, she knew this was genuine. “But I’m really doing fine. You don’t have to worry about me. It’s nice …  _here_.”

“Ok.” He released her hand and leaned back into his chair, rocking it back onto its hind legs as he took another gluttonous chug of his hot drink. “So, tell me about him then …”

“Tell you about  _who_?” She was terrible at playing innocent, even though she seemed to be  _an amazing liar_.

“You know who.” He pointed down at her phone, laying conspicuously next to her tea cup. She had checked it at least ten times since they had sat down thirty minutes ago. “Whoever you keep chatting with.” His grin was both happy and devilish. “Is he nice?”

 _Devilish_  …

“He’s …” She paused, the conversation lingering as she fished for the perfect and succinct word to describe Mr. Rahim. “ _Simple_.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan mulled over the story in his mind. He thought about every single detail espoused and when Thomas was done telling it, the dhampir fell silent for a number of minutes as he turned the blade over and over in his hands while he thought.

“Ya know, Q-ball …” Fet glanced over from the driver’s seat, looking down at the unsheathed sword in the Quinlan’s grip. “I’d feel better if ya’d quit monkeying with dat thing.”

“Mr. Fet, I’ve been handling weapons safely for  _nearly_  two thousand years.” Quinlan rolled his head in annoyance at Fet’s unnecessary nervousness.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah …  _two thousand years_  …” Fet mocked him, gripping the wheel tightly in his uneasiness. “I just don’t wanna hit a bump and then it just … yeah know … slips out of yer hands and  _oops_ , there goes my soul, ya know? Boom. No more Fet. Just wiped from existence, yeah?”

“Then I should hope that you would want to  _keep your eyes on the road_  then.” Quinlan smirked before directing his next question to the back seat, and to one of the three people squeezed within, sitting directly behind Vasily. “Tell it all again. Leave no detail out. And this time from  _the very beginning_.”

Thomas sighed, adjusting his uncomfortable position and pushing against Barqan’s shoulder. “I was in Philadel–”

“No.” Quinlan cut him off immediately. “I said the  _very beginning_ , snake.”

“And to which  _beginning_  would you be referring,  _Lord_?”

“Begin with Flight 753.” 

“Hmmm. Very well. She was intended to be on the flight. When she was not present, the Master–”

“ _Your Master_.” Quinlan corrected him. He would no longer call that  _creature_  by that name. It afford it a perception of  _power_  he was no longer comfortable with.

“MY MASTER …” Thomas corrected his speech with exaggeration. “… reacted rather …” Thomas pinched his eyes shut in disappointment over the entire affair. “Poorly to the situation. Draining the plane  _on the tarmac_  was not exactly the original plan.”

“Next, you abducted her from  _Newark, yes_?” Quinlan shifted uncomfortably. He had heard this story from  _her mouth_  and he didn’t wish to hear it again from the mouth of her torturer, but there were things that still didn’t make sense to him. Shifting the rear view mirror away from Mr. Fet’s utility, he positioned it so he could stare directly into the Nazi’s eyes, allowing him to read the man’s expression for any obvious lies. “ _Continue_.”

The strigoi’s eyes grew wide and he understood what Quinlan was asking for. Telling this story to  _him_  clearly made Thomas nervous. It was clear the dhampir had a bit of an anger problem. “If you wish it from the  _true beginning_  … then I should begin with Stoneheart.  ** _My_**  master has been searching for  _a halfling_  for quite some time.”

Yes. This much was obvious. The professor had figured out  _this much_  before his mortal death. This was why the Master sought out Sardu, the Giant. “Proceed.”

“ _Everything_  began to fall into place in the fall of 2002 when Eldritch Palmer acquired a small company that focused primarily on consumer based  _DNA_  testing …”

Quinlan growled lowly as the lapdog spoke. With each word, with every description that squeaked passed the snake’s lips, Quinlan gripped the handle of his new weapon tighter, resisting the urge to spear the Nazi through the chest with it.

George swiped to accept the call with his right hand as he continued to steer with his left. “Yeah?”

The deer clan mother’s voice on the other end sounded unusually rattled. “Did you find  _Barqan_?”

George was about to answer but a high pitched and feminine voice cut into the conversation from the background of Barbara’s phone.  

> “ _Oh good lord. We don’t care about the Black King. Is Quintus still with them? Find out where they are._ ”
> 
> “ _Oz, for Christ’s sake, just let her–_ ” Another unfamiliar masculine voice joined the background argument.
> 
> “ _We cannot delay simply because she wishes–_ ”
> 
> Barbara’s voice sounded distant and annoyed as she pulled the phone away to answer the unfamiliar voices. “ ** _Would you just let me talk to him, please?_** ”

There was an second of pure silence before Barbara’s voice came back at full volume. “ _Sorry_. Did you find him?”

“Yeah. He’s with us.”

“He alive?”

“Yeah. He seems fine.” George didn’t see a point in telling her he was a  _bit_  roughed up right now.

“What about the  _Thunderling_? He still with you?”

“Mr. Quinlan? Yeah. We picked up some other people too. Friend’s of his. Gus from–”

She interrupted. “You heading back to camp now?”

“Nope. We heading to  _Philadelphia_  to catch a flight. Lots of shit goin’ down. Not sure where we’ll go from there though.”

George heard  _nothing_. He waited for a moment, expecting a response or at the very least another question, but not even the sound of the background wind was present and he pulled the phone back to see the call had completely cut off.

 _Shit_. He attempted a swipe to call her back, but the call refused to connect.  _No signal_.

 _Weird_. They were actually getting into more populated areas. There should be signal on this road. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and gripped the steering wheel with both hands tightly as he focused his senses. Glancing into the rear view mirror, he verified that Jacks was still there and didn’t seem at all worried, but something …

George took a very deep breath and mulled over the scents. Too many to discern anything from. The more populated the area, the less his sense of smell would tell him much. There wasn’t blood or strigoi or …

 _But there was a sound_. A very distant and low humming that never seemed to change in pitch or direction. One with which he wasn’t familiar and his grip tightened even further. Gus picked up on the change of demeanor immediately. “Something wrong, man?”

George nodded. “Yeah … Something’s off.”

 

* * *

 

“You … you fucking  _tortured_  her?” Dutch asked, her voice cracking slightly as she glared at Thomas across Barqan. “You kinda left that bit out before … didn’t you?”

“Mrs. Fet, please. I know this subject is …” What to even say at this point? There was nothing he could say to calm the rage boiling in her body. “I’d prefer to stay on track.” He tried to control the conversation, but it was obvious Dutch was intent on clarifying  _this_  particular part of the story further.

“You don’t seem phased  _at all_.” She caught Quinlan’s glance and understood. “You already  _knew, didn’t you? She told you?_ ”

“Yes. She told me  _and_  I have  _seen_  the scars.” Quinlan didn’t wish to proceed down this line of questioning as he could see Dutch getting more incensed with each word. Her and the Nazi already had a tumultuous relationship, to put it mildly.

“She should have killed you.” Dutch spat towards the Nazi. “ _I would have killed you_. I would have–”

“As would I have.” The dhampir interjected, expressing his own anger through a sneer, offering Dutch some understanding. “But clearly she is a better person than  _either_  one of us.”

“Still, I don’t think we should–” She still wanted her own  _vengeance_ , it seemed.

“She saw value in  _his life_ , Dutch. I am not asking you to forgive him, nor what he has done  _to you_ , but I have every intention of honoring that value … as long as he remains useful.” Quinlan squashed her anger and Dutch relaxed back against the seat, crossing her arms in a pout. “But your explanation …” He was questioning Thomas again. “His need to  _corrupt_  her, as you have called it, makes little sense. A Hayyoth cannot be sent to the  _pit_ , otherwise  _we_  would not be having this conversation.” Quinlan was still certain  _he_  would have gone to the pit, if it hadn’t been for his own Hayyoth divinity.

“And how is it,  _Lord_ , that you believe the Morning Star came to be in Hell to begin with?” Thomas asked and Quinlan just stared for a moment, conveying his annoyance over the implication of ignorance. It was a fair question and the dhampir grumbled.

“But Hayyoth  _cannot_  die. That is–” Quinlan began, but was interrupted again, this time by the  _Marid_  King, who had been exceptionally quiet during the entire ride.

 

“But  _what is death_? How is it that one defines this state?”

“Pardon?” Quinlan turned to face him, spinning around in the passenger seat fully, his face flushed with insult. “ _Is that sarcasm_? I do not appreciate riddles,  _Black King_.”

“It is not meant as such, no.” Barqan stammered. “I mean, now that one  _knows_  the rules, the worlds at play …  _what is death? To you, what does this word mean now_?”

“As  _you_  were so kind to explain to me back in  _that tent_  …” Quinlan squinted at him. “There are  _two kinds of death_. The first and the second.”

“Exactly.” Barqan agreed. “ _The first death_  … is simply a transition, if you will. It is the  _disconnection_  of a soul from its physical  _shell_. You’ve experienced this. Even  _a Hayyoth_  can experience this.”

“Indeed.” Quinlan listened patiently.

“So, while it is true that Hayyoth  _cannot_  experience  _the second death_ , that which means to be truly extinguished,  _wiped_  clean from existence, their spirit CAN be forced from its shell. And just as  _you_  have now also experienced, they can be  _reconnected_ with it.”

“Yes, but …” Quinlan shook his head. “I was told  _divine creations_  were not judged as humans. I was told  _our spirits_  always flee to Heaven, bypassing the need for judgement or punishment of any sins transgressed.”

“This is true, save  _one_  sin alone.  _One based purely on_   ** _intent_**. One that God chose to punish regardless of the divinity of the spirit.” Barqan sighed. “One that would  _force_ the sentiment that …  _Life is precious and cherished_. Regardless though …” Now the Djinn addressed the Nazi. “Hell is  _only_  a one way trip. It was created as such and–”

“Lucifer is  _not_  bound in Hell. He can follow  _any_  of the damned spirits back to Earth along the divine link left between a soul and its host. He has done so many times, but … the human shells have proven too weak, simply unable to contain him for more than  _mere moments_. Trust me,  _Djinn_ , for I have witnessed this attempt  _many_  times.”

Quinlan shifted, cocking his head to the right as he glared at the Nazi. As something particularly concerning crossed his mind, his grip tightened on the blade’s handle. “ _And … what of my shell?_ ”

Dutch cut in suddenly and it was obvious that she and Fet had already heard all of this from Thomas and she would prefer Quinlan didn’t know what would be confessed next. “Maybe we can just–”

“What of my shell?” He pushed again, his lips curling up to expose the clenched vampiric teeth within.

“You proved quite difficult to  _corrupt, My Lord_.  _Though_   ** _My Master_**  did try.” The dhampir blinked at this statement and dissected what it might mean in silence. Unable to rip his eyes from the German’s cold stare, Thomas reluctantly continued. “Your life was filled with  _much_  tragedy, was it not? Did you never think it might have been engineered that way?” Quinlan was at a loss. What was the implication of … “Every time you loved. Every time you settled. Every time you …  _felt more human than monster_ –”

“He was there. The Master was there.” His father had always been there. Taking everything he cared about away from him and to make a point that it was  _Quinlan’s_ fault.  _Always_. His life and pain had been …  _a game_? “No … I don’t … ”

“Unfortunately, it only proved to fuel your unyielding anger. To intensify your impressive hate. When it was apparent you could not be … corrupted …  _broken_  … it was already too late.”

“Too late for  _what_?”

Thomas swallowed. “Your anger fueled  ** _my_**  Master’s anger and so on and so forth. Hate begets more hate. More pain. More sorrow. The two of you spiralled together into deeper insanity each passing year, feasting upon one another.” Thomas cleared his throat. “Her discovery was a  _godsend_ , if you will.  ** _My_**  Master looked forward to finally ridding himself of  _your torment_.”

“No.” Quinlan refused, scoffing at the implication. “You are blaming  _me_  for  _his_ madness? You are blaming me for–”

“He was  _mad_. Yes. Quite mad, especially compared to his brothers, yes? But did you ever wonder why? What was it that made him so very different from them,  _Born_? Consider it. What was the  _one thing_  that  _made_  him special?” Thomas’ voice was riddled with amusement, as if he was getting to spoil a great mystery. “They were all the  _very_  same …  _except for_   ** _you_**.  ** _He might have made you, Born, but your existence also made him._** ”

“No.” Quinlan turned back around and gripped the handle even tighter. “No.”

“Hey …” Fet looked over and read the anger in the dhampir’s contorting face. “Should I pull over? Ya wanna take a walk maybe? Der’s a gas station up the road a bit. We’ll need to fill up anyways.”

“Yes. I think that would be for the best.” Quinlan stared at the beautiful sword and nodded once. It would be very bad if he lost his temper on the Nazi now. His anger subsided momentarily as he caught a glimpse of Jacks waving to them from the bed of the truck as it followed close behind. The signs, scattered along the desolate road, stated it would be a few miles up ahead.

Quinlan’s hand meandered to the bowie knife tucked into the belt of his pants. His fingers prodded the serrated blade as he recalled the massive pool of blood in the cabin. Even Fet could see the concern on his face as Quinlan’s brows pinched together and he refused what the implication of it all was.

Was he too late? If what the Nazi was saying was true, then all signs pointed to the affirmative.

“We can pull over now, yeah?”

“No, stop at the station.” Quinlan took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he pinched the brow of his nose. “We’ve delayed long enough.”

“Everything ok?” Fet’s face contorted with growing worry. “What ain’t you tellin’ us, man? Dat look on your face …”

Quinlan ignored the prod and turned the mirror to face Barqan now. “ _Explain precisely what you meant by …_   ** _intent_**.”

 

* * *

 

**[Expectations - Huntar](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1hFQTPcnreIoOkUSfW1ewX&t=MjUzNGQ0YjYzNmM2MGE1ODQyYTY4NDk2ODI3NDQ1NTJhNWE0NzAyZixBeGZkeEN5WQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169171900273%2Fchapter-112-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _On and on and on and on_
> 
> _We make a way, we find a way._
> 
> _On and on and on and on_
> 
> _We break away, we live with expectations, expectations._
> 
> _And oh, will it ever be enough?_
> 
>  

Gabriel took the fight to the ground and Raphael readily complied. It didn’t matter to him. Either way, his big brother was no match for him. He needed to wear the giant out, either physically, which might take hundreds of years, or  _emotionally_. He was opting for the latter, as there were no rational thoughts coursing through his big brother’s mind at the moment.

Raphael hadn’t wished to confess to him this way, but time was short. They needed to act  _now_. He could only hope that with each passing moment, he could reason with him, but every time he attempted to speak to him, to reach into him, to call out to him, Gabriel would thrash, charge, strike, or scream.

Now on their feet, they had reverted to hand to hand combat, though Gabriel couldn’t land a single blow and his frustration was steeping with each strike that failed.

“You cannot win, brother. Accept it and  _listen to me_.” Raphael dodged and swiftly countered with a blow that sent Gabriel reeling backwards. “It simply isn’t  _possible_.”

“ _Bullshit_!” Gabriel swung in a feint strike and brought his heel up with the intended kick, but Raphael was already there, blocking and countering again and again. Perfectly timed. Perfectly executed. “How are you doing this?!? It’s not possible!”

“Possible?” Raphael smiled. “How can you  _possibly_  hope to beat someone who can read your every thought, brother? I know what your next move will be because you plan it. Each and  _every single time_.” The Indigo Son spoke truthfully. He wasn’t  _physically_  stronger then Gabriel, nor was he  _faster_ , but none of that mattered, because he knew what his brother was going to do before he did it. There was no possibility of victory. And even if Raphael wavered on  _this_  part, his brother simply stood no match against his divinity. “Yield and let us speak as civilized–”

“Brother? No.” Gabriel spat. “You are  _no longer a brother_  of mine. You  _no longer_  get to use that title on me.”

“What?” Raphael questioned, his brows pinching furiously as the words struck a painful chord deep within his chest. “You  _are_  my brother and you will  _always_  be my brother, regardless of how angry you are with me right now.  _Nothing_  can or  _will_  ever negate our relation.”

“I  _trusted_  you …” Gabriel swung, his roundhouse punch was sloppy but  _fast_ , powered by rage. Raphael stepped to the side with ease.

“And I  _still_  trust you, brother …” Raphael let the desperation leak into his voice. “I will  _always_  trust–”

“ _Trust_!? Is this how you show  _trust_?!” Gabriel balked. “Snake … and Heaven  _trusted_ you! Father–”

“Harbour whatever anger you wish towards me, but I ask that you delay it.” Raphael ducked under another swing, but this time he grabbed the back of his brother’s fist and thrust the angel backwards. Gabriel stumbled and Raphael crackled with power. “The Rainbow Child is  _rising_ , Gabriel. We–”

“HAHAHAHA!”  _Dammit_. Raphael shook his head at his brother’s refusal. It wasn’t entirely irrational, as much as Raphael hated to admit it. Everything that made sense had now crumbled. Michael had kept a dangerous secret from them and now Raphael was standing against him and Heaven’s laws. “You think I’m a fool?”

“Not yet.” Raphael countered. “But carry on this way and you’ll prove you are. There are more  _important_  things we need to be–”

“Ah! You  _want_  me to comply? You  _need_  me to step aside, so now you spin a tale of the only  _threat_  that I would–”

“Gabriel. You must trust me.” Gabriel kicked at Raphael and the angel jumped back, flying backwards into the air in a beautiful arch and landing ten feet away before his body sparked and he closed the distance between them instantly, reaching his two hands out to place them on either side of Gabriel’s temple. “ _I will show you what I know_.”

It was a calculated risk but it was ill planned. Gabriel wasn’t ready to listen yet and the massive Angel took the opportunity to grab each of Raphael’s hands before they could touch him and he bent his brother’s hands back. He could see the flicker of purple bubbling over his other’s skin, but Gabriel moved faster than Raphael could react, head butting brutally hard as he brought his thick skull against the middle of his little brother’s face.

Gabriel cackled madly. “Do you think I would trust  _anything_  you would show me,  _snake_?” He spat as Raphael stumbled back. The smaller angel’s eyes were watering and he was struggling to regain his thoughts as Gabriel landed a blow finally and Raphael buckled to the ground, falling to his knees, falling forward to his palms as his head hung low. Gabriel wasted no time, stepping deep towards his brother as he cocked his leg back, barrelling a vicious knee towards his brother’s face, thought it would never connect with its intended target. “Do you think I am–”

Raphael stood straight up, avoiding the knee. The upper cut that followed was beautifully violent and perfectly timed. As his mocha fist connected with the bottom of Gabriel’s jaw, there was a discernible crack as the Hayyoth’s bone buckled under the power of his strength. The massive Angel flew up, in an elegant arch not dissimilar to the one that Raphael had retreated with earlier, and he slammed into the ground ten feet away. Raphael was already on his feet, wiping away the blood that trailed from his nose.

Only once before, in his long life, had Gabriel ever felt his  _shell_  crack. Only  _once_ before, had he ever felt power like that. “You’re no better than the  _Morning Star_.” Gabriel spat the words as he pulled his jaw back together, rolling himself over and pushing himself back up to his feet. They were intended as an insult. They were intended to wound, but the mention of the  _little one’s_  name only brought sadness to both of their faces. Raphael’s gaze fell to the ground as he shook his head and Gabriel spoke again. “You have  _fallen_  … just like him …”

“ _No_. I have not.” Raphael attempted to regain control of his emotions. “It was not my intention to tell you like this,  ** _Rael_**.” Raphael rarely used his brother’s shortened name, since the fall of Ozryel in fact.

“And what did you think would happen,  ** _Phael_**?” Gabriel responded. “Did you think I would just  _bow_  before you? Did you think–”

“Bow?” Now Raphael was truly insulted. “You think that is I  _want_?! I refused it! That is…” Ugh. He shook his head with disbelief. “I am  _not_  your enemy. I am  _your brother_. _FEEL MY INTENTIONS_ ,  ** _RAEL_**!  _LET ME IN_.”

“I will only ask you this once … “ The wind blew fiercely as Gabriel’s skin popped with amber glow and he tapped into his divinity in a way Raphael had never seen. “What did you do with our father?” 

 

* * *

 

Quinlan watched from the front seat, peering out from beneath under the security of his hood as Fet argued with the man at the gas pump. The pompous attendant was gouging and attempting to extort some weapons for a few gallons of fuel.

“This has gone on long enough.” When the dhampir had enough of the negotiations, he reached for the handle of his door and Barqan grabbed his shoulder firmly. 

“And what exactly is your plan, Prince?”

“Is that not clear? I am going to kill this man and  _take_  his fuel.”

Thomas smirked at Quinlan’s bluntness, highly amused by it, but Barqan shook his head in disappointment. “You will  _either_  send his soul to  _Heaven_  or to  _Hell_. Either way  _could_  be bad for us.”

“Hmmm.” Quinlan sighed. He had assumed his new knowledge of the afterlife had freed him to be as  _ruthless_  as he needed to be, but the  _Black King_  was right. His hands were tired. “I wish I had thought about that earlier this day.” 

“What?” Barqan squeaked. “What do you mean? Wait … have you been killing people  _all day_?”

Quinlan joined Thomas in smirking. “Well, not  _all_  day. But, yes, there have been quite a few. They’ve all been soldiers though.” Was the last part even necessary? Maybe? Maybe not? He didn’t assume Barqan had any qualms about killing in general. “Then perhaps I can help to  _intimidate_  the man, at the very least …” It looked like the Black King might say something more in retort when all attention shifted to the knock on Quinlan’s window.

Not wishing to stay cramped in the backseat with the Nazi and Djinn, Dutch had opted to visit the truck, using an excuse to “Check on things”. As he rolled it down, she leaned over, reaching a hand out to him.

“Mind if I see your phone, love?”

“Of course.”

She took one look and then shoved it back, turning to George and Gus, who had followed her back to the car. “Yeah, he’s got no signal either.” She looked around suspiciously. “Fuck.”

“Are the towers functioning in this area?” Quinlan offered an explanation, but Dutch was already shaking her head as she scratched her chin.

“Nah. This area was  _good_  when we came through this morning. Something is …” Quinlan did not like the look on Dutch’s face. “Wrong.”

“Hey …” Fet tapped Gus on the shoulder. It seemed he was done negotiating and Fet still had his weapon  _and_  the man was now pumping their gas. Good.  _Good_. “Lemme see the pic. Maybe dis guy has seen her? Maybe she came through here. Don’t hurt to ask, yeah?”

Gus’ concerning behaviour was weighing heavily on Quinlan now and it only seemed to be getting worse, as the Boxer glanced at Quinlan guiltily before fishing a folded paper from his jacket pocket and handing it to Fet suspiciously. Quinlan watched with squinted eyes as Fet took it back to the attendant and began to unfold it. From his viewpoint, the dhampir could only tell it was a photograph and as Fet began to describe Dawn, he realized it was a picture of his poet.

 _Why would that be something Gus wished to hide from him?_  And it was painfully obvious Gus did wish to hide it. Quinlan might have obsessed over this for a bit longer, had George not spoken next.

“Mr. Quinlan, there’s something else … on the road …” The bear man locked eyes with the dhampir. “I swear I kept hearin’ something. But I don’t hear it anymore …”

“What do you think you heard?” Quinlan concentrated on that sense but detected nothing out of the ordinary. He had been so preoccupied with grilling his companions, he hadn’t been worried about their surroundings enough to heed it any attention. “What did it sound like?”

“It sounded almost  _mechanical_. It was  _humming_.” George said. “But that’s not the weird part … It never got  _far away_ , even while we were driving.”

“Wait. You mean …” Dutch cocked her head to the right. “Something was  _following_ us? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Yeah …” George shifted uncomfortably and looked up into the sky. “But nothing I ever heard before.”

“Get the fuel. We need to go  _now_.” Quinlan met his gaze, looking up into the gray sky.


	89. 11.3 - Sacrifice

 

**[Time After Time - Joseph William Morgan](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F01td17VcQxDBn3Xwo0MZRX&t=YmFhNTFiZDliZGY2ZjIyNjU2NWE3NWE4OThkMGRhODg2YWRlMjJmMyxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Sometimes you picture me–_
> 
> _I’m walking too far ahead_
> 
> _You’re calling to me, I can’t hear_
> 
> _What you’ve said–_
> 
> _Then you say–go slow–_
> 
> _I fall behind–_
> 
> _The second hand unwinds_
> 
> _If you’re lost you can look–and you will find me_
> 
> _Time after time_
> 
> _If you fall I will catch you–I’ll be waiting_
> 
> _Time after time_

She pushed the food around on her plate with her fork as he rattled on about something or other. Listening intently for a few seconds, she verified he was  _still_  talking about his company.  _Private Security_  something or other. He was very proud of it and the way he spoke made it seem like it was very successful, not that it really mattered to her though. It wasn’t what you  _did_  that made you who you are, but she knew that’s not why he was telling her about it with such enthusiasm. She understood that he wished to inform her that he could offer  _great security_  and she actually appreciated his zeal. 

> **_Private Security Firm._ **

But she didn’t care about his wealth. She had plenty of money, very likely more than him. Though, he wasn’t privy to  _that_  information about her quite yet. This was only their second date after all.

“Is there something wrong with the meal?” He asked, as he noticed she hadn’t taken a single bite yet. Looking around, he started to wave towards their waitress.

“Oh. No, no, no.” She smiled fakely and ushered the young woman off with her own wave. “No.  _Sorry_. It’s great.” It really was. “I just don’t have much of an appetite today, I guess.”

“I mean … You  _do_  like steak, right? I remember you saying–”

“Yes. I do.” She assured him as he looked down at her with furrowed brows, seemingly doubting her statement and she had to reinforce it again. “I  _promise_  I do.” Her smile turned genuine as it showed he actually paid attention to what she said …  _all the time_. She had mentioned craving a  _real steak_  during class, weeks earlier and this was, as he had stated when he convinced her to join him tonight, the  _best steak_  in town. She had actually meant something quite different when she said  _real_ , but alas, she digressed …

“Phew. Ok good.” He breathed deeply, relishing in her  _real_  grin. He could easily tell the difference between a polite and a  _real_  response. “I would have felt like  _an ass_  if that was sarcasm and I brought a  _vegan_  to a steakhouse.” 

> **_Ex-military._ **

To appease him, she forced one of the cubes of perfectly medium cooked meat into her mouth and chewed as he began to speak again and everything continued around her. While the subject was boring, at least he had a pleasant  _English_  accent. She really enjoyed  _English_  accents … 

> **_He did a lot of work in the Middle East, but not to worry, he was retired now._ **

Finishing the half of her wine glass with one massive gulp, he refilled it, pouring from the expensive bottle he had purchased for the table and she sat and half-listened. 

> **_He didn’t need to travel much anymore. He had men to do the work, and he just supervised from his New York office._ **

In all honesty, everything was remarkably perfect but she found herself staring at the lights and cars though the restaurant’s ceiling-high glass windows. All at once, everything seemed to  _ebb_  and  _flow_. Everything seemed to slow and then quicken suddenly. The effect repeated several times, almost to the perfect rhythm of a heartbeat until everything  _lurched_  forward.

The headlights flashed by and the speed of the cars accelerated. She had lived for  _months_  where time seem to  _crawl_  by, and now it seemed to be  _speeding_  along and her hand came up to her temple as she pinched her eyes shut from the piercing pain of her returning headache.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?” He noticed her hand at once and she was about to assure him she was fine when the rumbling started. It was in the distance and she stared blankly at the street.  _Did no one else hear this?_  Yes,  _he did_. Turning around, he set his fork down carefully as his head cocked to the right. “Do you hear that? What is that?”

Distant car alarms began first and then the lights outside began to shake before the ground beneath them followed with a low rumbling vibration. People screamed and scrambled, panicking as everyone began to move and the massive windows shattered into thousands of tiny pieces as the building danced against the moving ground. She might have just sat there like a fool, rubbing her now throbbing temple, had he not grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the doorway, his arm wrapped around her, holding her face to his chest until the ground beneath them subsided from its shaking fit.

Chaos ensued all around them in the aftermath of the quake and he pulled her back to look her over. “Are you alright?”

“Holy shit.” Her heart raced furiously. She had  _never_  been in an earthquake before. “What the  _fuck_  was that?”

“Are you  _alright_?” He asked again, his eyes staring towards the middle of her shirt and the fresh blood upon it. “You’re bleeding …”

Even if he hadn’t said anything, she would have realized because she could now taste the blood that was trailing from her right nostril into her agape mouth.

_Fuck. Her head was killing her … again._

* * *

**[Meissa - Mark Petrie](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1d58SHUTYbWvKHr2mg9Ute&t=ZGRkYWIxMTZkMWU4OGQ5YWNjNTZjMjIzYmQxNGZjY2NmMDc4MTA0ZixrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Nope. We’re heading to Phila–” George’s voice cut off and Barbara pulled the phone away from her head to see if the call was still connected, shouting behind her as she did. “Something up with repeater again? Yo! Someone get  _Ed_!”

“Let me see that.” Ozryel stepped forward and plucked the little device from the woman’s hand. Barbara attempted to snatch it back but the angel held her back at an arm’s length while she squinted at the signal indicator in the top corner. “No.” She said forcefully. “You’ve got signal. Here, let me just call him back.”

“Just give me back my phone, please.” Barbara reached for it again but Ozryel had already swiped to redial and she smiled at the woman as she held the phone up to her ear momentarily, before pulling it back and squinting at the screen.

“Hmmm … straight to voicemail.  _Damn_.” She turned to her seated brother. “No bother though. We got what we need. I imagine he was about to say Philadelphia, yeah? You good? Are you ready? Shall we?”

Michael still slouched in the rickety lawn chair. He said he needed rest, but something else was weighing on him now. He should have been somewhat better, but as the minutes rolled by, he was actually feeling worse. Looking up into his hopeful other’s eyes, he pushed the feeling aside and forced himself to stand, remembering Hathų’s words: 

> **Promise me … you will help our child.**

He  _had_  promised and he would  _not_  let her down. Neither of them. “Yeah.  _I’m good._ Let’s go.”

“Wait … What’s wrong?” Ozryel read the strange look on his face clearly, cocking her head to the right. “What aren’t you telling me, Brother?”

“We’ve delayed here long enough.” Michael stepped away from the tents and into the open space to ensure he wouldn’t cause further damage to their camp and spread his golden wings fully.

Barbara was quick to speak before the angel took flight. “Wait, what do we do, Hinon?” Reaching her hand up, her face contorting with growing worry. “Should we follow you? Should we–”

“No.” Michael looked back at the Deer Clan mother and the Onondaga people,  _his chosen people_ , his eyes full of glowing pride. A crowd had begun to gather and his eyes swept over every face and in each one, he saw  _Hathų’s_  face. His voice bellowed as he spoke to the entire group. “Continue with your charge.  _Protect the Gate_. At all costs. If we fail, it will be up to you.  _You are, as you have always have been, Man’s Last Stand_.”

The dust kicked up furiously as he took flight and the people covered their faces from the assault of dirt upon their eyes. Ozryel smirked gloriously and wave a tiny but animated wave before she followed her brother into the darkening afternoon sky.

“Wish us luck,  _Keepers of the Gate_! We will need it!”

Barbara watched them soar, realizing far too late, that the  _white-haired_  angel had absconded with her phone. Most likely on purpose. “HEY! HEY WAIT!” She shouted towards the clouds, waving her fists. “MY PHONE!!!” As the figures disappeared into the sky, Barbara grumbled under her breath. “Ass.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was already annoyed that the stash house had been cleaned out. It could have been the Master’s doing, as it was clear the Ancient had sussed out most of his hideaways from a year before or it might have just been human looters, but nonetheless, he was frustrated. He wanted his guns. He  _missed_  his guns. He found what little solace he could in the situation and though the weapons were long gone, at least most of his extra clothing remained.

Once he had rid himself of the camouflage grab, he smoothed out his standard attire and pulled on his leather gloves, feeling somewhat relieved. He changed quickly, but they shouldn’t delay long. The  _humming_  noise had not returned but its mere existence was concerning and as he came out of the back room, throwing on his large wool coat as he walked, he caught a glimpse of the end of an exchange between the Architect and the Boxer, as the taller man returned the folded photograph from earlier to the shorter man .

He watched Gus stuff it back into the pocket of his jacket, before looking around and catching the dhampir’s stare.

“We need to go. Right fucking now.” Dutch  _nearly_  distracted Quinlan from the Boxer again as she bounded into the room. She had opted to stay with the car and the other two braves to set up the gear again and check on the program she claimed was  _running in the cloud_. “I can’t even get satellite lock.”

“What does dat mean?” Fet bit.

“That means someone’s jammin’ us, love. We need to go …  _Did I mention_   ** _now_**?”

**[Vyapada (Anger) - Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7Mshql0XWdCfWv9KpHAZuu&t=YWI0NWQzYzcyNjQwZjBiYTE4NWMyZmU4YmJiZmJhNTQ2OTM5MGFiNyxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Yes.” Quinlan agreed and everyone began to move towards the exit. “We do.” This stop had proved quite pointless. If they had been able to arm themselves, then it would have been worth the risk, but first … He stood by the door, waiting for everyone to exit, feigning that he would shut it all after them, but he was merely waiting for the Boxer to get within his grasp. “But first … I grow so very tired of  _secrets_.”

He pushed Gus back against the wall with his right hand, using his palm to hold the Boxer in place as his left went for the pocket. Gus wasn’t amenable to the man handling, futility attempting to pull Quinlan’s hand away from his jacket, but he could do little to resist, only able to spit an angry insult at his assailant.

“Yo! Get off me, man! What the fuck you think you’re–” But the photo was already in Quinlan’s hand and he stepped back from Gus, releasing him as he unfolded it. He knew when this photo had been taken, because he had actually seen her  _that very day_. It was the day of Vasily and Dutch’s wedding, when her hair was still long and fancy. Her face plumper and unnecessarily painted to conceal her spots. Her outfit and shoes had been overly feminine. His eyes were wide with eagerness as he looked her over, taking in her image as he ran a gloved finger across her and then he looked carefully at the image as a whole.

Fet and Dutch to one side. Gus and Dawn to the other. Mr. Elizalde was the only one not facing the camera. His arm snuggly pulling her in and his head turned, his lips pressing against her temple. It could have just been a warm embrace, but something seemed overly  _intimate_  about it … but …  _why hide this_?

“What is this?” Quinlan cocked his head to the right before looking up to Gus, his eyes squinting sharply. “What … “ He swallowed hard. “What occurred while I was …  _away_?” Did Mr. Elizalde …  _No_. He wouldn’t have. He wasn’t  _that_  foolish. He wasn’t that … The guilt that spread across his  _friend’s_  face answered the question without a spoken word and this caused Quinlan’s heart to race. He paused, running his eyes over the image one more time before the following vulgarity escaped his lips, accompanied by a massive strigoi twitch. “ _Did … Did you_   ** _fuck_**   _her?_ ” 

> “ _Uh oh._ ” Vasily spoke from somewhere behind him …
> 
> “ _Can we talk about this later?_ ” Dutch’s voice melted away as Quinlan began to numb to everything around him. Everything except the guilt-riddled man who stood before him.
> 
> “ _Ah … hell …_ ” George’s voice was the last one he heard as everything around him faded into a senseless red rage.

“You were dead.” Gus attempted a frantic explanation, thrusting his palms out as the dhampir closed the distance between them instantly and took fistfuls of his jacket, pulling him face to face as he rattled loudly. “You were dead!”

## “[Fur!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%3Foe%3Dutf-8%26um%3D1%26ie%3DUTF-8%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dtw-ob%23en%2Fla%2FShe%2520is%2520mine%21%2520%2520Thief%21&t=MmI5NTIxZjkzMWM4MGJiNzk0Y2M0MzhiNTM1MmE3MzE0Njk4NzUyOCxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1)”

Mr. Quinlan could count on a single hand the number of times that he had lost his temper to the point of blinding rage, and there would still be fingers left. But just as he did in that apartment, when that soldier had overstepped his bounds and struck her, Quinlan lost sight of  _everything_  else as the full weight of the day, and all of its implication, came crashing down upon him.  _Everything_ , from the site of her blood, to what the Nazi had confessed to, to what the Master’s plan for her had always been, and finally, to what the Black King had told him about  _intent_  and  _death_  and …  _damnation_. The stress of it all came flooding out of Quinlan as he unloaded onto the mortal. 

> _His mind convulsed over the imagery on the photograph._

## “[Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”

As he struck the man, he cursed loudly, both Latin and English flowing freely from his sneering mouth. He felt hands pulling on him from behind, the Hacker and the Architect screamed for him to stop, but he wouldn’t stop …  _he couldn’t stop_. He brushed them off and he heard Vasily hit the ground hard and slide across it as Quinlan connected his forehead with Gus’ nose and the man’s head flew back against the concrete wall and his body crumpled. 

> _The man’s arm around her frame._

## “You think it wise to make a  _cuck_  …  ** _of me_**?!”

He helped the Boxer’s limp body stand again before he struck it  _again_  … and  _again_. He wouldn’t realize until later that Gus wasn’t even bothering to fight back, not even opting to  _try_  defend himself, though it would have made little difference and Quinlan slammed him back against the wall. 

> _Holding her close to him as if she was_   ** _his_**.

## “[Es stultior asino, plebes](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)!”

“Quinlan stop! HOLY SHIT. STOP!” Dutch was frantic, her voice riddled with tears while she screamed at the others. “ ** _He’s killing him_**! For fuck’s sake! Don’t just stand there!” 

> _HIS?!?_

##  _“Thief!”_

If he wished the Boxer dead yet, he already would have been. Quinlan was  _hurting_  him though, very much on purpose. Given his lack of control and increase of strength, the Boxer would likely not survive this barrage for much longer though, but Quinlan still couldn’t pull himself from the assault as each time he felt he might pull back, he saw Gus’ lips on her temple. 

> _His lips upon her temple, pressing against her skin._

## “[Mendax!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FLiar%21&t=Nzg4ZWJmNWM3YTBkMTdkOTMwYWViYTc4MzZjY2UwMDA2MDQwYTBkYixrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1)”

Even the mere  _thought_  of this possibility had sent him into a fit of childish rage in Heaven and now that it was …  _Ugh_. His vision began to cloud with a purple haze and the same colored sparks began to dance across his skin. His latest punch cracked two of the Boxer’s ribs, causing the man to whimper like a dog. 

> _Where else had his lips been? What else had his lips touched?!?_

“[Fur](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%3Foe%3Dutf-8%26um%3D1%26ie%3DUTF-8%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dtw-ob%23en%2Fla%2FShe%2520is%2520mine%21%2520%2520Thief%21&t=MmI5NTIxZjkzMWM4MGJiNzk0Y2M0MzhiNTM1MmE3MzE0Njk4NzUyOCxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1).” Quinlan’s mind snapped at that last thought. His leather-gloved fingers reached around Gus’ neck and the human’s eyes bulged as Quinlan squeezed slowly. A wicked smile crept over his lips as he whispered. “[Furantur quid mea? Et ego furantur aliquid ex vobis ut bene.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FSteal%2520what%2520is%2520mine%253F%2520Then%2520I%2520will%2520steal%2520something%2520from%2520you%2520as%2520well.&t=NjRiZDUwNDY1MzY2YzIwMzY2NzFkZjdlNTI3NWY5OWFhNDNlOWE5NSxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1)”

But he was now being pulled off, hoisted away from his intentions. Inhumanly strong hands gripped onto each of his biceps and peeled him off his prey as Gus gasped for breath, sliding down the wall onto his bottom. Quinlan could only think of a single person present who would be strong enough to do this.

“NO!!! Unhand me,  _King!_  You  _will_  regret this! I will  _make_  you regret this!” He growled, reaching out and kicking violently towards the downed human. As he was pushed back against the far wall, he was shocked to find it wasn’t in fact the  _Black King_  at all, but two others. The Bear Man and the Strigoi Nazi, each trying desperately with the full power of their inhuman strengths to pin him to the wall.

“Mr. Quinlan! Come on man! Get a hold of–” George tried to reason with him.

_Poor choice._

The dhampir sneered and hissed as he stepped forward, proving, even through their combined strength, they were no match for him. He grabbed the Nazi first and flung him violently across the room, directly into the metal storage rack. He was turning his attention back to George to do the same, but the brave was no longer holding him, instead he was placing a palm on Quinlan’s chest, directly over his heart, as the Onondagan whispered something gentle and pure and  _painfully familiar_  …

“ ** _Calm your fire._** ” Quinlan’s fire still raged, but as he stared back into the brave’s dark eyes, he found the man’s face reminiscent of the Princess Prophet’s. Quinlan paused. “ ** _Calm your fire_**.” George urged again. “He isn’t your enemy.” George’s eyes pleaded and Quinlan’s mouth fell agape. The emotions, still raw and painful, throbbed through his chest but he nodded once and George gave his chest a single pat. “You good?” Quinlan nodded once again, breathing deeply. “We should go?” Another single nod.

The dhampir’s head hung low as he stepped towards the exit, hesitating slightly be he returned to the center of the room and bent to retrieve the photo that had fallen during the fight. He looked at it again, ran his fingers across it and folded it, gently tucking it into his coat pocket.

“You were dead, man …” Gus spat blood out onto the ground as Vasily pulled him to his feet. “You were dead.  _You left us … you left_   ** _her_**   _…_ ”

Quinlan left everyone in the room without saying another word and the Brave followed quickly. Vasily helped Gus limp along and Thomas was already back on his feet, cracking his neck as he smoothed out his suit before he followed them all back outside to the vehicles. But Dutch just stood still, transfixed on Barqan, who had opted to cross his arms and lean up against the far wall when the violence first began.

“You were just gonna stand there, huh?” When she had called out for aid, it had been directly to Barqan. “The fucking  _Nazi_  stepped up, but you … you were just gonna stand there, weren’t you?”

“Oh yes.” The Black King sighed deeply as he made his way towards the exit, walking past her as he spoke. “I am not mad.”

“Not mad? How about just  _cowardly_  then?” She bit at him.

“Do not confuse pragmatism for cowardice, my dear.” He shrugged off her insult, shaking his head as he left. “When we first met, he threatened to  _take my head_  for merely touching her  ** _arm_**.”

 

* * *

 

Everything was  _too quiet_. As they drove into the small hangar, George’s heart raced with uncertainty. He could smell three people in the plane. Two men, likely the pilots, and a woman, likely the stewardess.

Putting his truck into park, he hit the glass of his back window to get Jacks’ attention and made a motion to his eyes. The Hawk Man shook his head.

_Nothing. He didn’t see anything._

Shit.

Gus was clearly hurting. He hadn’t spoken the entire ride, but just sat quietly holding his ribs with one hand and nursing the deep, bleeding cut on his lip with the other.

“Can you walk?” George asked as he heard the other two braves jump from the bed and the other people pile out of the lead car.

“Man, I been beat worse than this.” Gus tried to play off his state, but George doubted that last statement very much. Even if he had been a Boxer … that was brutal.

Quinlan was the first in the jet, still not uttering a word nor meeting any one’s gaze or even helping them retrieve the equipment from the car’s trunk.

“Has he said anything yet?” The brave prodded Dutch as he moved to help carry the equipment and Dutch shook her head.

“Not a bloody word.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Vasily seemed to always be the optimist. “Just a shock, ya know. Just needs to sink in. I been der.” The husband and wife shared an uncomfortable glance.

 _Maybe. Maybe not_. In any case, it made George nervous. He reached for the final pelican case, the one tucked into the very back and Vasily thrust a hand out to halt him.

“I got dat one. Gotta be careful.” The Ukrainian said with a wink and a scary grin, opting to grab the case himself. “Dutch ain’t the only one that brought  _toys_.”

 

* * *

 

“Lord?” The blue-skinned guard was behind him, but Shaitan didn’t turned to greet the Djinn. He remained stoic, his hands clasped behind him as he stared out of the viewing window, down into the vast  _Pit_  beneath them. “There was a–”

“I felt it.” He said, hoping to dismiss the need for the guard to explain the shaking felt throughout the entire realm.

“Even up here?” The guard pressed, confused by Shaitan’s calm manner. “What was it? What should we do?”

 _What indeed_. He didn’t know  _what_  it was, but it was obvious where it originated. He looked down into the hole and the numerous levels beneath them. The quake began in the fourth ring. While damage had occurred, nothing was beyond repair and everything seemed to vibrate in unison again. “Do nothing.”

“Lord?” The guard stammered.

Shaitan finally turned, his face remained calm. “We wait. Just as we were instructed.”

“Will you inform  _him_?”

“No. He should stay focused and …” Did he even believe his next words? “We have this under control.” The guard hovered, not accepting the command fully yet. “We have  _never_  been so close to  _freedom_. We will give him the time he needs …  _without interruption_  … whatever it takes.”

George cocked his ear to the right as he heard the approaching hum of a helicopter and vehicles.  _Lots of vehicles. Lots of men too._  It was a somewhat busy airport though, so he dismissed it, until he saw the flicker of emergency lights in the distance, approaching their slowly moving plane as it made its way to the main take-off lane before stopping completely.

Standing, he approached the cockpit, but Quinlan was already there, staring out the windshield onto the tarmac and the literal  _army_  of men before them, cluttering their path to escape with armed soldiers and dozens of camouflaged and armored vehicles. George could hear even more vehicles approaching from behind and the noisy helicopter was now visible, landing carefully in front of the plane.

_They were fucked._

“ ** _Holy crap._** ” George muttered.

“What is it?!” Vasily called out from the back. “What’s goin’ on?!”

“It’s …” George swallowed deeply before glancing back his concerned companions. “It’s the  _US Army_.”

Quinlan grumbled under his breath. “Elias …” He spoke to the main pilot, patting him on the shoulder. It seemed they were already familiar with one another. “[Quando pulisco un percorso, non esitare.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FWhen%2520I%2520clear%2520a%2520path%252C%2520do%2520not%2520hesitate.&t=NjY2ZDAyYjU4YjA2NmMxYjM3MzdkMDFiZTI1MDkwNGYxN2FkNDgzOSxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1)”

“Uhh …” The man nodded slowly. “Si signore.”

Pulling his hood over his head and drawing his blade, Quinlan moved towards the exit, tugging on the handle and beginning to push it to unlatch the door.

“Wait, wait. What are you doing?” George asked. “We can’t fight them–”

“I am not asking  _you_  to. I will take care of this. Everyone stay here.” Quinlan sneered, his demeanour still quite sour from his earlier  _episode_. As everyone around them unhooked their seatbelts, he commanded again, “Do  _not_  follow me. You will only get in my way.”

“Quinlan! Wait no!” Fet tried, foolishly calling out after his rash friend. “You can’t take on the  _Army_  with a  _fucking sword_!” But it was already too late. “Ah crap.”

The dhampir flung the door open fully, ignoring Fet and uttered one final thing before he leapt down onto the ground below. “Please keep the door open …”

“God … Damn.” Everyone watched with wide eyes and Two Paws shook his head in disbelief. “That guy’s got some balls.”

“ _Actually_  …” Dutch tilted her overly cocky head a little as she spoke. “ ** _He doesn’t._** ”

The words were fleeting and everyone was almost distracted, but George furrowed his brows slightly at the  _random_  and  _unnecessary_  comment.

He was about to ask for clarification, but Two Paws beat him to the punch. “Wait, what? What the  _hell_  are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?” Dutch asked, shrugging innocently. “You didn’t know that? Yeah, he’s a strigoi. They don’t have–”

Two Paws laughed out loud. “Trust  _us_.” He said, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he touched on the embarrassing subject. “ _He really does._ ”

“What?” Dutch stammered. She was still in disbelief. “Listen, so sorry to be the one to tell you this,  ** _boys_**. But, you don’t  _need_  balls to be–”

Wait, what exactly was the point of her comment again? Did she think it was funny? Or was this a  _social issue_  for her? George couldn’t help but furrow his brow even further as more disgust washed over his face. “Yeah. So sorry to be the one to tell  ** _you_**  this, but he’s got ‘em.  ** _We’ve all seen ‘em._** ” George swung around, pointing at himself and his animal brethren.

“Wait, you’ve actually  _seen_  them?” She questioned. Was she  ** _still_**  in disbelief? Did she doubt  _their_  very fucking eyes?! Jacks had the  _best_  eyes here and he was nodding at the whole conservation.

“Yeah. Apparently, you don’t reincarnate fully clothed.” Two Paws backed up George’s statement. “And more than just  _balls_  too. He’s  _hung_ , lady.”

“Uh stop! I don’t need ta know dat!” Vasily shook his head, pinching his eyes shut at the subject and what they were all talking about. “Wait …  _he really does_?” The Ukrainian seemed shocked by the disclosure, turning to his wife with frustration as he smacked her arm. “You told me he didn’t!”

“I …” She stammered. “I mean, Eph never said …  _that_  …” Embarrassment washed over her face. “Eph would have–”

“ ** _And even if he didn’t, he clearly he sees himself as a man._** ” For the first time since the Braves had met the new people, Jacks  _finally_  spoke, addressing the woman with utter disdain as he shook his head at her and her  _childish_  behavior. George’s childhood spoke so rarely, that George knew to listen whenever he did. “He might be going to face his death …  _for us … for the sake of the entire world … for the people he loves …_ and you think it’s important to use this opportunity to point out …  _behind his back_  …  _to everyone he knows_  …  _he’s not physically male?_ ”

“No, I mean …” Her voice cracked as she defended herself irrationally. “I mean, it’s not important. You don’t need  _balls_  to be  _brave_ , I was just–”

“If it’s  ** _not important_**  …” Jacks continued, his voice condescending as fuck. “Then why did you feel the need to point it out at all? Especially behind his back and  _especially_  in this moment?”

Dutch was speechless for the first time in her life and hatefulness of her words sank in. George could read the regret on her face and Jacks’ lips parted again. It seemed he wasn’t done berading her yet, but the  _Great Fire_  spoke, silencing George’s usually quiet friend.

“ _Children_.” Barqan spoke loudly, staring out the window as he watched Quinlan walk confidently across the tarmac. “ _Is now really the time for this?_ ”

It really wasn’t and everyone quietly watched out of their own little jet window as the helicopter door flung open and a clean cut man in a suit and tie stepped out. Dutch recognized him immediately and she groaned loudly.

“Ah fuck us.”

“Well. Just to clear the air …” Thomas smiled, directing his words to the Hacker. “Since it is  _that important_  to you, Mrs. Fet.  ** _I do not have any_**.”

 

* * *

 

[Immortal Battle - Joseph William Morgan](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1wUhrgMjGS8bH36HMElylK&t=ZjlmMzU3YWQ4ZWVmMDY3YjMzNjEzMDQzZTllNzM2NzM5NWNlNjZjMSxrenVzemY5Rg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169360747443%2Fchapter-113-sacrifice&m=1)

Quinlan pushed the bickering of the  _humans_  in the plane from his mind as he approached the line of vehicles that blocked their exit. His exquisitely beautiful, gifted sword tight in his grip.

The familiar  _agent_  erupted from the helicopter. This was the very same man that he had seen interrogating Dutch many times on the army base when she was arrested. Stepping down and walking over to the soldiers who fronted the barricade. The man grabbed a megaphone that was offered to him and he spoke through the device, which increased the volume of his voice, though Quinlan didn’t need it. He would have heard the man  _whisper_  from even this distance.

“DUTCH VELDERS! This is the US Government. We’re going to need you to step out of the plane with your hands up. And you! Put the …” There was a discernible pause and Quinlan grinned. “ _SWORD_  … on the ground and put your hands up.”

He regretted not killing this man on the base. But then again, he regretted  _so very many_  things right now, and sadly for those who stood between him and  _his destination_ , between him and  _his love_ , he was about to take the frustration of all that  _regret_  out on  _all of them … and their very souls, if need be_.

“Take your men and go now!” Quinlan bellowed to them. “Leave. I will …”  _Begrudgingly_. “… permit you this  _one opportunity_  to  ** _exist_**.” The dhampir had covered half of the distance between them and he made no motion to slow down, though in all honesty, he could cross the distance in less than a second if he so chose.

It was clear they didn’t want to  _kill_  him. Even on the base, they wanted to take him  _alive_  and though he approached them without hesitation, in their eyes, he only held a sword against their vast  _armoury_  and they still felt like they held all the power. They had  _no idea_  what was coming for them.

“I repeat!” The stupid man in the suit yelled into his machinery. “PUT THE SWORD DOWN!”

_Fucking plebeian._

Quinlan had only felt  _this type_  of rage  _thrice_  before in his life.

The first, he had burned Rome and thousands of innocent lives paid the price.

The second, he had thought his  _poet_  was lost and he had intentionally, and enthusiastically, disemboweled a man.

The third, he had seen his dragonfly eyes on the face of the man who  _manipulated_  and  _used_  him.

 _And now, the fourth._  He discarded Barqan’s warning about sending a soul to  _Heaven_ or to  _Hell_  and his anger won over any resignation pertaining to what  _his blade might do their mortal souls_.

He was done playing. He was done delaying. He was done  _regretting_. In fact, he was even done  _thinking_  right now. All he could do was  _feel_  and Quinlan tilted his head to the right, welcoming the ensuing carnage, welcoming the  _release_  of his anger.

“ ** _So be it._** ”

  



	90. Art - Foreshadowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made something for inspiration. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do! 
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ

 

_[Mr. Quinlan](https://5thinvictus.tumblr.com/post/169386695207/5thinvictus-mr-quinlan) _


	91. Fanart - Insatiable

## By the incredible [@alexologyart](http://alexologyart.tumblr.com/post/169546002715)

**INSATIABLE | Quintus and Dawn, from the fanfic “An Insatiable Ache” by the incredible[@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA)**

> _“Why do you look at me like that?”_
> 
> _“Look at you like what?”_   
> 
> _“Like you are… Starving.”_
> 
> _Should he bother to respond? The answer was obvious, was it not? It was because he was starving. He had been hungering for her for so long._


	92. 11.4 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this out. This update is MUCH longer than usual ones and action is always a challenge. Plus, there are a lot of balls in the air right now.
> 
> I am rating this update as: **EPIC**
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ

**[Firework - Kina Grannis](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2haZiTgnuhR6zOKqSc3s8N&t=MWNkZmRjZTBlMTgwZWFiZjY5YTc3OTdmYTQ4ZWVmZjAxNDc3NDgzYSxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Do you ever feel like a plastic bag_
> 
> _Drifting through the wind_
> 
> _Wanting to start again_
> 
> _Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin_
> 
> _Like a house of cards_
> 
> _One blow from caving in_
> 
> _Do you ever feel already buried deep_
> 
> _Six feet under scream_
> 
> _But no one seems to hear a thing_

“I’ll be fine. Really. It was just a nosebleed. And I don’t think there’s gonna be another explosion.” Explosion? At least that’s what the news had claimed. Some natural gas line leak on the westside? But … that definitely hadn’t felt like just  _an explosion_.

“I’d just rather see you to your door.” He was fairly pushy, but since he had  _finally_ relented on taking her to urgent care, she eventually nodded. What would it hurt really? “Humour me?”

“I’m sorry.” She tried to explain away her reluctance. “I just won’t make very good company right now.” She tried to assure him at the building entrance. She wasn’t being dishonest. She felt  _terrible_. Not only did her head throb, but she just felt in  ** _an overly sour mood_**.

They approached her tall building and he kept a very close distance as they strolled. He seemed to be out of topics to rattle on about and now they just enjoyed the  _cool night breeze_  in silence as it blew across their path. When she stopped in front of the luxury condo building, his eyebrow went high. “ _This?_  This is where you live?” He was clearly impressed. “What did you say you did again?”

“I’m in between jobs right now.” She grinned at his shock. “It’s actually pretty affordable.”

She waved the keycard over the reader and reached for the handle, but he sprung into gentlemanly action as he opened the door for her and waved her in enthusiastically. “After you.” Through the main lobby, which was unmanned at night. Through the mailbox room and to the elevator door. She always glanced at the stairwell entrance. Each time she passed it, she considered  _walking_  up the stairs. She urged herself with encouragements of ‘ ** _cardio_** ’ each time, but she would always pass it. She didn’t like thinking about  _that stairwell_.

He waited patiently at the elevator as she activated the panel with the keycard in her wallet. Then another wave of the card on the inside that triggered the twenty seventh floor automatically. As the elevator glid upwards, he leaned against the far wall, giving her as much space as possible and folding his arms as he gazed upon her.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” He asked blankly. “ _I got the feeling you were bored._ ”

This was definitely something she enjoyed about him. He was not one for  _meandering and unnecessary small talk_  to appease social politeness. “I did.” She  _actually_  did. It was good to get out and interact with  _someone_. It was refreshing. He was  _real_  … in a way.

“Yeah?” His head cocked to the right and she knew he was doubting her words. “I know I can come across  _rather_  strongly at times.” Awkward silence. Was it her turn to say something? Should she assure him again? Should she  _not_  assure him? Shit. She didn’t want to lead him on. Or did she want to lead him on? Was she ready for this or was she just setting them both up for disappointment? “I’ll admit … I am usually  _very good_  at reading people, but …”

“What were you expecting?” She asked, just as bluntly as he had. “You’re kinda making me feel like I didn’t live up to your expectations.”

“Quite the contrary.” He smiled, flashing a genuine smile, full of perfectly white and straight teeth. He had a nice smile and she stared at his bearded face. She didn’t care for facial hair normally, but it worked for him. “I am very much enjoying the challenge.”

“Challenge?” She scoffed, finding the statement insulting. Unsure of what that implication was, she scrunched her face to express her distaste of his words. “You think I’m a game?  _You think_   ** _this_**   _is a game_?”

“No. You are most definitely not a game to me.” Ron stepped forward from the wall.  _Uh oh_. She glanced at the location of the elevator. Almost there.  _Almost there_. “But you  _are_  an enigma. And I find  _very few things_  in this world  _intriguing_.”

He looked as if he might step towards her again and the elevator dinged, saving her from his advance. The doors opened slowly and she grinned as she stepped out, escaping his pleasant gaze.

“An enigma? Really?” She didn’t wait for him, but he quickly followed behind her as they walked the long straight hallway, lined on either side with condo doors. “I’m not that complicated actually.”

“No?” His tone was overly playful now and she wondered if he was expecting to be let into her apartment. She gave him no indication that that was even a possibility, but her heart suddenly lurched at the thought of having to  _reject_  him outright.

“No. I’m pretty  _boring_  really.”

He looked around the fancy hallway and snorted a small laugh. “So you keep saying, yet I find you more mysterious with each encounter.”

She led the way to the very end of the long hall, past the condo next to hers, the “For Sale” sign  _still_  on the door and stood in front of the end unit, numbered 2719.  _At least it was a prime_. She took a deep breath as she fished actual keys out of her pocket, looking up at him once they were in her grip. “Listen, I don’t wanna drag you along, Ron.”

“Drag me along?  _This_  …” He pointed his index finger between them. “Is hardly a  _chore_. Even if nothing comes of it, I do enjoy your company and your friendship.” His smile was very reassuring. “I find it …” Something seemed to bother him and his brows pinched as he looked off distantly for a moment. The concern melted quickly and then his smile returned as he looked at her again. “ _Refreshing_.”

_Real._

“It’s just … ” She broke his eye contact and fiddled with her keys. “I recently went through a  _really rough break-up_.”

“Yeah. I definitely already got that impression.”

“You did?” Wait. He did? Was she that obvious? “Really?”

“I know a broken heart when I see one.” He confessed as he reached out for her free hand and she let him take it. “ _But not all of us are assholes._ ”

“No. No. No.” She shook her head furiously as his implication. “He wasn’t an asshole …” She swallowed hard. “He was a  _good guy_  actually. I just … just wasn’t  _enough_.”

“ **I find that hard to believe.** ” His eyes were intense as he refused her excuse. “And,  _Good guys_  don’t make you feel like  _this_.”

“But he was …”  _a good guy?_  She fought the torment of it all. “He …  _uh_  … he …” Looking down, he smile faded as her voice cracked slightly. She hadn’t actually voiced it yet and as she looked up into his nearly-black eyes, she took a deep breath and  _finally_  said it out loud. “ _He decided to go back to his ex._ ”

“Oh.” He lowered his head. His tone was understanding. “Were there kids involved?”

“There was a  _daughter_.” She nodded.

“ _I’m sorry then._ ” His sympathy seemed genuine and there was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Listen. I’m just trying to be straightforward with you. I don’t think I’m in the right place to give  _you_  the attention I’m sure you’re worthy of,  _Mister Rahim_.” Damn. That was a good line. She would have  _never_  thought of that in the spur of the moment  _before_. She had been shy and embarrassing and clumsy and …  _unattractive._

“It’s really fine. I can do  _friendship_ , if that’s all you want from me.” He gave a small wink as he brought her hand up towards his mouth. “And I can also do  _patient_ , almost as well as I can do  _persistent_.” His lips touched her knuckle gently and he gave a small bow. “G’night.”

He was walking away and she watched, not yet unlocking her own door. Halfway down the hallway, he turned and flashed her one last smile. “For what it’s worth … all my exes  _hate_  me.” He chuckled lowly as she shook her head at his joke. “See you in class tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

**[Hey Man, Nice Shot (Jack Trammel Mix) - Joseph William Morgan](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2LYRnfoq87dKibXnxlGE64&t=MDA4NmY4MWE0MmJhOGVlNjI1ZjcyMGJlNDA2ZWU3YWZiYTdiY2MzZixURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Now that the smoke’s gone_
> 
> _And the air is all clear_
> 
> _Those who were right there_
> 
> _Got a new kind of fear_

“ ** _So be it._** ”

Mr. Quinlan was a demigod, in  _every_  sense of  _that_  word. A unique hybrid being, born from human, Djinn,  _and_  Hayyoth. Descended from both royal and common bloodlines, he was  _undefeatable_. He was  _unconquerable_. He was  _the Invictus_. Yet, even as such, he was just one and there were hundreds surrounding them now. He was vastly outnumbered and even a human, in all their incredible power, strength, and size, can do little against a mass of swarming  _bees_.

Though he had no doubts he could cut through them like paper, dodge their bullets, even flee the area completely unscathed, his friends and their escape vehicle would not be so lucky if he was not careful. He would need to draw their fire safely away from the plane, lest they be stranded in Philadelphia and he would not be able to reach  _his destination_  … in time …

But in the heat of his anger, in the midst of his pain and turmoil, Quinlan reached clarity. He was no fool and he understood what the next required move would be. They might have had the numbers, but  _no swarm can function without their queen_ , just as no snake can constrict without its  _head_  and he smirked as he continued to walk confidently towards the group of men before him.

The  _agent_  behind the obnoxious megaphone was about to have a  _very bad day_.

 

* * *

 

Uriel took as deep a breath as possible before he took flight, even as his captain called out for him to stop from below. “It is madness!” His angel underling screamed, but Uriel couldn’t just wait any longer.

His flight arched high into the sky and he navigated through the floating debris around the fallen structure that had once been the citadel. As he neared his warring brothers, he heard them speaking, though the tone from Gabriel alone assured him that they were still  _very much_  in disagreement over whatever  _this_  was.

He paused, hovering quietly, waiting for an opportune moment to disrupt them. A break in their strikes, each Hayyoth took several steps away from each other and repositioned to attack again and Uriel darted, shooting down between them like a missile.

He wasn’t sure what to expect and his hands came up, holding a palm out to each of them as he spoke, never tearing his eyes from the ground. “Please. Explain this to me.”

“Uriel.” Raphael sighed dramatically. “ _This doesn’t concern you_. Leave us to–”

“I am placing Raphael under arrest.” Gabriel interrupted quickly, pointing an accusatory finger towards his  _Other_.

Uriel blinked, looking up and meeting the taller angel’s gaze. “Arrest? With what charge?”

“Treason against the  _Kingdom_.”

“But …” Uriel was clearly uncomfortable with even the thought of it. “ _Treason_  how? What has occurred? What has he done?”

Raphael rolled his head in annoyance. “Leave  _Rael_  and  _I_  to discuss this, Uriel.  _Now._ ”

“He has aided in the escape of  _The First_. He has allowed a soul to return to Earth. He has been working to incite a rebellion. He has–”

“Stop.” Raphael spat at him. “Stop this. Have you not heard  _anything_  I have said?”

“Is it …” Uriel’s gaze moved to Raphael’s and his brows pinched fiercely as he shook his head in denial. “ _Is this true, Raphael?_ ”

“Do you deny it?” Gabriel smirked. “Prove yourself a  _liar_  to me,  _Phael_. Do it. Deny it, right in front of me.  _Prove me right_. Deny that you have  _chosen to fall_ , brother.  ** _Tell him I lie._** ”

Uriel felt a great heaviness weighing on his chest as he could read Raphael’s face clearly. It was not a lie. None of it. “ ** _Raphael_**?”

“I apologize,  _my little brother_ , but as I have already stated …” Raphael’s mouth curled up in a vicious sneer as purple light exploded over the area, overpowering Uriel’s vision entirely before it all went to black. “ _I require a quiet moment alone with my Other._ ”

Uriel opened his eyes and pulled himself up to a sitting position on the ground. His hand came to his head, rubbing his temple and his sight slowly focused. He was still in the same location he had been before, but he was now alone but he heard the fight continuing a great distance in the vast open space above him. Raphael had taken the argument back to the sky.

 _“Shit._ ”

 

* * *

 

**[Freya - Epic North](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F355C7DXrgETohoIRsJUQ9p&t=YWYwMTNjNjRhNjAwYjcxNTExOWE2YzA3Y2Y3N2MzNTQwYzdiZWQ5OSxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Put the sword down!” The agent barked at him again through the obnoxiously loud device, but Quinlan continued to advanced. “I’m not gonna ask again!” The man leaned his head away from the megaphone and spoke into a hand-held radio. “ _Take him out. Lethal force approved._ ”

A crack of distant and powerful gunfire broke the silence and Quinlan grinned at the predictability and cowardice in the use of a sniper. Its distance was considerable and the dhampir had over a full  _second_  to feel the shift of the wind and pinpoint the direction of the incoming projectile aimed directly towards his head.

Flicking the sword up, his plan had been to deflect it, but as the edge of the blade sliced into the tip of the bullet, it cut the metal object into two clean halves, melting the edges and humming slightly as it did. All momentum seemed to be absorbed by the weapon and the two fragmented pieces simply felt to the ground on either side of him. His sword now continuously vibrated softly in his hands.

That was …  _unexpected_. He paused for a moment and stared at the bullet’s pieces as voices whispered behind him. Turning back to face the men, he could hear their muscles tensing.  

> “ _Did he just … cut the bullet in half?_ ”
> 
> “ _What the hell was that?_ ”
> 
> “ _Shit._ ”

“Hold your fire!” The Agent, as one of the men called him, read the concern burning across the minds of his infantry. He screamed the command as the several dozen men standing in front of him began to react to Quinlan continuing this path towards them again. “HOLD YOUR FIRE! I want Velders ALIVE!”

Quinlan’s pace shifted from a brisk stroll to a semi-jog and as his speed quickened, and he began to  _sprint_  the second half of the distance to his singular target and time slowed all around him. His lingering grin only grew further as he saw, from the very corner of his eyes, a low, rolling, thick, and dark smoke had begin to dance around him, obfuscating  _their_  advance, over taking him as he darted forward with inhuman speed. 

It seemed the  _Djinn King_  had decided to go against Quinlan’s command to stay in the plane and was now everywhere, all around him, strategically destroying the visibility of the soldiers and clouding the  _entire_  area.

The men seemed as if they might accept the order, until a bellowing chuckle rumbled through the dense smoke and the man furthest to the right squeezed his trigger in response. Quinlan diverted his path from the agent, deciding to focus on this rash individual first.

“I SAID HOLD YOUR FIRE–” The suit was desperate for control over the crumbling situation as the other men followed their rash companion’s lead and muzzle flashes danced across the front line, spraying more bullet’s in Quinlan’s direction. “GOD DAMMIT! I SAID HOLD YOUR FIRE!” The agent bellowed in slow motion as the dhampir started to cut the bullets out of the air before him. Each projectile cut from its path caused the blade to vibrate further and it started to wobble in his grip.

He would not be able to deflect them all and he felt he might have put the plane at great risk should a stray bullet cut through the smoke, but the air began to heat considerably and the smoke began to consolidate.

He was already well aware that the  _Djinn_  could become smoke, but he’d never seen anything else worth merit from the King. But as the temperature of the air steadily rose, Quinlan suspected the Marid was capable of far more than he had let on.

And for the first time since he had met the being, he heard  _Barqan’s_  voice in his  _mind_. 

> _Step aside, Prince. Let the bullets come to me. Your attention is better served elsewhere._

At first, he hesitated in complying but as the blade was becoming more difficult to hold with each bullet he plucked from the air, he stepped to the side, dodging the rest, turning to face the smoke and watching in curious silence as it pulled itself back towards the plane and back together into a human form …

 _Human_?

The  _Marid_ , even when his eyes had burned a furious and deep crimson, had always looked entirely human, but as Quinlan gazed upon the smoke taking shape, he realized that had never been [Barqan Abu al-‘Adja'yb](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FBarqan&t=MTYwYTQzZTk0Y2I3ODYyMmYxYzg1ZTc5ODVmNWMyZjdmNTFiYjAyMCxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) of the Fires  _true form_. The Djinn had been  _nearly_  the same height as the dhampir before, but now he was now easily more than a foot taller.

His skin was  _entirely_  black and no longer looked like flesh, but instead resembled smooth and polished granite. It seemed completely flawless, save for the glyphs grooved into it and within each crevice burned a  _blue_  glow. This angelic etching ran across the surface of his visible skin.

His hair was long and black. He now bore a large pair of horns that protruded from his skull on either side of his temples. The [horns](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.shutterstock.com%2Fz%2Fstock-photo-a-frontal-portrait-of-a-goat-with-horns-against-a-green-background-2584268.jpg&t=ZWY5MWE2MDcyNTA2YzUwYzc2NTBlM2U3MjZhOTQ5YmM0MzU5N2YzNCxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1), brass in appearance, were thick and curved, swooping down from the full length of his face and stretching down well below his jawline in a beautiful curl. They were reminiscent of [Ovis Orientalis](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMouflon&t=NGI2OTQ1NTI1ZTZiMmM0Mjg0MzI2NmI0YTE1MmY2MjVkMmZjZDc1MSxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1), a wild ram Quinlan had seen in the Arabian desert.  _How fitting._

Instead of just the iris becoming crimson, now the entirety of his eyes were solid crimson and his mouth was full of sharp teeth, though the bottom set of canines were the largest and protruded up and out of his mouth several inches as they pressed against his upper lip.

The air around Barqan blurred as if he were the center of a mirage. His incredible heat smashed against the pockets of cooler air and everything danced, swirling together, as if it was the dangerously hot area between a candle wick and its flame.

Quinlan hadn’t even noticed yet that the Marid’s legs and feet were now hooked and hooved until the Djinn brayed loudly, stomping the ground as the barrage of bullets were finally within the range of his incredible heat. The ground shook marvelously as flames danced up in the space around him and the bullets slowed in their velocity, melting into the air and evaporating in his elemental fire.  

> _Allow me to be the distraction. I will draw their_  * ** _chuckle*_**   _fire._

“ _What … in … the … shit … is … that … thing …_ ” The man next to the agent gasp under his breath. His men whispered to each other in unison. Some turning to others. Some uttering a small prayer. There were a few calls that Barqan was a  _demon_ , but most settled on him being a  _devil_. From his appearance alone, Quinlan could understand that mis-assumption.

“You fools!” Barqan heard their whispers. He relished in their concerns and he basked in their growing fear. “You think me a  _mere devil_?!” Barqan chuckled madly, bellowing as his voice vibrated the air with powerful fury. “I am [Barqan Abu al-‘Adja'yb](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FBarqan&t=MTYwYTQzZTk0Y2I3ODYyMmYxYzg1ZTc5ODVmNWMyZjdmNTFiYjAyMCxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1). Great Fire. Two Thunders. Black King of Wednesday. Last of the Seven Kings.  _ **I am an elemental**_.” The gunfire sprayed towards him and he melted the bullets again, stamping the ground just as before and then he rocked forward onto all fours, flicking his head back and forth like an animal before he began to charge towards the cohort of men forming on the other side of the plane to block them in. “ ** _I … AM … FIRE!_** ”

There was no longer any  _central_  control of the situation as all hell broke loose and the Djinn plowed into the first armoured vehicle horns first, flipping it over as the soldiers scrambled. The  _Marid_  was affording him the distraction he needed and as  _he took his vorpal sword_  to the weapons of the infantry. The power of his blade liquefying the metal as he began to move down the line of shooters, and he began struggling to control the vibrating force as he cut their guns in half lengthwise.

More snipers began to fire in the far distance.

 

* * *

 

Uriel touched the ground, placing his palm against it and closed his eyes tightly before cocking his head to the right as he  _felt_  everything around him. Yes. He was right. The ground was rumbling even though his Hayyoth siblings fought in the air  _above_  him but it was  _nearly_  undetectable. If he hadn’t been laying across it, he might have missed it.

The  _Elohim_ , the  _Second Brood_ , unlike their Hayyoth formers, while capable of  _sprinting_ , were only capable of minimal time manipulation. They lacked the elders’ divinity to control it as fundamentally. However Uriel, better than all of the  _lesser brood_ in every single way, was far more capable than any of the other six  _Elohim_. He closed his eyes and started to count the timing between each tiny little quake.

Once he was certain he had the cycle down he began to sprint through each one as he felt himself begin to realign with  _true and actual time_ , instead of what was being  _perceived_. He found the experience  _unpleasant_  to say the least and he turned back towards the sky, focusing his black eyes towards his brothers in the distance. As a figure broke through a cloud and another pursued, Uriel  _saw_  it clearly. Them, as well as everything around him, was indeed,  _jittering in movement_.

## Son of a bitch.

They moved  _slowly_  and then their pace quickened to faster flow before it painfully slowed again, and the rumble would begin again. The pattern would repeat, like a heartbeat.

 _Time was … pulsating_. He only knew of  _two beings in all of creation_  capable of such a feet and the last time he had felt  _this_  was when they had been fighting each other.

 _“Son of a bitch …”_  Uriel muttered out loud.

He stood and then reeled, stumbling as he tried to stabilize himself. The Bene Elohim Captain was already there, landing beside him as he lent a hand to Uriel.

“Sir, what happened?”

 _What? No. Not what._   ** _Who._**   _It was Raphael. Raphael happened. He wouldn’t be trying that again._

“Do you feel that, Captain?” Uriel ignored the prod, opting to focus on what was now far  _more_  concerning to him than his brothers’ ensuing spat.

“Sir?”

“Do you feel the shaking, Captain?” He qualified his question, slowly and firmly.

“No, sir.” The angel shook his head. “What shaking?”

“ _Son of a bitch._ ” Uriel repeated and spread his wings to fly.

His companion reached out. “Sir … Wait! I don’t think  _they_  will listen to you!”

“No. They won’t.” Uriel kept the disclosure Gabriel had made to  _himself_. He needed  _answers_  first. “Don’t worry. I won’t be trying that again,  _Captain_.”

“Then where? Sir, what do we do?!”

“Gather my  _brood_ , the other  _six Elohim_.” Uriel bit his lip as he considered their options. “Gather the  _Generals_.  ** _Gather the Seraphim_**.”

“Gather them? Gather them  _where_ , sir? The Horn has not been blown.” The Captain was confounded, his voice cracking as he asked. “Who do you wish to battle? Not … not the …  _Hayyoth_.”

“No,  ** _of course not_**!” Uriel dismissed the ridiculous statement.  _He was far from suicidal._  “To the gate, Captain. Gather  _everyone_  at the Gate.”

“How sir?  _The Nexus is_ –”

Uriel turned, shaking his head in disbelief at the Captain. “You  _still_  have a MOUTH, Captain.”

“But, sir, the Horn as not been blown! What is-”

“ ** _Nexus_**   _or not._   ** _Hayyoth_**   _or not._   ** _Horn_**   _or not. I am still the_   ** _Left Hand of God_** ,  _Captain._ Do as I command.” Uriel turned to take flight, beginning to pulsate his own  _time sprinting_  again, keeping perfect rhythm and pausing a moment to see if he could discern the curvature of the pattern as everything slowed and sped, as  _time_  ebbed and flowed. He needed to find the epicenter of the  _time quakes_.

“Sir! Please! What is going on!?” Captain’s desperation was clear, his voice shaking with uncertainty.

“ _That’s exactly what I’m going to find out._ ” Uriel had the general direction and he took flight, following the spokes of fluctuating time back to the center of its expanding circles, to the center of the  _Wheel_.

 

* * *

 

**[Sail - Unlimited Gravity Remix - AWOLNATION](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7qAWdfgvuDJQlhjppYtAfA&t=ZmZlNjk5ZTQ4OGEyZGM5MDM3NWU1NzljNTkwZjkzNzI5NTgxZDg1MixURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _This is how I show my love_
> 
> _I made it in my mind because_
> 
> _I blame it on my ADD baby_

Barqan was incredible, but they were were still vastly outnumbered. So, he focused his full attention on clearing the runway, cutting the weapons in half and flinging the men savagely out of his way, giving little regard to the damage the force of the torque or eventual landing might do on their mortal frames. Quinlan worked with vicious precision, cutting through the men, until heard his main target behind the vehicle before him.

He could  _crush_  the man and his armed companion by flipping the car over onto them, but that would  _entirely_  defeat his purpose. Besides, they needed the vehicle  _off_  the tarmac. The dhampir bent and gripped the bottom part of the armoured car’s frame and stood, combining his leg and arms muscles in unison to send the vehicle flipping out of his way with several perfect lateral cartwheels. Still in his crouched position, the  _Agent_  spun around and stared at Quinlan’s boots for a moment before his head tilted slowly up, meeting his dhampiric eyes with mouth agape. Quinlan grinned marvelously.

Bending forward, he reached to grab the man’s shirt, but rather than simply comply, the agent snapped into action, dropping the radio he had been holding against his mouth in his left hand and raising the pistol he gripped in his right. Quinlan had been incredibly careful to use the sword only on metal until now and he flicked the blade towards the movement with one long swipe and the edge sung with smoke and sizzle as it burned first through the firearm in his right hand, rendering it useless, _and_  then continuing the elegant stroke as he cut through the man’s _other_ wrist, melting the flesh and bone and completely cauterizing the wound on either side as it severed his hand.

The hand, with the radio still firmly in its grip, landed on the asphalt and  _Johnson_ grabbed at his new stump as he fell forward to his knees, dropping the walkie talkie. Quinlan was actually impressed the man hadn’t screamed and his reaction of pure shock, rather than of agony, made the dhampir wonder if the blade cut so hot that it had actually severed the nerve endings before they could even fire.

This time, he succeeded in grabbing the man’s shirt and pulled him to his feet to face to dhampir fully.

“Greetings,  _Agent Johnson_.” He pulled him within inches of his face, so the man could see his visage clearly under the conspicuous hood. Specifically, so the man could see  _his eyes_. “I do not believe we have  _ever_  been  _properly introduced_.”

“ _It’s … actually …_ ” The man gulped and stammered, his face full of utter horror. “ _Smith._ ” That hadn’t been the name he used on the Army base a year earlier, but Quinlan expected as much.

“Oh come now. We both know your real name is  _neither_  of those. You are like  _me._  You are a  _ghost_.” Quinlan took a deep breath of him to further the intimidation. He wondered how close to actual  _strigoi_  this  _suit_  had come to during the war a year earlier. Scarless, repugnant, and  _quivering_  in the dhampir’s grip, Quinlan showed his  _tainted_  teeth to the agent, sneering as he spoke. “Well,  _figuratively_  a ghost, that is. I do wonder though …” His eyes darted down to the man’s neck as he tilted his head to the right playfully. “How much you might fear becoming a  _literal one_?”

The shot was immediate and Quinlan even heard it coming. He heard the private’s heart racing as he assaulted the agent. He heard the private’s finger tightening on the firearm and he most definitely heard the private stand and aim at his head, less than six inches away.

He could have killed the boy. He could have cut his hand off as well. Hell, he could have even just dodged the bullet, but he wished to make a point. And he wished to make it brutally. Sidestepping, he ducked down behind the agent, pulling the man’s back to his chest firmly as he brought the blade up to rest against his jugular and then, he moved the man an  _inch_  to the right. As the bullet penetrated the agent’s shoulder, this time, the  _quivering man_  did scream.

“ _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ ” The private’s hand trembled, his barrel pointed towards Quinlan’s head, now safely behind his human shield. He peeked around at the man and grinned.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” Johnson/Smith gasped desperately to the private, but the soldier remained aimed towards his head. “HOLD YOUR FIRE, GOD DAMMIT!”

“If you attempt that again, I assure you …” Quinlan promised playfully. “You  _will_  miss …  ** _again_**.” He had been merciless up until this point but the horror on the private’s face caused him pause and Quinlan relented, making a  _rare_  offer as the tears ran down the boy’s cheek. “Go now.” He flicked his head to the right. “ ** _Run, child._**   _Demons are afoot here_.” The boy doubted. “ _Do you really wish to join me in_   ** _Hell_**?”

The boy ran and Quinlan spun his prisoner to face him again. The man still clung his new stump to his chest as he trembled from shock.

“ _Now … where were we, ghost?_ ”

“Fuck you.” The agent coughed, trying to feign a laugh. “That’s where we were. FUCK YOU.”

Quinlan’s brows furrowed slightly. “Hmmm. I suppose I am flattered? Unfortunately …” He looked the man up and down before smirking. “You are  _not_  my type.  _I prefer women_.” The dhampir swooped to retrieve the radio and thrust it towards the man. “Call off your snipers, unless you’d like  _every single bullet_  they send towards us to wind up with the last?” His shoulder bled, but he would certainly live. Quinlan knew precisely where to lodge the bullet to cause the least damage, but the most pain.

Just as the words escaped his lips, he detected a low rumbling through the ground and he turned to glance in the direction of the noise, emanating from behind the not-to-distance grassy hill and then it began to peek over the curved mound.

It? No,  _them_. At least five from the sound of it. He saw the barrel first and then the rest of the gloriously armoured tank crept into full view, devouring the perimeter fence with its massive treads. Then they all began to line the hill and several more crawled over.

The radio, still snuggly in the agent’s severed hand, crackled:  

> _**Abrams in range. Permission to engage Echo Tango? Over.** _

“Where were we?”  _Smith/Johnson_  laughed, repeating Quinlan’s original question to him. “I know where  _you_  are right now.  _You are about to be fucked._ ”

 _Damnation._  He had a great affection for those vehicles and he would  **hate**  to have to destroy such wonderful creations.

“Instruct your snipers to stand down, unless you would like to be riddled  _more_  with your own bullets.” Quinlan asked him again, thrusting the walkie into his face as he gripped the man’s shoulder and squeezed mercilessly on the wound and for the second time, the  _agent_  screamed. “Now.”

The agent looked down at the radio and Quinlan used the fingers on his severed hand to push the button down and the man spoke into the microphone as he stared directly into the dhampir’s cold eyes. “ ** _Breach_**.”

_Hmmmm._

Quinlan tilted his head in minor confusion.  _Breach?_  Breach what exactly? But obviously, there was only  _one_  thing for them to  _breach_  and he turned back towards the plane. Barqan was rampaging through a squadron heading towards them from the other side, towards the main entrance of the airport and was distracted from noticing the small group of black-clad men sneaking along beneath the plane’s belly, climbing up a rope to the baggage compartment which they had already opened per the agent’s command.

Five men total. Well armed and clearly  _well trained_. From the look of their uniforms, Quinlan assumed they were S.W.A.T., SEALs, or Spec Ops of some kind. Some form of modern  _Centurion_ , but it really mattered not and he began to chuckle lowly as he turned to face the  _agent_  again, who’s own amusement was fading as the dhampir laughed. His faith, and  _hope_ , in the capabilities of those he left within the fuselage did not waver even an inch.

“ _Heh._   ** _So foolish_**.” Quinlan leaned down to the somewhat shorter man and grinned madly. “ _Do you really think there are just_   ** _men_**   _in that plane? Sadly … you’ve sent them to the slaughter … but I wonder, have you really not realized it yet?_   ** _You’ve all come to the slaughter_**.”

 

* * *

 

Obviously, they heard them coming. Both Two Paws and Thomas noticing at nearly the same instant. George pointed to the door and the  _strigoi_  nodded, standing on one side of it as the wolf man stood on the other. 

“ _Hide_. Stay clear from the windows.” He gave the command to the  _regular humans_ , including the two pilots and stewardess, and they all crouched down in the seats near the back, but Fet couldn’t help himself as he peeked over the back of the chair with nervous curiosity.

They were  _damn_  quiet, but George could still hear them in the belly of the plane, and he listened, following their movements below, unsure where they might come through. When the smoke canister was launched from outside, he knew it was time. The little metal canister hit the plane’s carpet and bounced several times before smoke plumed out from its interior.

Jacks was on it in an instant, kicking it hard and sending it flying back out of the plane as the ground opened up to the side of George and a man sprung up through a latch hidden under the carpet. George moved with inhuman strength and speed, gripping the soldier’s helmet and  _helping him_  the rest of the way up, by flinging him savagely into the air and the man hit the ceiling hard before falling back down over and halfway into the hole, blocking his teammates’ entrance, but a gunshot sounded from the hole and George felt something penetrate his shoulder.

_Fuck._

He’d never been shot before, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as he expected and as he glanced at the wound, he smiled at the massive  _dart_  lodged in his flesh. He pulled it free, letting it fall to the ground as his head danced for a second.

_Did they seriously just try to tranq him? HIM?!_

“ _Are you kidding me?!?_ ” George cackled as his voice rumbled with an animalistic growl as he pulled the dart out and dropped it to the ground.

The man desperately tried to scramble out of the hole, his legs dangled freely and he clawed at the carpet, but the bear man brought the latch down onto his back and head once before throwing it back open wide. George had a handful of his shirt and he used it to chuck the soldier out of the plane through the open door and the man screamed wildly as he flew.

Two more were up and through the hole and George felt more  _darts_  hit his back. He stumbled slightly as he reached inside himself, calling upon his inner power and kicking  _the beast within_  to the  _next level_. His hair stiffened and his canines began to sharpen as he turned, growling an eerily animalistic threat to the masked assailants. The strigoi, clearly the fastest of them, was already moving, knocking one to the side and jumping down into the hole to combat the remaining two below.

They had been  _so focused_  on George, they failed to see the other two men swiftly move behind them. Two Paws was on one and Jacks was already on the other. George plucked one of their weapons from their grip and turned the muzzles towards them, hitting each one with their own darts.

 

* * *

 

When the first man came flying back out of the open plane door, Quinlan waited. Two more dropped limply out of the belly of the fuselage, at their point of entry and he saw the strigoi’s arm reach out and pull the latch shut as the two remaining men were dumped out of the side door. Quinlan grinned.

The radio crackled again:  

> _**Asset is within range. Echo Tango in range. Prepared to engage. Over.** _

Asset? Ah  _yes. That. It was approaching._  He could hear the  _humming_  getting closer and he understood what had been  _following_  them. He considered asking the Agent to call off the snipers again, but doubted the man’s ability to be complicit at all. Instead, he stared at the radio and severed hand and considered its usefulness was moot.

Releasing his hold on the  _agent’s_  shirt, the man crumpled to the ground, still dramatically holding his stump against his chest and Quinlan turned, looking directly into the sky. His grip on the hand and radio tightened and squeaked as the leather of his glove rubbed against the metal. He tilted his head to the right and then to the left, pinpointing the  _drone’s_  exact  _incoming_  location before he hurled the large walkie-talkie into the sky above like a football. He threw with such force, he actually  _huffed_  a breath of exertion.

Quinlan heard the impact and its proceeding explosion of the munitions housed within it. He stared, waiting for the smoking debris to come into full view as it plummeted from the clouds above.

His patience was waning and when more men attempted to sneak from behind, he was done playing and his anger flared as two soldiers attempted to flank him, coming around the side of the overturned vehicle. Spinning, he was absolutely  _merciless_  and he cut the head from the closest soldier first before he plunged the edge into the heart of the second. Just as with the  _agent’s_  hand, there was no mess or blood as wounds were  _melted_  shut, but something quite different happened this time.

The man’s head hit the ground and his heart pumped its final beat, the sword rattled violently in his grip, causing him to hold the handle with both hands in order to control it as something flowed  _out_  of the bodies and into the metal of the sword. It looked as if it was small bits of sand, but each tiny grain burned with an  _ember_  glow and as the blade absorbed them, the angelic glyphs etched into the Mokume Gane burned with  _white fire_.

The handle began to heat and the sword began to  _scream_  with vibrations and Quinlan’s body shook violently as he took a deep stance to try and hold the weapon at bay. His muscles flexed and  _struggled_  as the wind kicked up violently and blew dirt directly into his face, clearly displeased with his  _merciless_  action and he stepped to the side to avoid the assault on his eyes.  

> _You fool!_  Barqan’s voice roared.  _What are you doing?! Release the charge!_
> 
> _WHAT?_  Quinlan screamed.  _Discharge what?!_
> 
> _The sword, you fool! You_   ** _must_**   _release the energy it consumes!_
> 
> _Energy?! HOW?!?_

_Good Gods._  It was clear why the Djinn had said he needed to  _reinforce_  the handle and the power seemed to only be growing as it flowed from the bodies. He clenched his jaw and his teeth clinked together.  

> _Strike it against something! QUICKLY! With all the power of your_   ** _strength_**!

Unsure of what the result might be, he did as instructed and raised the blade above his head in both hands, taking a deep breath as he brought it down like a hammer onto the ground, preparing himself for a substantial kick back, but none occurred. The blade struck the ground and a violent shockwave erupted from the tip of it, running in a straight line across the field, tearing up the earth as it moved. He hadn’t paid much attention to the direction of it and if he hadn’t sidestepped to avoid the  _dirt_  in his eyes, he would have damaged the runway itself.

Instead, the shock wave ripped into the center Abrams tank, bending the metal of the main gun barrel down nearly forty five degrees before the tank flipped up and completely over onto its top.

Quinlan stared down at his weapon, now quiet and vibration-free, with wide eyes and the Agent’s mouth fell slightly agape.

 

* * *

 

“ ** _Holy shit_**. Do you hear that?  _Do you hear that?_ ” Two Paws asked, goosebumps running across his skin as he caught George’s own changing expression and Thomas tilted his head.

“ _Yeah_.” The bear man ignored his own instructions to stay away from the windows, and he darted to the right side of the plane to look out and Jacks jumped with him.

“What? What is it?” Dutch popped up from her hiding spot and stared out the window, pulling out of Fet’s arms as he tried to hold her back down. She heard  _nothing_. “What the fuck is it now?”

“It’s …” George answered and Jacks squinted into the clouds. “ _Thunder_.”

 _Now_  she heard it, just as  _everyone else_  did and a wicked explosion of force  _rocked_  the plane violently. The ground and metal rattled all around them and Fet cursed as he covered his ears while Gus uttered a quick prayer.

_Oh fuck._

“No.” Dutch gulped. “ _That wasn’t thunder, love._ ” She looked over at George, concern and defeat spreading across her face. “ ** _That was a fucking sonic boom_**. That means we’re  _fucked_.”

“Actually, my dear …” Thomas moved to look out another window. “That was  _two_  very close sonic booms.”

“I didn’t mean  _Thunder_  … as in  _lightning_.” George was  _smiling_ , never tearing his eyes from the clouds.

Jacks pointed, spying what they were looking for in the sky. “ _There_!”

 

* * *

 

**[Alive - Phil Lober](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6ZlLUOdFKtrYoHS2Ih6abW&t=MGM5MGE4NjJiMzE4ZTI4ODlmMjY5OWY2MzlkMWUzYTcwZmVjY2M5ZixURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1) **

“I hope it’s now painfully obvious.” He could have thrown  _anything_  into the drone, but he used the radio,  _and hand_ , on purpose. It was a message to the  _Agent_. “You are no longer of  _any_  use to me,  _ghost_.”

“So, what’s your plan then?” The man tried to laugh through his fear. “You really think you’re gonna get that plane off the ground?”

The dhampir  _did_  laugh through the man’s fear as he raised a brow. “I think you’ll find it foolish to  _doubt_  me.”

Quinlan heard more humming in the distant sky. And even through the carnage of Barqan ripping apart the army down the tarmac, he could hear more vehicles advancing on them in all directions. More men. More helicopters. More drones. More …  _too many_.

“Even if you do get it in the air …”  _Smith/Johnson_  finally let go of his stump and pulled himself to his feet. “ _We’ll just shoot it down._ ”  _Damnation._  “You’re outnumbered,  _fuck head_. We’d prefer to take everyone alive, but if that’s not possible,  _no one’s leaving this airport_.”

He reached back, planning to strike the man with the back of his hand, with enough force that he wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore but an approaching rumble caused him pause. Something was shaking the ground and Quinlan cringed.

He assumed it was a pair of jets approaching … until he heard the familiar voice clearly in his mind, until he heard  _her_  playful voice and it brought an immediate smirk to his face:  

> **_Did you miss me, my child?_ **

_Oh gods … How?!? Yes. Yes, he actually had missed her and his heart leapt at the sight of_   ** _them_**   _breaking through the clouds above._

The agent’s gasp was audible as the two small projectile objects, having slowed and circled back around to arch down to  _his_  location. Shooting down towards the tarmac in a perfectly straight line, they first looked like  _human_  missiles until their wings were finally visible as they opened them fully twenty feet from the ground. They spread them at the last moment to create an uplift and allow them to land on their feet cleanly, perfectly …  _beautifully_ , through the  _Golden_  one came down to one knee before rising again, standing equal distances between the plane and the dhampir.

Both stood side by side and flexed their wings in glorious unison, staring out across the human army that was positioned all around them. Everything and everyone stopped at once. Even Barqan and the men who were firing upon him took a quiet moment as all eyes were upon the two new entrants to the fight. The men had muttered about  _devils and demons_  before, and now, something very clearly the  _exact_ opposite stood before them.

“ _Oh … my … god …_ ” The agent stuttered.

“Indeed.” Quinlan sighed in relief as he stared upon them with gratitude and Ozryel locked eyes with him before turning to face the approaching vehicles.

She stepped forward, throwing her hands out to either side of her. The Celestial Blade was in her left grip and she held it out as she smiled gloriously at all those who witnessed them. He wondered if she had  _taken_  it from Sempronius. He wondered many things right now. What had happened to Sempronius and Honoria? And these two … the  _Hands of God_ , were here, on  _Earth_  … together again? Where was Raphael? _What about Heaven?_

Her cotton robes began to change shape, shedding its organic look and becoming  _silver_  armour. Michael’s did the same, but his armour was  _gold_  and they stood side by side as helmets formed up and over their heads. Though Michael’s shielded his face entirely, Ozryel’s was open-faced, no doubt to allow everyone to see her mad grin and allow her to spout off freely. The feathers of their wings followed suit and turned to metal.

“Alright,  _you saucy bitches!_ ” She chortled loudly, welcoming them to be the first to challenge her. “I’m here!  ** _Who wishes to be first?!_** ” 


	93. 11.5 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a fan of Ozryel, you’ll enjoy the next chapter.

**[Disturbia (Rihanna Cover) - Kina Grannis](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3HcpaOSEe5U7ao54VTEYE4&t=ZTJmODc1ZmM1MGRmMTQzYzdkZTczOTEzYzJlNzU0ZjM3NGRlN2VhMyxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Nothing heard, nothing said_
> 
> _Can’t even speak about it_
> 
> _All my life on my head_
> 
> _Don’t want to think about it_
> 
> _Feels like I’m going insane_

She was definitely getting better. Taking a deep step away from the canvas, she tapped her lower lip and surveyed the creation from side to side. Setting the paint brush down, she tilted her head from left to right as her eyes crawled over every single detail. Over the defined muscle tone of the torso, over the curve of skull, over the jaw line.

She didn’t mean to paint this  _again_. She had stared off wanting to follow the tutorial in the YouTube video she  _was_  watching. They instructed, in great detail, how to paint a ballerina.  _She fucking hated ballerinas._

 _Hmmm._  And this …  _this_  was  _definitely_   ** _not_**  a ballerina. She smiled but as she continued to stare at the strange figure she painted, she grew solemn and plucked the canvas from the easel and walked to the  _others_  leaning conspicuously against the wall. She turned it around so she couldn’t see the image and leaned it against the rest.

_No. Stop this. It’s weird and stupid._

She turned back to the now-empty easel and thought about starting  _again_ , but opted for another glass of wine and re-visiting the balcony. The frigid wind assaulted her face and she walked to the spot she always did, running her fingers across the ‘X’ in the railing as she stared out across the city, urging  _herself_  not to look down.

_Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it._

But even as she said it, her eyes betrayed her instruction and she looked down into the  _blackness_  below her. She gulped and her hands trembled, but even so … something  _felt_  close. Something pierced through that blackness and she teared up, her heart leapt at the feeling of it as, yet again, the wind hit her.

What was it? What was leaking through that  _thing_  below her? What was creeping through it? What was distracting her from everything here? She should go back inside. She shouldn’t come out here again. She should focus on the present and  _now_. Yesterday is dead. In fact, she snorted at the thought,  _yesterday is deader than it has ever been_ , but, she looked down, and again, felt it. With every fiber of her  _damned_ being, she felt it.

 ** _Something was coming_**. It felt almost like  _a promise_. It was powerful and fierce; unrelenting and unabashed; determined and stubborn. It was …

##  ****_Hope._****

 

* * *

****** **

**[The Rookie - The Chainsmokers](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7D7tu1NS4f9jvDkb5xcUSj&t=ZTU1ZTNjNzFiZDYzNDQyM2RlYjk3ZDIwY2I1OTU5MGNlNDUwMjc2MixqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

“I’m here!  ** _Who wishes to be first?!_** ”

Even Quinlan froze. His breath trapped in his chest, refusing to escape as he wondered what might  _possibly_  happen next. He rarely felt nervous, but as the everything and everyone came to a stop to gaze upon the …  ** _Angels_** , his skin felt a prickling of sweet apprehension before  _all hell broke loose_. Ozryel bellowed her challenge and the US Army met it, with furious and  ** _regrettable_**  intent.

First, the snipers popped in the distance and bullets approached her from multiple angles. Her arms fell to her sides. Her eyes closed slowly. Her chest expanded as she took a deep and powerful breath in and held it, biting her lower lip.

Second, the Abrams’ were moving their barrels. Their targeting was being shifted from Quinlan’s location to that of the Hayyoth.

Third, further humming could be heard approaching from the distance.

There was a most  _delicate_  tremble in her hands and it was obvious she was expending an incredible amount of  _concentration on whatever was about to happen_.  ** _Everything_** around her stopped. The dust particles, the smoke, the  _wind_ , all halted and remained still in a ten foot radius from her and as the dozen bullets breached this invisible wall, they slowed, coming to a halt in the air and hovering quietly before her. When she opened her  _red_  eyes, her iris glowed brightly, shining with crimson light. Reaching up, she plucked the one closest to her out of the air, the one directly in front of her face and she smiled gloriously at the object. “Silvered bullets?” Her chuckle was both terrifying and satisfying. “Oh my poor children … did you think you would be fighting  ** _strigoi_**  today?” She dropped the bullet and wiped her fingers off on her armour. “ ** _How … quaint._** ”

As the embered glow faded from her eyes and they returned to their normal dull, everything around her moved again and the remaining bullets simply dropped to the ground.

 _That_. Quinlan swallowed hard. That was  _The Power of Creation._  She was controlling the Earthly molecules around her on an atomic level.

“You’re going to have to try  _quite a bit_  harder than that, I’m afraid.”

His distraction was absolute and he failed to stop his prisoner from escaping. The Agent bounded down the runway, fleeing towards the next barrage of moving vehicles, still holding his new stump to his chest as he screamed at the top of his lungs. “TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!” He was useless to Quinlan now, so he allowed the man his freedom.

“Really?!? You can’t be serious!” She bellowed after  _Smith/Johnson_  in disbelief. “You have just witnessed what a tiny  _shard_  of my blade is capable of! Are you  _really_  that eager to taste its  _full power_?!”

Almost in perfect response to her question, the vehicle-mounted 50 calibers began to unload from all around and the snipers began to pop in the distance again. The Hayyoths reacted instantly. 

> _Dibs on the cowards._

Michael moved towards the snipers and as he half-ran, half-flew off into the distance. As he moved, he cut into the ground, leaving a path of destroyed earth and dirt billowing behind in his wake.

She contested immediately, but her brother had already covered half the distance to them. “No! Dammit!  _Unfair_!” She shouted after him, sidestepping the bullets that aimed to penetrate her. “I wanted them! Bollocks.” As if on perfect cue, Quinlan heard an artillery shell being slid into the barrel of the left most Abrams and Ozryel turned, her grin returning as she mused quietly to herself. “ _Eh, I suppose_   ** _you’ll_**   _do_.”

She darted towards the row of tanks and Quinlan was at first confused by what he saw. As she ran, with each incredibly fast step, she swung the celestial blade, alternating left and right,  _striking_  it hard against the ground on either side of her. At first, he assumed it was a childish show of agitation until he began to hear the vibrations  _building_  in the blade.

 _Good gods. She was … she was_   ** _charging_**   _it._  Striking it with the full power of her strength and allowing the blade to absorb the kinetic  _energy_  from each of the hits. He looked down at his own weapon and and regretted not getting proper instruction from Barqan when he had the chance.

Speaking of the  _Djinn king_ , Quinlan turned to survey his whereabouts. No longer the main target of the soldiers, he began to ram his body against and thrust his horns into everything around him, overturning all that was engaging him.

He might have watched further but the very distinguishable sound of an artillery shell being  _shot_  out of the barrel rocked his attention back to the tanks and Ozryel had already cleared the distance to them. She leapt into the air, bringing the sword above her head with both hands. Her trajectory arched up and then down towards the barrell and she cut it perfectly in half. The projectile was still thundering through its shaft when it met the edge of her blade. Metal bent and curled away from her fury as she continued to cut through to the end of the barrel, gracefully landing with each of her feet between either side of the driver’s hatch.

The charge that she had built within the blade was released with the savage strike and as it carried through, it sliced the entire back two-thirds of the tank in half. It all happened in an instant and she waited as the metal of the iron beast creaked and cracked ominously and then each half fell away from the other and the tank split open before her, its occupants clambering out and madly running for freedom.

Grinning as always, she tapped the tip of blade on the hatch door, where Quinlan knew the driver was still hiding and it popped open. She stepped to the side of it and waved its occupant out, flicking her chin to the left. He climbed free and she watched as he tried to scramble away from her as fast as possible and she purposefully tripped him as he darted to jump down, sending him crashing to the ground on his shoulder.

“Ooops. Sorry!  _Sorry_!!!” She lied, chuckling as he got to his feet and she permitted him to escape. The other gun stations on the remaining three tanks were manned and they opened fire on her. Bad decision. Now  _they_  had her  _full_  attention.

 

* * *

 

They all watched in silent awe until Fet finally said  _something_. He said what most of them were already thinking, and no one really knew how to feel about it. No one really knew what to  _make_  of it.

“Did ya guys see dat shit. She just cut dat tank in half. Wait, is dat …” The Ukrainian pointed, shaking his head over his own words. “Nah. Nah … Is dat …  _da Mast–_ ”

“No fucking way  _man_.” Dutch refused. “Nuh-uh. Nope.”

“Mein …” Thomas stuttered and his voice cracked, watching the tall and slender white-haired Archangel continue to spit threats at the entire  _United States Army_  as she waved around a silver sword, egging them all on  _madly_. “Mein …  ** _Meister_**?”

“Fuck.” Dutch stood, invigorated with purpose and courage. “That one there. Bring it here.  _Quickly now_!” She pointed to the pelican cases, barking an order at Gus, who was crouched closest to them. “Get  _your toy_  too, love. Can’t let them have all the fun, can we?”

“They said to stay down!” George pressed, but she was opening the case and Gus was moving to open one of the others.  _His toy?_  Ah shit. “What are you doing?” George pushed and she flipped the top open, beginning to turn equipment, a crazy grin painted on her face.

“I’m gonna cut the head off the snake.” She purred at her equipment as it booted up. “I ain’t gettin’ nicked again.”

“What does that mean?” Jacks asked, his eyes flew wide as Gus began to piece together a large and complex sniper rifle from his case.  _Holy shit._

“It means …” She began typing frantically on the keyboard within and signals began to dance across the tiny screen. Military radio chatter played out of the speakers and her grin only grew wider. “Gotcha, you  _wankers_. Let’s see how  ** _you_**  like being  _jammed_.”

 

* * *

 

It was quieter now. Some of the large caliber rounds that fired in the far distance had even stopped and he could hear the faint screams of terror closely following cries of agony as bones broke. Michael was apparently not in the same  _forgiving_  mood as Ozryel seemed to be. Then it was  _even quieter_  as  _no distant gunshots_  were heard. 

> _Why are you just standing there?_

She reached out to him. Wait … Had he really just been standing there …  _gawking_?! Yes. Yes he had. 

> _Stop gawking and clear the damn runway, Pale Child! Or do you wish me to_   ** _carry_**   _you all the way to Siberia?_

Sliding his sword  _very gently_  back into its sheath, he jumped into action instantly as the thought of her  _carrying_  him was  _absolutely unacceptable._  He had no doubts she would attempt to coddle him like a baby should that situation occur.

The vehicles parked before the jet were deserted. He had already flipped one out of the way, and that left only two other black SUVs. As he began to pull them away, he glimpsed Michael returning, joining Ozryel in smashing the tanks until the first drone strike was launched from above. The Angel clearly heard it before Quinlan did and he was airborne and out of sight to meet the incoming missile head on.

 

* * *

 

**[Disturbia - Rihanna](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2VOomzT6VavJOGBeySqaMc&t=MmE2YThiMzNhYWZlYTkwODY3Y2I1ZTcxMzFkZjJhMjJmNjkyOWUxYixqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _It’s a thief in the night_
> 
> _To come and grab you_
> 
> _It can creep up inside you_
> 
> _And consume you_
> 
> _A disease of the mind_
> 
> _It can control you_
> 
> _It’s too close for comfort_

The drone slammed into the grassy knoll between the asphalt paths, cratering into and smashing across the dirt. Michael landed hard next to the smoking object, the impact brought him to a knee before he huffed back to his feet and he was upon the final tank. Its top was swiveling to target Oz, who was ripping another one apart with her bare hands, crushing the weaponry before plucking the humans from their hatches and tossing them to the ground below.

Michael took a deep stance on the front of the tank and began to bend the main barrell up and over itself in a curve. The metal creaked as it gave way to his angelic strength, but he struggled.  _Oh gods,_  he struggled and his muscles flexed with the effort. This should have been an easy thing for him to do. It should have required little effort, if any at all.

Entirely unaware of the disablement of their main cannon, the men within attempted to fire and the explosion that erupted within the belly of the tank was substantial. He was expecting it, but he was entirely unable to stop it and the force still sent him flying back, tumbling and rolling across the ground like a rag doll.

“Michael!” Ozryel shouted his  _actual_  name, leaving her partially destroyed tank behind as she sprinted to his resting location, bending to him. “ _What is_   ** _wrong_**   _with you?_ ”

“I …” He could continue to deny it. He could  _assure_  her, but it didn’t matter. She knew him. Better than anyone, in fact, and he accepted, up to this point, she had been allowing him discretion. “I don’t know, Oz. Something’s … ” He held a hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. “ _Something’s wrong._ ”

“Lot’s of things are wrong right now, brother.” She pulled him to his feet, as he  _faltered_ and she  _bolstered_. “You need to be more specific please.”

“I’m not …  _recharging_ , Oz.” His divinity wasn’t returning. Since the Chamber of Rebirth, his power had been  _draining_. She braced him, as he  _stumbled_ , she  _reinforced_.

“Is this …” He choked. “Is this what it feels like to  _fall_ , brother?” Simply  _asking_  the question pained him. He didn’t really wish to know the answer, as he had been certain this was the cause. “Has  _Father_  entirely forsaken me?” He  _doubted_  and she  _reassured_.

“What?!? Don’t be  _absurd_.” She shook her head, reaching up and putting a hand on either side of his head as she  _reached_  into him. She wanted to feel for his pool. She wanted to know if what her brother was saying was accurate but in the unusual darkness of his divine soul, she saw  _no light_ , until there was light  _everywhere_. White, gold, amber, indigo  _and green_  and she heard  _his_  voice. 

> _Oh … Ozryel. Ozryel. **Oz**._

She tried to retreat, to back out of Michael’s mind but she found herself powerless against  ** _his_**   _light._  

> _Ozryel, how I have missed you, dear brother …_

He reached for her and she pulled herself  ** _free_** , both psychically as well as physically, staggering away from him as she did. Bending over to catch her breath, she struggled to speak. His voice lingered through several more sinister words as the connection faded. 

> **Don’t worry. _I’ll see you soon._**

“Ooof.” She stood up straight, cracking her neck as she calmed her heart. “That was a  _terrible_  idea. Do NOT let me do that again.”

“Oz?” Michael’s voice trembled. “What is it? What did you see?”

“It’s that little cock sucker brother of ours. No. You aren’t falling, brother.” She reached for him again, grabbing his arms with her talon-like hands as she pulled him close. “He’s draining you. Taking your divinity  _as you are creating it_.”

“What?” Michael refused. “No. That’s not possible. That’s–”

“Trust me, Golden One. I have  _had_  him in my mind. I am well aware of what he is capable of.” Goosebumps trailed across her skin as the recollection of her  _own_  fall from grace flashed across her mind. “Your child is connected to  _you_  and  _he_  is connected to  _her_. He is  _taking_  from  _you_ , through her.”

Relief washed over Michael’s brow for a moment, realizing his previous statement to be false but concern soon returned as he realized the implications of it. “But … What does that mean? What does that  _imply_? Is she–”

“It means we should not  _dally_  further.” She tightened her grip on his arms and her eyes began to spark with red lightning first. “I apologize.  _This will be_   ** _incredibly_**   _unpleasant_.”

Michael screamed in both shock and agony as she  _charged_  him with her own divinity without  _any_  notice.

 

* * *

 

**[The Enemy - Genevieve](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F61e4r2tMCsEr8lgaIKtmjP&t=MjM1ZjYzOGQ3NTVhMzYxZDBkMzM2YjM3NDhlYjU0NjFhY2FlMTIyZCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Don’t wanna be the picture_  
>  _I’m not part of the show_  
>  _Not gonna play along_  
>  _And act like I don’t know_  
>  _There’s no hiding in the future_  
>  _No promises we owe_  
>  _You’ll never have to lie to me_  
>  _I’ll never be the enemy_

Every time he had to sprint through the  _pulse_ , Uriel cringed, but persevered, as always. He flew fast and  ** _hard_** , following the rings to their origin. As he approached  _Old Rome_ , he squinted from high in the sky, pinpointing the very center of it. It was coming from a courtyard. All the souls bustled around, unaware of the affect the being was emanating.

He landed quietly  _behind_  her and took two steps towards the  _seemingly human woman_ , who sat at the small metal table outside. She took a drink of her cappuccino, set it down as she folded her newspaper and spoke to him.

“ _Hello, Uriel._ ”

All the hair on his body pricked as her tone was both  _calm_  and  _relieved_. He had been completely silent in his approach, but he  _knew_ , with  _her_ , it didn’t matter. She simply already knew he would come. She always  _knew_.

“Sister.” The title was  _honorary_. She wasn’t like them. She never was. As he came around the table, he gazed upon her human form for only a brief moment as she  _finally_ released it. The skin, which  _had_  been humanly warm, changed to a light and dull  _gray_. Much like the  _Djinn_  royalty, Sandalphon had been born  _covered_  in glyphs, but  _unlike_ the  _Marid_ , her glyphs moved and rotated, shifting around each other like the  _gears of a clock_. While her hair remained the rich, dark brown, her irises deepened to an intense and saturated blue. Her nose and ears faded away and she waved a hand towards the empty chair across from her.

“Do have a seat, please.” She smiled. “I’ve been  _waiting_  for you.”

“It’s been …” He pulled the chair out and sat down. “ It’s been  _a long time_ , Andy.”

“You’re not wrong there.” She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “In fact …  _Much longer for me_  than you could even imagine,  _brother_.”

 

* * *

 

“What am I aimin’ for?!” Gus called from his position on his belly in front of the open plane door. Much to George’s continued dismay, the Boxer exposed himself courageously as he squinted through the viewfinder of the expensive weapon.

“Start with the Radar.” She replied and he looked back, giving her the most annoyed expression he could manage. Rolling her eyes, she spun her fingers in an exaggerated circle. “Oh good lord!  ** _The spinny one_**! SHOOT THE SPINNY ONE.”

“You coulda just said that.” He retorted and looked back across to the direction he was targeting. Adjusting the dials on the scope, the top of the Control Tower came sharply into focus and he moved the weapon to the  _spinny one_. Aiming for the base, he was grateful for the lack of wind and he squeezed the trigger gently. Not much happened and he unloaded more rounds into the mechanism until it toppled over and  _stopped_ spinning. “Next?”

“Go for the dishes.” She instructed.

“Which one?”

“ _All of them_.” She cackled.

“It’s clear!” Jacks screamed from the cockpit. He had watched the dhampir drag the vehicles out of their path.

“Ok, you guys are up.” George waved the pilots over. “Move it!” Their reluctance required him to physically pull them up as he ushered them to the controls and Gus began to unload more bullets into the communication gear on the tower. “Get it started!”

“Hey…” Someone was tapping George on the shoulder and he spun to see a big grin on the Ukrainian face as he offered a grenade to George. “You think  _you_ , or da  _strigoi_ , got the better arm?”

 

* * *

 

The runway was clear and Quinlan brushed his gloves together to rid himself of the dirt from the tires when Michael screamed in the distance, Ozryel barked orders at him again, and gunfire erupted from within the  _plane_.

_What in the …_

“Into the plane!  _Chop, chop, children!_ ” She was clapping at him for his attention as the pair of blackhawk choppers approached from the South and the next wave of military assault began to barrell towards them from all directions. “Quickly now!  _Move your pitiful little arses_!”

 _Wait. Children?_  Quinlan jumped suddenly as Barqan was standing beside him and he had no idea how long he had been there. The Marid was back to his human form and moved as silently as smoke. Being surprised was something Quinlan had not felt since he was quite young and he glared at the Black King. As the blackhawks approached from the South, they barreled towards the angels and Quinlan turned to the plane, following her instruction as they opened fire on the Hayyoth.

Ozryel stepped in front, shielding her  _other_ , whose skin danced with subtle red fire now, from the high caliber rounds. They hit and sparked against her armour. The other chopper took a position on the other side and began to unload. Quinlan took a step forward, but Barqan gripped his arm and they watched as the  ** _Angel of Death_** retaliated without mercy.

She was already moving, taking several large strides back towards the partially destroyed tank and the gunfire followed her. She was laughing? In fact, she was snorting wildly as she gripped the mechanism that housed the treads on the left side of the tank, her talons pinching deeply into the metal and she spun her body, torquing it back towards her assailants. The movement was graceful and she hurled the metal beast into the air, hitting one chopper and sending  _both_  crashing into each other. She was  _still_  snorting as they both fell to the ground.

_Oh … gods._

Quinlan  _might_  have gawked longer, but the plane engines began to hum behind them and Barqan pulled him along, urging him into the plane as vehicles approached on either side again.

_Damnation._

As he approached the plane, the ground fell away and Quinlan realized he was in the air, the smoke carrying him and setting him into the doorway as the  _Djinn_  in front of him.

The dhampir stepped over the Boxer and headed towards the cockpit. Bending over the pilot, he looked out the window at the approaching vehicles and hissed in discontent. More armoured SUVs. They were hoping to barricade them in.

Quinlan’s eyes swept the other runways. He noted a better option, pointing across the grass. “[Laggiù. Quello](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FOver%2520there.%2520%2520That%2520one.&t=YTY0NjJlYTIyOGNkYzgwZjBiZmRlN2I0MjU0NjZkNGFiYzBkYTlhOCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)[.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FOver%2520there.%2520%2520That%2520one.&t=YTY0NjJlYTIyOGNkYzgwZjBiZmRlN2I0MjU0NjZkNGFiYzBkYTlhOCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)”

The pilot compiled and the plane lurched forward and turned to the right, bumping over the grassy field as they attempted an escape from the approaching military. Turning left onto the clear path, the pilot uttered a small prayer and pushed the throttle forward.

 

* * *

> _Stay with the plane._

She commanded Michael as she took to the sky, pulling her blade and heading for the incoming third chopper. This one wasn’t meant as an assault, but she could see it was landing to pick  _someone_  up. 

> _Jesus, Oz. The plane isn’t import–_
> 
> _Unless you want to_   ** _carry_**   _Quintus to Russia,_   ** _stay with that goddamn plane._**
> 
> _Oz–_
> 
> _Get_   ** _them_**   _a good distance away. I will catch up._

He grunted, moving to protect the moving aircraft from the second barrage of soldiers. Even at the speed of sound, it would take them over seventeen hours to get to Baikal and he was unsure if he was even capable of flying that distance himself in his current state.

 

* * *

 

More shots echoed and they were met with cross fire from Gus, still wielding his massive gun, still laying bravely on his belly at the door while struggling to target the shooters as the plane rocked back and forth. Explosions hit the cars as George and Thomas took turns chucking grenades that Fet eagerly provided from his own  _precious_ pelican case.

“ _Boom_.” The Ukrainian laughed each and every time.

But it wasn’t enough and Quinlan turned back to the door, pulling his sword out again, planning to assault the caravan by jumping onto the closest trailing lead SUV. 

> _Don’t you dare get back out of that fucking plane, you little shit. I’m_   ** _not_**   _carrying you._

Quinlan cringed.  _Damnation. No one was going to_   ** _carry him_**   _anywhere!_  He heard Michael’s voice, ripe with annoyance, as always, but he had no idea  _where_  the angel was until the golden knight flew into sight from the side, picking up speed and overtaking the front SUV, pacing it as he looked within, smirking at the driver, his wings high and curved above him as he glided. 

> _Close the door. I got this._

Quinlan hesitated, but Michael pulled his shoulder in and rammed the side of the vehicle once, then twice, sending it into a savage roll out of sight and then he targeted the next ones. Quinlan complied and reached out, pulling the door shut, even through Gus’ and George’s very vocal protests.

“SEAT BELTS!” The dhampir commanded, waving a finger at everyone as they lurched left and right with the jostling. “We are going …  ** _right now_**.” The dhampir turned, sprinting back to the cockpit, but he found the pilot was pulling the throttle  _back_. 

> _Punch it._

“[Non fermarti](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FDo%2520not%2520stop.&t=MTA4ZTU4ODJhMTQ5YmY0ZDcwMDc2NjVhMmIwMGRjM2Q3M2Y5ZDVjZCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)!” Quinlan screamed at the pilot.

“[Non possiamo decollare! Non c'è spazio!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FWe%2520cannot%2520take%2520off%21%2520%2520There%2520is%2520no%2520room%21&t=NGU2ZWRiYTNiNmQ3ZTFmMzRiMGE3MTY0MzY4ZjQxNmUzNzExMzBjMCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)” The man pointed at the barricade of vehicles clogging the runway ahead of them.  _Damnation._  These soldiers were like  _cockroaches_.

“[Non fermarti](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FDo%2520not%2520stop.&t=MTA4ZTU4ODJhMTQ5YmY0ZDcwMDc2NjVhMmIwMGRjM2Q3M2Y5ZDVjZCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1).” Quinlan bent forward and sneered, pushing the throttle with his hand, even as the pilot protested and tried to fight him. It was half-command, half-threat.

 

* * *

 

She heard the voices of the man barking orders from within the barricade in front of the plane. “Target the wheels! Take out an engine! Disable that plane any way you can! We want them  _alive_!” The gunmen aimed and Ozryel surveyed the scene. Michael was taking out the cars that trailed them from behind, but there was no protection from the front. She could sprint, but she wouldn’t be fast enough.

 _There was too much distance and she closed her eyes as her heart broke in half._  Her grin faded as she gazed upon the man within her reach and her mind washed over all of his memories.  _All of his life. All of his loves and hates and accomplishments and failures. Everything that made him unique and beautiful and_   ** _alive_**. She had planned to just toss him to the side so she could get to the  _fool_  he was protecting, but …

“ _I am … so_   ** _sorry …_**   _my child._ ” Her tone shook with tormented agony and she embraced, yet again, what she had always been …  ** _all_**   _of her long existence_ :  _God’s Unrelenting and_   ** _Merciless_**   _Right Hand_. As she pushed the blade into the meat of his chest and it pierced his heart so the weapon could absorb the power of his soul, she brought her forehead against his, tears streaming down her striped and pale face. “ _David Benjamin … I will remember you_.”

And she would because she  _always_  had. Each and every time she closed her eyes, she saw their beautiful faces.  _All of them._   ** _She remembered all of them_**. Each and  _every_ soul. And Ozryel was  _angry_  now, over what  _they_  … over what  _the Rainbow Child_  … had forced her hand to do yet again. As she turned and unleashed the blade’s power, sending the wave of force towards the barricade, she screamed as loud as she could, her voice cracking in pure torment as she wept.

 

* * *

> _Faster, boy! FASTER!_

“[NO! È un suicidio!](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23it%2Fen%2FNO%21%2520%25C3%2588%2520un%2520suicidio%21&t=MWM3YWQ5MGIzZmRlNDg2ZTllYzdjOTZhNDcwMjg0MmYwYTEwOTc3ZixqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)” The man resisted for the last time and Quinlan grabbed his shirt collar from the back, pulling the pilot directly up and over the back of the seat. He slid into the open chair and pushed the throttle forward fully. He hadn’t flown a plane for quite some time, but the memories rushed back to him immediately.

“[Santa merda! Stiamo per morire!”](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FHoly%2520Shit%21%2520We%2520are%2520going%2520to%2520die%21&t=MjAxYjQ2NjI2Yjk0YzJmMzdjNWJlNTEwM2UyYzIzYTg3NTE3NzA0MyxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) The co-pilot screamed and Quinlan grinned madly as they picked up incredible speed. The pilot was quite right. There’s no way they had enough room to take off and Quinlan almost felt like he was playing  _chicken_  with the military. 

> _It’s about to get_   ** _bumpy_**.

“Brace yourselves!” Quinlan relayed the warning to everyone behind him and when he was certain they were going to slam into the vehicles head on, something hit the bottom of the plane, jostling  _everything_  within at the same moment something  _incredible_  struck the SUVs from the side. He couldn’t discern its origin from the cockpit’s view, but he knew it was  _her_. The force of the blast was reminiscent of what his sword had done to the Abrams, but this was far more powerful. And, just like his strike, it ripped across the ground, tearing up dirt  _and_  asphalt as  _everything_  and  _everyone_  in its path was blown back with the explosion.

“ _Ah shit!!!_ ” He could hear Fet’s concern from behind. “What da  _fuck_  is–”

The metal of the plane creaked and the ground lifted away as their front wheel clipped the very top of the debris left in their path.

 

* * *

 

**[Yeah yeah yeah - Radio Edit](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6reg46TnVrrHBEpV4H9yZN&t=NGE2YjMyNGI1YjM0NzE1YzVkNmU3ZTUxZjkzNDUwYzQyNzQ2MjdkNCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Find me a man, who will do me right_
> 
> _And keep me singing all through the night_
> 
> _Can you find me a man, who will love me good_
> 
> _And I be loving now, and I be love you singing_

She watched as her brother flipped in mid air, pressing his belly against that of the plane. His wings didn’t have much room, but they were still a flurry of motion, cutting through the air and flapping with large graceful strokes as his muscles flexed and he heaved the plane  _up off the ground_. He continued to push until the plane’s engine took over.

Both soared into the sky and when they were far enough away, Ozryel took a deep breath before she wailed wickedly into the sky. This time,  _her scream_  wasn’t out of anger. This time, it was strategic. She needed to wait for  _them_  to get far enough away, otherwise it would have  _crippled_  their plane.

Her face changed as the volume of her cry grew. Her features became serpentine and she sheathed her  _dangerous_  weapon. As her psychic attack hit the soldiers around,  _all of the glass shattered_ , every  _new soul_  present dropped to unconsciousness. A few of the  _old souls_  still lingered.  _The Scream_  had no affect on them, because they had  _heard_ the voice of Heaven before and were immune to its crippling volume.

Her target scrambled and she smirked. Of course he was an old soul.  _Of course_. The more defiant ones commonly were, weren’t they? She bent and grabbed the handless man, swirling him around and pushing his back against the chopper than had meant to be his escape.

The static that had been flowing through the discarded walkie suddenly turned to voices as the Hacker’s jamming signal moved out of range. 

> _Target is airborne. Over._

“Hello there …” She scraped his mind as she smelled him, her face still half-snake and he flinched.  ** _“[Timothy … Eric … Richards](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20876483&t=NzQzNGQ0ZGY1YjZlYjk5MGQ0YzNkMTFjZDYwZjkwNDc4ODgxMmVhNSxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1).”_**  

> _Air support incoming. Over._

“Not a ghost at all, are you? You’re just a  _child_. * Just a boy* … albeit, quite a  _troublesome_  little boy, aren’t you?” She pawed through his  _most open_  thoughts and his  _racing_  memories.  _His dead grandmother._   _How sad and bitterly sweet._  “You should be ashamed. What would your  _grams_  say? She was  _quite_  the faithful soul, after all. She prayed often.” 

> _Raptor One and Raptor Two are a go to engage target. Raptor Three and Four to follow. Over._

“ _Oh my_.” She feigned concern. “Raptors? Now  _that_  sounds like  _fun_.” Ozryel flexed her wings as she looked down at the walkie, cocking her head to the right before she looked at him again.  _Raptors_. She pawed through all the memories of the millions that the Master had taken and she grinned even wider. “Those wouldn’t happen to be [Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptors](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FLockheed_Martin_F-22_Raptor&t=ZTk1OTUwZGNkOTA3ZmNjM2Y0ZjY1ZTJmNDU4MGUyY2VlNmQ3Njg3YSxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1), would they?” He glared at her, trying to pull out of her grip. “And where might they be flying out of,  _Mr. Richards_?” 

> _20 minutes to interception. Over._

“ _Go fuck yourself._ ” He spat at her. His courage, though it be  _foolish_ , was quite impressive and she was  _proud_  of the man …  _boy_. He managed a little laugh. “You failed. We wanted everyone alive, but now they’re just gonna shoot ‘em out of the sky.”

“Oh,  _Timmy_.” She chuckled at his defiance, using the name only  _his grandmother_  had ever called him. “You’ll find I’m  _not_  nearly as patient as  ** _my son_**. You can either  _tell_  me …” She ran her taloned hand through his hair with strange affection. “Or … I can just  _take_  it …” She flicked her split tongue against her overly sharp canines. “And trust me …  _you’ll definitely prefer the former._ ”

He resisted.

_Good._

* * *

They were at a good altitude and Quinlan slid out of the pilot’s chair, allowing the Italian man to replace him. “[Dobbiamo andare in Siberia.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FWe%2520need%2520to%2520get%2520to%2520Russia.&t=Y2I5ZmE3YTBiMjc5NzFjZTdiNjExYzk1ZWJjNjM1NjBmNWU1ZDQ4YyxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)” 

> _Lake Baikal.  The gate to Hell._

Michael confessed and Quinlan tilted his head. Lake Baikal? He knew it well, for the city closest to the lake, Irkutsk, was where the  _three old world ancients_  had lived before their demise. He was far from shocked. This was  _not_  coincidence, and nor was it coincidence that the  _three new world ancients_  resided in the same state as the gate to Heaven.

“Russia?” The pilot repeated his instruction as he sat down and took over control of the aircraft. “Signore …” He spoke English, but his accent was thick. “We cannot. The flight plan is to Rome. Per Mr. Feraldo’s inst–”

“Take us to  _Siberia_.  _Irkutsk_.  _I will not_   ** _repeat_**   _myself_.” He turned to leave but the man protested further.

“Signore!” The man argued. “We  _cannot_! We have not been  _fueled_  for that flight. We are fueled to the distance of  _Rome_.”

“ _Hmmm_.” Quinlan tilted his head in annoyance. “Very well.” It was very much  _on the way_  and he thought about picking up  _more_  than just fuel while they were there. Perhaps it would be a good place to stop after all. “We will refuel there. Then onto  _Siberia_.”

“They  _will_  track us, signore. [Questa è una follia.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FThis%2520is%2520madness.&t=ZGY4NTk3NGU2YzIwMzJhNzVkZDVlMDYyZmM1MTRiNTcwZjgwNTk3MixqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)” The man spoke as he picked up the radio to speak into it, but found only static and Quinlan grinned, returning to the back of the plane and he found the Hacker already on her equipment.

“Can they track us?” He questioned her immediately.

“They ain’t gonna track  _shit_ , love.” She hummed as she typed away. “We’re  _ghosted_. We’re good.” She smiled at him with glorious mischief.

“ _Good_.” Quinlan breathed a sigh of relief and surveyed everyone present. No one seemed  _newly_  injured, but the stewardess was hunched over an empty row of seats, staring out the window.

“[Cos'è quello?](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fit%2FWhat%2520is%2520that%253F&t=OTY4NGU3ZDI0N2RlZGRmMjcwNGJkOGU0ZjBkZTFlMWVhYmYzZDlhOCxqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1)” She pointed at the wing and Quinlan moved to survey what concerned her.

The archangel was  _on_  the wing, seemingly affixed, his wings pulled tight around him so that nothing but their metallic surface was visible. He was affixed with his gauntlet fingers hooking over the edge of the wing. Overall, he looked like an aerodynamic pimple. 

> _Can you make it inside?_

Quinlan reached out to him, but was not met with  _any response_. The dhampir shook his head and regretted even trying to be  _amiable_. He gruffed one finally thing towards the angel as he finally took a seat to compose himself. 

> _Still an ass, I see._

 

* * *

 

**[PRTCL (ft. Spyder) - Nicky Romero, Spyder](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2eZfqxfSm1Lxm1CQBrGQJN&t=YWU5MGYzNjlhMDNiODEyOTJiMWE4OTk1YzRmNGE2OGE0ZGYyZDdiNixqTnVYWlJkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169934393178%2Fchapter-115-sacrifice&m=1) **

She cut through the clouds with absolute precision, pushing herself faster and then  _faster still_. Without her weaker brother in tow, she pushed the limits of her speed beyond that of  _just_  sound. The freedom of the open skies was something she had missed and she enjoyed these moments, as she hurled towards those  _very_  aggressive targets.

She was  _so very proud_  of man. So utterly proud of their ingenuity and progress. They had made it to sky finally. And not only that, they had made  _metal angels_. How marvelous! She so looked forward to the challenge that awaited her. She wanted them to do their  _very, very best_ , regardless of the fact that she knew  _they would break against her_. She was still so  _fucking proud_.

The air hit across her face and her third eyelids held tightly closed. They were translucent and allowed her sight while protecting the moisture of her eyes from the onslaught of the wind as she flew. Hoping she was heading in the perfect direction, she would cut off their pursuit mid flight.

 _This …_  she hummed to herself as she heard their incredible engines purring in the far distance finally …  _This was going to be_   ** _fucking glorious_**. There was a  _shift_  in the wind and she diverted her path, ever so slightly, to follow it and when she saw their distant and  _fast_  shapes, a tingle erupted in her extremities as she almost became  _nervous with excitement_.

She  _thundered_  towards them with vicious intent.


	94. 11.6 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been neck deep in Jet research this week as well as recovering from a vicious cold.  I’ve learned that air dogfights are quite a lot to describe and as such, the contents of this part do not fully cover the end of Chapter 11.  There will be a part 7 before the next interlude.  I hope you enjoy.  This chapter section is twice as long as most.

**[Thunderstruck - AC/DC](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F57bgtoPSgt236HzfBOd8kj&t=NzNlMmQ2ZTA4NTc1MWQyNTNkNzhhMzM0ZTdlYzM3MzFkMTFhYjIwZSx1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Sound of the drums_
> 
> _Beating in my heart_
> 
> _The thunder of guns_
> 
> _Tore me apart_
> 
> _You’ve been_
> 
> _Thunderstruck_

Her trajectory put her directly in their path, but just ahead of them, as she slowed, waiting as her wings took large, fluid gulps of air, allowing her to hover in place. She prepared herself, physically and mentally. This would likely be easier than taking on a Seraphim,  _but_  there were none like the Hayyoth and Elohim, who were able to reach speeds that caused them to  ** _thunder_**.

Man, not created with the  _natural ability_  to achieve such a feat, had imagined his way into this precious ability and Ozryel smiled as she felt the first rumble of them approaching. She pulled her blade and squinted, her eyes becoming avian in nature. _Hmmm. Only two? Pity._  

> _“Tally one bandit. Twelve O’clock high. 2 miles to Echo Tango Prime.”_

But there would be  _two_  more to follow, as the radio warned after she cocked her head to the left and then the right, opening her celestial channels up to all the signals that bounced through the open air. In front, behind, below, and most importantly  ** _above_** , she allowed  _all_  of the signals to flow into her receptive mind as she began to  _pulse_ commands out while she waited for them to get closer. 

> _“We are ready to play.”_

_Oh yes. Let us._

Their speeds slowed as both of 6-barrel rotary M61 vulcan cannons mounted on each of their right wings began to fire 20 mm rounds of metal towards her at six thousand rounds per minute. She  _could_  dart out of the way, but she wanted to charge  _the weapon_. So, she deflected what she could with it, absorbing their energy and allowing the other rounds to ricochet off her armour violently.

The experience was  _unpleasant_ , to say the least. They continued to unload as they approached and passed her on either side. Each banking away from their  _other_ , they were turning to come back around and she picked her first target and tailed the  ** _right_** one. She was clearly  _far more_  maneuverable than they were.  _What a pity_. As she began to overtake her prey, she could hear the chitter-chat on their radios continue.

> _“Are you seeing this thing?!?”_

Smirking at their dismay, she landed on the right wing, grabbing onto the edge of it with her talons. She stared across into the cockpit, locking eyes with the pilot as she winked at him. “Oh …  _shit_.  _It’s on me!_ ” The jet began to roll and she barely had enough time to flick the blade, severing  _just_  the canon, before she lost her grip and the plane succeeded in shaking her off.

 

> _“Tally one, Fox two.”_

A missile was away from its wingman and she stood her ground, hovering while she waited for it to find her.  _[Sidewinder](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AIM-9_Sidewinder)._   _Heat seeker_. Oh yes … very good, because  _she did run_   ** _very hot_**. In fact, she cranked her internal heat up and her skin began to smoke as she waited for it to approach, just in case the projectile required additional breadcrumbs. When it was a decent distance from her, she sheathed her blade and began to move, banking right hard and heading back towards her targets. 

> _“It’s on your tail!!! Half mile in trail!!!”_

One of the many voices, which rattled endlessly in her head, cautioned that she  _should_ just dispatch them quickly. Stop  _playing_  around. She needed to get back to Michael and the  _children_ , but … she dismissed it. Each day it was easier to ignore each of those  _seven devils_. Their tones were becoming a distance and  _hollow_  memory. Soon, they would be gone completely, with not even a fragment of them echoing and she would be left to her  _madness_  in peace. However, until then …

 **Hush you all.**  

> _“I’ve got you at my left.”_

They saw her coming straight for them and they each banked away, baiting her to follow one so that the other could tail her.  _Clever, clever._  

> _“Copy. Break right! Break right!”_

She cut right, after the fully armed jet. As she began to overtake it, the pilot reacted quickly and his flares were released, igniting the weapon in  _her tow_. “Dammit, man! I was going to use that!” She protested to herself. “Oh well …” To take him down with his own missile would have been quite fulfilling. 

> _“Firewalling this bandit. Full blower.”_

She was gaining on him, already well past his engines when he began to push his plane to its physical limits, hoping to outrun her. Ozryel sparked and kept pace, even as the mechanical angel passed Mach one. The pilot flicked on his afterburner and they thundered along in parallel. When the plane stopping accelerating, Ozryel didn’t and she shot ahead of him, her speed surpassing  _Mach two_. 

> _“Are you seeing the_   ** _vape_**   _on this thing, Mom?!”_

_Uh oh_. Too much, too quickly. She spun, flickering with red when she reached her own limit and her speed decelerated as she sputtered, allowing the plane to  _thunder by_  her. On its passing, she reached out, hooking her greedy talons into the edge of the glass cockpit, latching herself on. Her body rattled violently against the glass and her fingers began to curl into the metal, bending it back. As the integrity of the vehicle failed, the pilot decelerated to eject. 

> _“Punching out! PUNCHING OUT!”_

Well, he did  _attempt_  to eject, but she flung the glass casing away and grabbed onto the handle for him before he could even pull it.

“Bye bye,  _Jonathan_.” She chortled with a snort as she glanced into his wide eyes and then yanked the lever  _hard_. 

> _“Reaperman is splash. I repeat Reaperman is splash!”_  Indeed. Their slang was so  _silly_ and she smiled at it. “ _Fox two. Fox two!_ ”

Another sidewinder was away and she was far too knackered to play with it again. Simply opting to pull her sword, she sliced the projectile in two. The resulting blast knocked her back, but she recovered and pursued her target with waxing tiredness.

 _Good lord these things were fast_. She really didn’t want to chase down another one, so instead she headed straight for him. 

> “ _Fox two._ ”

_Another_  missile. What a pity. Those things were  _damn_  expensive. This missile met the same fate as the first, against her blade. She held her position much better during its decomposition and the plane attempted to bank right, but she cut a line directly to it as he arched up and away from her and she swung the sword upwards, in a graceful movement that severed the plane’s wing from its fuselage. 

> _“Widowmaker punching out!”_

Quite proud of herself, she wiped her hands as the disabled vehicle spun and plummeted. But sadly, her attention was fully on its descent as  _Raptor Three_  and  _Raptor Four_  thundered passed her.

_Oh. Bloody hell._

* * *

“Sir …” The man pulled away from the satellite phone and looked at the ranking agent, who was sitting on the table as the medic examined the agent’s arm, unsure of what to do with the cauterized stump. “Raptor One is down, sir. Three and Four are almost within intercept range.”

“NO!” The agent barked furiously, waving his stump around, clearly forgetting nothing was there and the man stared at it in pure horror. “Do not engage  _Echo Tango Prime_!” He grabbed the phone from the man. “DO NOT ENGAGE! The target is that  _plane_. TAKE DOWN THAT PLANE.” He shoved the device back at his underling and waved off the pointless medic as he jumped down from the table.

“Sir …” A small voice spoke from behind. “Sir?”

“What is it now?!?” Agent Smith/Johnson/Richards swung around and was met with the meek face of one of his information officers. The man shuffled, clutching the tablet against his chest, unsure of how to proceed with the Agent’s uncharacteristic anger. “What is it?” He lowered his voice. “Adams … SPEAK. Use your words.”

“Sir … I don’t know what …  ** _we_**  don’t really know what …” The young man’s voice cracked slightly as he handed the tablet to the agent rather than stutter further. It was a map, clearly a screen capture of  _Velder’s Algorithm_.

“What is this? When was this taken?” He stared down at the world map.  _Jesus Christ_. “Johnson, WHEN?”

“The alarms started coming in a minute ago, sir.” The boy scratched his head.

“Did you check the feeds? This can’t be right …” The agent protested what he was being shown. “This isn’t  _possible_  … These numbers are … They’re … Where are they?”

“It’s correct. We have  _triple_  confirmation, sir.”

“ _Oh Jesus … Not again …_ ” Mr. Smith/Johnson/Richards had no idea how to rationally respond to what he was seeing, so he swiped the satellite phone from the other man as he held it up to his ear to scream into it again as more worrisome information poured through it. 

> _Raptor Two is down. I repeat Raptor Two is_   ** _down_**.

“How many Martins do we have on the USS Stennis, corporal? How quickly can we–” 

> _Negative. Nothing is flying out of the Atlantic right now. Stennis is in lockdown._

“What the hell do you mean  _nothing_  is flying out of the Atlantic–”

“Sir? Sir?  _Sir?!_ ”

He might have snapped at his information officer again, but as he turned, he met the younger man’s gaze as the screens flickered with meteorological data.

“What is that?” He tilted his head as he looked at the mass that was growing over the ocean and spreading across the western part of Europe.

“It’s …” The man gulped. “ _A storm_.”

 

* * *

 

The next two weren’t even bothering to engage her. She turned, and was in mad pursuit within seconds. But the beasts were in full afterburner and she had to push herself again, digging deep and her divinity crackled across her skin. As the jets began to create room between themselves, she realized they were making her choose  _one_ target and she went for the  ** _right_**.

She pulled her blade and began to gain when the pilot broke and pulled his nose sharply up. She chuckled. Ah, so it would be an attempt at [Pugachev’s Cobra](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pugachev%27s_Cobra). Quite fitting it was named for a  _snake_ , but sadly, the technique relied on being  _far more maneuverable_  than your opponent, which they were  _not_. She took his bait though as she over shot him from beneath and his nose came back down, putting the jet  _directly_ behind her.

 _Sucker_.

Now, she would show him how a  _true cobra_  did it. She cut up at a ninety degree angle and he attempted to follow, but she didn’t stop there and she bent in a tight and powerful loop coming back around behind him. Never slowing in her speed, she connected her shoulder with the back of the jet with a powerful ram and the plane spun out of control. Even if he  _could_  regain it, she caused considerable damage to its structure to begin her pursuit of the  _final_  plane, chastising herself as she knew it was already in full afterburner and quite a ways ahead of her.

 _Bullocks._  

> _Uh … My Golden Wingman … you’re about to have some rather_   ** _nasty_**   _company._

 

* * *

 

“Signore!” The pilot called out and Quinlan was up and moving immediately. He leaned over the chair and stared out the cockpit window as the man pointed to the seemingly brand new thunderstorm quickly forming several miles before them. “[Dobbiamo andare in giro.](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/We%20must%20go%20around.)”

Go around? How much time would that take? Quinlan stared at the ominous black clouds and the lightning flickering violently across them …  _all of them_. 

> _No. Go_   ** _through_**   _it._

Quinlan relayed the message from their guardian angel to the pilot. “No. [Procedere in esso](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Proceed%20into%20it.).”

“ _Signore_.” The pilot protested greatly, pointing at his equipment. “I have never seen a thunderstorm of this magnitude. I will at least have to fly  _above_  it.” 

> _No._   ** _Go through it._**   _It’s not what you think it is._

Quinlan moved back to the seats to look out at the angel with his physical eyes and found the ex-governor still hunched over on the wing. The dhampir spoke  _out loud_  to him, rather than through their minds, so that everyone could hear his annoyance and reluctance.

“And what exactly  _is it then_? Flying through that will  _get us killed_.” 

> _Psh. We both know_   ** _you’d_**   _live._

**“What is it?”**  Quinlan posed the question slowly and forcefully, through gritted teeth and the angel on the wing moved finally as the dhampir caught a glimpse of his face. The angel glared at him through the window. 

> _It’s cover. It means he’s finally nutting up …_

“He? Who is  _he_?”

Michael’s body moved and his head tilted back slightly.

“Who is  _he_?” Quinlan demanded again, but some part of him already  _knew_  that answer and he didn’t really wish to hear it out loud. 

> _Quiet! Listen. Do you hear that?_

Quinlan focused and he did in fact hear something rumbling in the distance. 

> _**Ah hell, Oz.** _

“What is it?” Whatever was approaching did  _not_  sound like the Hayyoth. It was mechanical and Quinlan squinted in the distance but could see nothing. 

> _Lake Baikal. You_   ** _will_**   _be there …_

The angel met his eyes with absolute vitriol. 

> _If you_   ** _really_**   _care for her, that is._

Michael released his grip on the wing and the angel was  _gone_. Quinlan returned to the cockpit to find the pilot angling the plane up, away from the  _massive_  and  _ominous_ thunderstorm.

“Into the storm, I said. Do not make me  _remove_  you again.”

“Signore. It is  _death_.” The pilot hope to drive his point home in  _English_ , but the dhampir shook his head.

“No. It is not.” Quinlan felt goosebumps run across his skin as he already regretted what he was about to say. In all honestly, it was obvious. What Michael said made sense and what they knew of the Bible was clear.  ** _He_**   _rarely_  did  _nothing_ , and it was  _canon_  that when  ** _he_**  did, it was  _always_  substantial. “It is …  ** _God_**.”

The moment he said it, the wind picked up and vicious turbulence hit the plane.

 

* * *

 

Michael detached and he fell back, spreading his wings and pulling his sword as he  _waited_  for the manned  _weapon_  that approached. 

> _Uh … My Golden Wingman … you’re about to have some rather_   ** _nasty_**   _company._

_No shit_. Metal glinted in the distance and Michael took a deep breath, drawing upon what little borrowed strength he had left. He turned back one final time to verify that the plane headed directly into the growing storm as instructed.  _Good_. 

> _“Tally one bandit. 1 mile to Echo Tango Beta.”_

Wait …  _Beta_?!?  ** _Ah, hell no_**  …

Michael shot straight for it and as the distance between them closed in seconds, he closed his helmet and prepared for the impact. The jet banked right and in perfect unison, the angel banked  _left_. This wasn’t the most graceful of choices, but Michael doubted his ability to tail the jet in his current condition. This would get the job done. 

> _“[Fox Three. Fox Three.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAIM-120_AMRAAM&t=Y2JlYjc2NGVhZmJiODUwMDQyM2QzZDljYmQ4NjU0OTRkMGFjMDFkNCx1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) Vulture … signing off.”_

The collision was imminent and the pilot unloaded his full armament rather than  _punch out_. The two missiles rocketed past the explosion and barrelled towards the storm as both the angel and wreckage plummeted to Earth.

_Fuck._

* * *

 

“Move!” Quinlan barked at the strigoi, shoving him to the side as he tried desperately to look out the window at the very back of the plane, attempting to get a visual of what he heard approaching. When he spied  _them_ , his eyes grew wide.  _Damnation._  “Evasive maneuvers!” He shouted to the pilot, though he didn’t think it would do any good and the plane began to climb  _and_  turn to the right. “Brace for impact!” He commanded the others.

“Impact?!?” Dutch screamed back at him. “What bloody kind of  ** _impact_**?!”

“ _Ah shit_.” Fet was already pulling his seatbelt tighter as he closed his eyes. “Dis isn’t how I wanted to die!!!”

Quinlan fought the urge to close his eyes as well, and found himself grateful he didn’t, as the silver clad angel glinted in the horizon. Before he lost visual of the missiles and  _her_  entirely, he watched her fly close to one. Reaching out and taking hold of the missile, she straddled it fully as she locked her arms and legs around it and then she  _pulled_  hard in the direction of the second missile. Dark clouds enveloped the plane and turbulence hit hard as the shockwaves of the explosion rippled into them.

 

* * *

 

Michael fell and he didn’t even try to stop himself. He saw his brother fly by above and he felt himself relaxing fully as he plummeted, or at least,  _until the moment of impact_. Even after the shock of the collision with the ground passed, he remained still, breathing into the dirt, facedown. He didn’t stir for several minutes, until he heard her land beside his crater. When he finally looked up, he began to actually  _chuckle_. His growing amusement fueled him enough to roll over and come to his knees as he watched the spectacle that was his  _older brother_.

“ _Good Lord … Uhhhhhh!_ ” Ozryel was standing, but she was bent over at almost a ninety degree angle and her face was contorted with agony as she clutched her right side with  _both_  hands. “ _Fuck my life …_ ” She panted loudly. “ _Bloody hell …_ ” Her words were raspy and her heart was  _thundering_. “ _That was the fastest jet alive … Uhhhhhhhh!_ ” She stood up, took two steps and then doubled over again, gritting her teeth in pain as she tried to slow her breathing. “I’m fine. I’m fine … Nope.  _I’m definitely going to vomit_.”

Michael’s chuckle turned into a full laugh as Ozryel took a deep breath and tried to walk off her side stitch, shooting him the dirtiest look she could possibly muster. “ _Shush you!_  Don’t laugh at me!” She pointed at him accusingly before she cringed and doubled forward again. “Don’t judge me!  _I haven’t flown in_   ** _thousands of years_**  …  _Good Lord … Blasted muscles have atrophied …_ ” She forced her breath to normalize as she began to take several deep gasps, pacing around like a chicken. “You good? You ready? Ok. Let’s go.”

“I think I might need a minute actually.” Michael confessed.

“Oh good …  ** _oh thank God_**.” Ozryel exhaled dramatically before she collapsed to the ground.

 

* * *

 

**[Finder - Moderat](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1e8N6JN3AJcDS4DU8dal4X&t=OTM4YmM1N2NmOTk0NTBkYWU5NmQ3NzM5YzdiOTcwMmZmZmMxMjMzZCx1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) **

“Can you  _stop_  doing that please?” Uriel felt his very  _bone structure_  cringe as she pulsed time slower and slower  _still_. It was progressive and it seemed to be getting worse. “It’s  _really_  uncomfortable.”

“Oh. I know.” She gritted her teeth, agreeing with him fully. “Trust me, it’s  _far_  worse for me than  _you_. But … I’m afraid I can’t stop. It’s why I am  _here_.  _It’s why I had to be here_.”

“You had to be here … to slow down Heaven?” Uriel shook his head.

“In a way … Time spins like the gears of a clock. She’s  _speeding_  up Hell, and in turn Earth and in turn Heaven … and I’m trying to  _mitigate_  that effect … or we’ll  _spin_  out of control I’m afraid.”

“She?” Uriel cocked his head to the right. “Who are you talking about? What’s going on?” He decided to go the direct approach. “Where has Father gone? What is happening with the Hayyoth? Why are–”

“Father …” She looked on him with utter seriousness. “… has not gone  _anywhere_. In fact, quite the opposite, I’m afraid … He has actually gone  ** _everywhere_**.”

“Everywhere?”

“He has dispersed … so that he could  _see and experience_  everywhere … all the time. He needed to be  _everywhere_  … for any of this to work.”

“Dispersed?” Uriel refused the overly simple explanation. “I don’t follow.”

“I know.  _But you will …_ ” She assured him. “Father is  _all around us_. Even now, he is here. Trust me. He  _never_  left.”

“How do you  _know_  this? Is it because you’ve already seen all of this? You already know what I’ll ask and how you’ll answer. You already know …  _everything_.”

She smiled and took a  _very deep breath_  as the next pulse emanated from her very soul. “Yes  _and_  no, brother.  ** _Yes and no._**  This … conversation …” She waved a hand between them. “I have  _always_  known how it starts, but … and I must admit I am  _quite excited_ , that …  _I have no idea know how it will end_. And you can’t comprehend what that means …  _to something like me_ , Uriel. For the first time in my life … I am  _excited_ and I am grateful that I will get to spend my  _first moments_  as a  _free soul_  … with  ** _you_** , my brother.”

“I don’t follow.” Uriel shook his head. “And I grow weary of your  _riddles_ , Andy. Just–”

“These aren’t riddles. Not anymore, at least. I will be  _honest_  with you. You will ask questions and I will answer them. Fully and truthfully. And we will sit here, together, as I  _keep_  the wheels of time from spinning hopelessly out of control … and we will allow what needs to happen  _without us_  to happen.”

“So, you’re distracting me then?” Uriel laughed.

“Distracting? No, no. I am simply …” She winked at him. “Keeping you out of  _trouble_ until  ** _it ends_**.”

“So, what keeps me from just leaving then?” He threatened, but he knew it was pointless. The Wheel  _already_  knew what he would do.

“Answers. You wish to hear a  _story_. You wish to know what is happening. And as long as you sit there, I will tell you. I will tell you  _everything_.”

“You said until  ** _it ends_**  …” Uriel’s brows pinched furiously and his voice cracked, rich in uncertainty. “What’s going to  _end, Andy_?”

She smiled now and her face was full of absolute relief. “ ** _My sight._** ”

 

* * *

 

**[Issues - Kina Grannis](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0W85Yolr3l72QZsk9UrkqP&t=MGViZTljNmNlMjRiNmFhMjIyNjlkZDExNTRkY2FlNDJmM2RjZjU4MCx1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _I’m jealous, I’m overzealous_
> 
> _When I’m down, I get real down_
> 
> _When I’m high, I don’t come down_
> 
> _I get angry, baby, believe me_
> 
> _I could love you just like that_
> 
> _And I could leave you just this fast_

They were through the worst part of the storm and everyone had settled down for the long flight. Quinlan sat alone, staring at the tattered and worn photograph in his hands. He couldn’t help but obsess over it, as it gave him a  _reminder_  of both  _her face_  as well as  _his absence_. He noticed Dutch immediately, but not before she saw the item he quickly folded and attempted to hide in his palm.

“Yes …  ** _Mrs_**.  _Fet_?” He asked as she sat down in the seat next to him without invitation.

“You like saying that, don’t you?” She smirked.

“Saying what?”

“ ** _Mrs_**.  _Fet_.” She repeated his intonation perfectly, nudging his arm playfully with her elbow.

“What do you mean?” He feigned ignorance, but she was quite observant. Each time he said it, he actually had to bite back the grin that begged him for release.

“Your  _inflection_  on it. You put a little  _rise_  on it. Each and every time you say it.”

“I am  _happy_  for you …” He glanced through the small opening between the seats, back several rows at the snoring Ukrainian giant “ _For both of you_.”

“It’s too bad you missed it. The wedding, that is.  _It was a hell of a party._ ” He  _actually_ hadn’t missed it, had he? He had been there that day. He had broken the rules set before him to see her again, at  _any_  cost. Dutch sighed, fondly remembering her day as she pointed to the hidden object in his palm. Quinlan reluctantly opened his hand, allowing her to take it and unfold it, staring at it while she spoke. “You know …  _This_ was actually the last time we saw her. Everything seemed like it was getting back to some kind of  _normalcy_  and then she was just … poof …  _gone_  … ”

He tilted his head to the side, worried of what the implication of that statement might be, but something deep down urged him that  _that_  was very much his fault. “I … I did not miss it.” He confessed to her. “I  _was_  there that day. It was a  _lovely_  celebration.”

“What?” She coughed. “You were there that day? What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“I was …  _there_  … that day. The great hall next to the beach. I watched you and Fet dance. And I saw her there.” Quinlan held his eyes closed as he spoke. “That was  _not_ normalcy. She was  _unwell_ , Dutch.  _I saw her_.”

“You …” She swallowed hard. “Wait …  _you were watching us … like, this_   ** _whole time_**?” The implication of that seemed to embarrass her a bit and she began to squirm in her seat, glowering at him. “What did you  _see_? How often did you creep on us? When we were in private–”

“Dutch.” He tried to put her to ease. “I  _visited_  Earth only the  _once_ , and it was for a few brief minutes.”

“Oh. Ok.” Her shoulders relaxed and then he could see the gears in her head spinning and he knew more questions would follow. “Visit, huh? Only the once though? Why wouldn’t you visit more?”

“I was  _not_  permitted to  _visit_.” He shrugged. “In doing so, I went  _against_  Michael’s order. I broke his rules was  _punished_  for it.”

“Punished? How in the bloody hell do you get  _punished_  in Heaven?” Her face scrunched in confusion. “Isn’t it paradise?”

“I was put in a cell. They punish you with  _boredom_.” She snickered at his revelation, but she didn’t seem surprised by it at all. “ _Paradise_  … it is not. Perhaps to some, but … there is no happiness without … “ He peered down toward the photo before bringing his eyes back to hers. “ _Love_.” She was smiling wildy now and he felt flushed suddenly at her amusement. “What?” Did she not believe him? “It’s the truth. I swear.”

“Oh, love. Trust me. I don’t doubt it one bit. You gettin’  _nicked_  for breakin’ rules in Heaven is one of the only things I’ve heard today that makes  _total sense_.” She shook her head as she laughed out loud. If that was supposed to be an insult, he was far from insulted by it and he beamed with pride. “What’s  _prison_  like in Paradise then? Do you have HBO at least?”

“It is very …  _clean_.”

“Huh. Alright then.” She accepted his words and mulled them over as she chewed on her lower lip for a quiet moment. “It’s really kinda  _romantic_  … in like … a  _creepy and weird kind of way_.”

“Creepy?” He asked for clarification, his voice rich with concern.

“Well, I mean …” She shifted in her seat, half smiling yet half frowning as she shrugged. “ _Stalking_  your ex from beyond the grave  _is_  a bit creepy, Quinlan.”

“Ex? No.  _No_.” His brow furrowed furiously at the word  _ex_. He could care less of seeming  _creepy_  or not, but  _that word_  was …  _not true_. It was  _not_  true. But even as he refused it, looking down at the image, he knew it really was true. “It wasn’t …” He so very rarely found himself at a loss for words, and he stared down at his fingers, nervously picking at a fingernail for distraction from her accusatory eyes. “It was not over for me … It …  _is not_  over.”

“I mean …” Dutch shifted again. “If you think about it, it was a  _hell_  of a way to break up with someone, yeah?”

“What’s that?” Quinlan was genuinely confused by the brash statement. “What do you mean–”

“Nuking your own arse.” She said frankly. “And I won’t even bring up the  _domestic violence_  before–”

Quinlan swiftly interrupted her. He did  _not_  want to be reminded of the sleeper hold he had put Dawn in during their final moments  _together_. “It was  ** _never_**  my intention to …” Oh gods. “ _End things with her_.”

“Intention or not, love.” She explained it brutally for him and her words cut deep. “That was the outcome, right?” Quinlan rolled his head with annoyance as he plucked the photograph back out of her hands. “You wanted revenge, yeah? You wanted payback and you got it. You–”

“I did not do it for  _revenge_.” He snapped sharply. “There was  _no choice_  in the matter. Michael gave me  _no choice_ , Dutch.” He looked up at her. “Either I did what was needed of me …  _or_   ** _she_**   _would pay the price for all of it._ ”

“So, you knew  _all of this_  …  _back then_?” She caught his words quickly and her tone was overly accusatory. “Michael,  _Lucifer_ , Angels, Heaven, He–”

“No. No. Not all of it. No.” He shook his head. “Not what I know now. Not … “ Quinlan shifted his gaze out the window and stared into the clouds around them as he took a deep breath and confessed to Dutch what he was unwilling to tell Dawn. “I didn’t do it for  _revenge_  … I died so that she could live … “ His eyes met hers again. “He framed it as a choice, but …  _there wasn’t really a choice in those options_.”

“Well, you didn’t tell  _her_  that.” She said plainly. “She thought you died for  _your vengeance_. She thought you died for your  _wife_  …”

“But how could I tell her that?” He asked with budding desperation. Did he  _even_  need her understanding? No, he really didn’t, but her eyes made him torturously …  _shamed_. “She would have  _hated_  herself. She would have …” He glanced at the photo yet again. “I did not want to leave. It was not  _my choice_  to leave …  _any of you_.”

“Well, you  _should_  have been honest with her.” She was savage in her judgement of him and Quinlan felt it was well deserved. “Even if it hurt more …  _you should have been honest_.”

“I know.” He nodded, biting into his lower lip. “ _Wife_?” He asked, suddenly realizing what Dutch had said. He  _never_  mentioned it to any of them. He had shared it with only Dawn. “ _She told you?_ ” Was he hurt? Did he even have the right to  _feel_  hurt?

“Well …  _uh …_ ” Dutch smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Truth be told, we weren’t exactly  _sober_ though. That was  _the ONLY time_  she had  _ever_  talked about herself. It was my bachelorette party and there was …  _uh …_ ” Then there was another uncomfortable laugh as some memory seemed to embarrass her and Quinlan sat straight up in his seat. “Lots of tequila. Tequila is a terrible thing. TERRIBLE THING.” Her eyes glazed over as she looked off in the distance, seeming to stare at the back of the seat in front of them, but clearly lost in her own trail of memories.

His nervousness increased suddenly. “Wait …  _what_   ** _else_**   _did she disclose to you?_ ”

“Huh?” She turned back to him, waking up from the fugue state her memories had put her in and then she read the overly concerned look on his face and  _laughed_  heartily. “No. No. No. Nothing about  _you_. No. No. That was just a crazy  _night_.” She began to enthusiastically fish her phone from her pocket. “I have  _pictures_  of it! You want to see?!”

Quinlan waved his hand at the phone as she unlocked it and shook his head. “No. That is not necessary.” She could read the scrutiny on his face clearly as he didn’t believe her. “She didn’t tell me  _anything_  else, alright? We just talked about our  _exes_.” He did not like that word. “She talked more about her  _asshole ex-husband_ , than  _you_.  _It hurt her to talk about you. I think it hurt her to even_   ** _think_**   _about you._ ”

Though he would have  _never_  wished pain upon her, but this confession eased the ache that burned in his chest. It gave him  _hope_  that their time together was not as  _fleeting_ as he was assuming since learning the knowledge of Mr. …  ** _Elizalde_**. The seriousness of the situation was almost stifling and he smirked slightly. “I suppose I  _should_  believe you.”

“Good. Good.” Dutch smiled. “Wait …  _why_?”

Quinlan’s smile only widened further as he raised a single brow at her in preparation for the upcoming embarrassment. “For if she  _had_  told you anything, you might not have made such a  _fool_  of yourself earlier today …”

“Fool?” She hadn’t quite caught on to his statement yet and she asked for clarification. “What the hell are you on about now? I helped save our arses,  _love_.”

“ _I am referring to your statements concerning my … anatomy …_ ”

“Oh … …. …  _That_.” Her face fell. Her eyes shifted from his down to her lap and a rosy color flushed across her cheeks as she cleared her throat. She clearly wished to crawl into a hole and Quinlan shook his head at her immaturity. “You …  _uh_  …. So you heard  _that_ , did ya?” Now it was her turn to nervously play with her fingers. “That didn’t make me a  _fool_ , love. No, that made me  _an asshole_. I’m sorry.”

“ _Hmmm_.” As his smirk faded away, he stared at her and the disappointment in his face was painfully obvious to her. “If it  _was_  that important to you,  ** _you could have just asked_**.”

“ _Ewww_.” Her face contorted at even the  _thought_  of such a thing. She glanced down towards his crotch and then blushed considerably as she tore her eyes away, her hand coming to her forehead as she struggled with the discomfort of the situation. “No. That would have been terribly rude.”

“And spreading falsehoods isn’t?” He waited for her next retort, but she simply stared at him blankly and he sighed. “I kept  _hoping_  you would mention it to Abraham. I have no doubts that he would have set you straight. Rather profoundly.”

“Wait …” Her mouth frowned at the statement and her eyes darted  _down_  and then  _up_ again. It was an almost uncontrollable response to the situation. If Quinlan had been younger, it might have caused him embarrassment, but he was far too old to care any further. “The Professor knew?! When did you flash  _him_!? Wait, did he  _ask_  you?! I know Eph saw because–”

“I did not  _flash_  Abraham.” Quinlan interrupted immediately. He didn’t wish to revisit the thought of Ephraim  _stripping_  him again. A younger version of Quinlan would have gutted him for such an indiscretion. “You are aware of my past, are you not?”

“Uhhh …  _not, not really_.” While Dutch Velders was insanely smart in many ways, her ignorance on this subject was absolute. “You’re half vamp– _Angel_?” She smiled innocently.

“I was born in Italy. I was a  _gladiator_.” He explained. “I know the Professor was fond of mentioning my background to …  _well …_  everyone.”

“Oh yeah.  _That_. Yup. Knew that.” She was nodding enthusiastically. “Knew  _loads_  about that. Abe was  _your biggest fanboy_.”

“I was in the military.” She continued to nod, remembering the professor’s admiration of him. “I was a  _General_.”

“Yup. Yup.”

“I was married. I adopted a  _child_.”

“Okay?” She began to squint at him and he could see her mouth opening to question  _why_  this was important. “I don’t think I’m followi–”

“If I was …  _lacking_  … what you have  _assumed_  me to  _be lacking_  since first we met,  ** _Mrs_**.  _Fet_ , regardless of your own current ideologies,  _I would not have been a man to the Roman Empire_.” Overall, he felt particularly good to get this off his chest.

“Okay?” Good gods. Was she really this dense? The continuing confusion of her face affirmed the statement.

“I would  _not_  have been permitted  _any_  of the things I have just stated.  _Roman Law_ would have  _prevented_  me from leading the life  ** _I assure you_**  I did.” Her eyes flickered toward his crotch a third time and Quinlan rolled his head in frustration.

“ _You doubt still?!_ ” He played with her shame further. As he spoke, he began to fiddle with his belt buckle, never actually intending to carry through with the action he threatened. “I would be happy to  _show_  you if it is required for you to  _drop_  this subject– ”

“No. NO!” Her eyes grew impressively wide and her hand flew to his arm to halt his feigned motion. “I don’t. I REALLY BLOODY DON’T. I believe you. I BELIEVE YOU. I’m sorry. Case closed, alright?”

“Case closed.” He accepted her defeat on the matter. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” She looked forward and pursed her lips, then she nodded and accepted it before guilt fell across her face and she turned to him, confessing something rapidly. “I might have told  _Dawn_  you didn’t have …”

“On the roof.” He nodded. “I am well aware you did.”

“Whoops. Heh. Yeah, well, heh. Sorry about  _that_.” She said again and cleared her throat before she chuckled uncomfortably. “I guess you cleared that confusion right up, yeah?” Her eyebrow raised and she waited eagerly for him to say something. “So, uh, when  _did_  she find out? I mean …  _apparently, after all of this bloody time, I have no idea what actually happened between you two_.” It was clear Dutch  _hated_  finding out she had been in the dark over things. “How  _long_  were you two–”

Wait … did she think he was going to  _tell_  her anything? She was prying for  _details_  it seemed and Quinlan sighed dramatically, cocking his head to the right as he grew tired of the subject. “Was there something else I can help you with …  ** _Mrs_**.  _Fet_?”

“No. Not really. No.” She was lying and he waited. “I just wanted to see how you were  _doing_  after …” Her voice trailed off as she tried to read his lack of expression.

“After the battle?” He felt fine. “I feel fine. All of my wounds are healed. You needn’t worry about–”

“Not after the battle.” She explained. “ _After your little fit._ ”

“ _Hmmm_.” He glanced out the window and refused to turn back as he spoke. He didn’t wish to speak about it. “How is he?”

“Physically? Yeah. He’ll live.”

“ _Hmmm_.” He would have continued to stare out the window, hoping she would leave, had she not reached out and gripped his hand. She would never have done such a thing before, and he would not have allowed her to continue to hold it before, but as their friendship had grown considerably, he begrudgingly allowed it. Turning to face her judgemental eyes again, but he didn’t find her eyes accusatory. Instead, he found them sad. “What do you want from me, Dutch? Do you wish for me to apologize to him?” Quinlan squinted. “Because I will  _not_. I do  _not_  regret what I did. And I will  _not_  apologize for it.”

“No. I wouldn’t ask you to.” She said plainly. “And I’m not actually worried about  _him_.”

“ _I am fine._ ” He assured her with confidence.

“Honestly, I could care less how  _you_  are right now either.”

Quinlan blinked at her words. “Then  _what_  is prompting this  _visit_?” He pushed, annoyed enough now to attempt to pull his hand from her grip but she held strong.

“I wanna make sure your  _head_  is in the right place, mate.” She sucked her cheeks in and eyed him suspiciously. “I wanna make sure that  ** _when_**  we find her …  _you keep your hands to yourself and your foot …_   ** _out of your fucking mouth_**.”

Her brashness hit him hard, cutting deep and insulting ruthlessly. He sneered his response, his teeth gritting through the words. “ _I would never hurt her._ ” Regarding her quietly for a moment, he could read the intent of her face clearly. He  _had_  hurt Dawn before. Both when they  _first_  met  _and_  when they  _parted_. “ _Dutch_  …  _I …_   ** _died_**   _for her._ ”

“Exactly.  **You died**. You were gone, love.  _Boom … into a fucking mushroom cloud_. We saw the blast and she  _felt_  it.” Dutch acknowledged it. “Just because you  _died_  for her, doesn’t mean you  _own_  her. It doesn’t mean you just get to  _show_  up out of the blue and everything goes back to how it was.”

“You think me unworthy of her.” Quinlan finally pulled his hand free of the Hacker’s grip and he stared at her, unsure if he was disappointed in her or himself. “You are not different than  _he_.”

“That’s not what I am saying.” She sighed. “And no different than  _who_?”

“ _Michael_  …” Quinlan turned away, to look out into the clouds as he wondered where the archangels were at the moment. “He dislikes me also. In his eyes …  _I am unworthy of her …_ ”

Dutch chuckled at the statement and he turned to regard her  _amused_  face with shock. He was admitting something he had  _hoped_  she would be understanding about and he was  _actually_  expressing his feelings openly and she was …  _laughing at him_?

“Oh, all you boys …” Her eyes flicked down towards his crotch and back up. This time, it was  _very much_  on purpose. This new information about his anatomy seemed to give her some kind of ammunition that she could now use against him. “You’re  _all the bloody same_ , aren’t you?”

“Pardon?” His head cocked left.

“Who’s  _worthy of her_  … isn’t up to  _him_.”

“ _He_  is her  _father_.” Quinlan countered. Did she not already realize this fact?

“He is her  ** _Grandfather_**   _… kind of_. But whatever.” Dutch corrected, shaking her head at him as if she was chastising him. “But it doesn’t matter. It isn’t up to  _him_. It isn’t up to Gus. Hell, it ain’t even up to  _you_.” Dutch explained as she began to stand from her seat, seemingly done with the conversation. “It’s  _only_  up to her. And  _when_  we find her and  ** _if_**   _she_  forgives  _you_  …” She leaned forward in her stance and poked him violently in the chest with her index finger. “ _She’ll decide who is worthy of her_. She decides. No one else. Are we clear here?”

“Yes.” Quinlan nodded slowly, annoyed, but ultimately appreciative the woman’s words.

“And …” She wasn’t quite done with the lecture and Quinlan hoped she wouldn’t poke him again. “You are  _not_  a  _cuck_. You haven’t earned the right to even call yourself a  _cuck_  yet.” Quinlan blinked innocently at the statement and he felt like he wanted to argue with her. There were legal documents in place that … “Regardless of what  _you_ had  _me_  forge, she isn’t your wife  _unless_  you ask her to be …  _and she says yes_.”

_Fair enough._

**[Fix You - Canyon City](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3ZTCvMqkW3Hqxap4dqTTpR&t=NGNhZTY5NWRjNDZjOWNiZjYzMzg1ZGQzMWYzNjEwYTAyOThjZTQ5NSx1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _When the tears come streaming down your face_
> 
> _When you lose something you can’t replace_
> 
> _When you love someone but it goes to waste_
> 
> _Could it be worse?_

She was about to leave him and he unfolded the photo again. “Is it selfish that I  _wished_ …  _that I_   ** _hoped_**  … she would not have … “ What was the right word? He cringed as several moved across his mind and he settled on a vague one. “Moved on?”

“Is it selfish?” She repeated and took a deep breath. “Hell yeah, it’s selfish.” Quinlan’s shoulders fell as he accepted defeat in the conversation, but she spoke again and this time when he met her eyes, he found them understanding. “ ** _But it’s also very human._** ”

“Did she …  _love_  him?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to even hear the answer. “I mean …  _does she love him_?”

“That’s not a question I can answer, Quinlan.”

“ _Hmmm_.” He nodded and turned back to the window. There were still several hours left of the flight and he hoped to spend them in peaceful solace.

“But … “ She lingered. “For what it’s worth … she didn’t stay with him.  _That day_  …” She pointed to the photo. “You said you were there? I think she  _felt_  you.”

“I know. I know … I  _needed_  to see her.” He had the same impression and the guilt overwhelmed him. His brows furrowed. The timing was far too perfect. “ _It wasn’t over for me_.”

“But that’s exactly what I mean, love. It was  _that day_  …” Dutch smiled at him. “She ran off and  _sold her bloody soul_  to the  ** _actual fucking devil_**  … for promises of  _you_ , mate. Not for Gus.” Her words were beautifully reassuring. “So now, we just gotta show her it worked.”

She turned to leave again as he shoved the photo roughly into his front pocket so he could forget it for now. It was very same pocket that he had kept his  _last_  momento. “Dutch.” He called to her before she could escape and he smiled. “Congratulations. I am  _happy_  for you.”

“Thanks, love.” She returned the smirk, nodding with pride.

“ _All three of you_.” His smirk turned almost sinister as it was his turn to glance down at  _her body_  now.

“What the  _hell_  …” Her smile vanished. Her mouth fell agape and she slid back into the chair, leaning over to him as she poked him violently again, whispering as loud as possible while glancing back through the seats to verify her husband was still snoring happily. “ _Not a bloody word! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?_ ”

“Vasily does not know?” He questioned immediately, though her reaction was quite clear.

“No. Of course not. You think I would  _be here_  if he bloody knew?!?  _Uuuuh._ ” She slouched considerably and brought her hand to her forehead, pinching her brow between her fingers.

“This is not …  _good news_?” He tilted his head at her reaction.

“Honestly … I don’t know. We didn’t even know if we wanted kids. We said we’d talk about it in a couple of years. We …” Dutch shook her head, the disappointment was clear. “I forgot a couple of pills and  _… bam._  This was  _so_   ** _not planned_**.”

“Oh. But … why have you not told him?” Quinlan wasn’t sure what the implication of her reaction was. “Do you plan to  _not keep it_?”

“What?” She shot him another look of shock as her mouth fell agape for the second time. “What?! Why would you say that? I … I …” Hesitating, she clearly found herself incapable of actually answering the question. “I … I don’t know. I … But I don’t think  _now’s_  the right time. With everything that’s happening … What if we  _fail_?”

“ _Dutch,_  Either the world will end or it will not. I do not think this  _situation_  will give way to  _anything_  in between those options. And in either case, I suggest preparing for the  _best_  outcome.”

“I don’t think … I’d make a good mum either.” Her face contorted with the confession. “I’m a little  _bratty_ , if you haven’t noticed. Responsibility isn’t really  _my thing._ ”

“Trust me when I say … We are rarely the ones who choose responsibility.  _It_  is the force that chooses  ** _us_**.” He shrugged. “You have been absolutely  _vital_  in saving the world,  _twice_  now. And after having  _just_  experienced the  _lecture_  you inflicted upon me …” He grinned at her. “I have no doubts, should you choose it, you will excel.”

“ _Hmmm_.” She poked at her belly with her index finger and pouted slightly. “I guess two people know now. The Nazi knew too. Creeper. You guys got some, like,  _Baby Radar_  in those strigoi noggins?”

“No.” He chuckled. “Just  _very good hearing._ ”

“Hearing?”

“It has a  _heartbeat_ ,  ** _Mrs_**.  _Fet_.”

“A heartbeat?” She doubted his statement and looked back at her stomach with horror, poking it again. “Ugh.  _Already_?”

“Yes.” Quinlan leaned over slowly, closed his eyes and listened carefully. “A very  _strong_ one.”

“ _Hmmm_.” She sighed. “I guess that’s good.”

“Also, I doubt the  _lapdog_  and I are the only ones. It is quite likely that the  _Bear_  and the  _Wolf_  know as well. I am unsure how  _acute_  their hearing is, but…”

“Damn.  _Dammit_.”

“Since you afforded me unoffered advice, allow me to give you the same.” He glanced back at his sleeping friend. “You  _should_  tell him. He should  _not_  be the very last to know.”

“I know. But … No.” She shook her head. “Not right now. He’s got enough to worry about and we need to stay focused… there’s so much more at stake than just  _me and_ …” She poked herself. “It.”

“Perhaps …” Quinlan sighed. He didn’t want to make the offer, but he knew he should. “You two should stay in Rome. When we land, I will have my people take care of you both. You can flourish.”

“No.” Dutch shook her head. Her word was firm and brave. Quinlan could tell that her mind was made up. “If I wasn’t here, this plane would be in tiny pieces all over the ocean bottom.” This statement was likely fact. She had kept them hidden from digital eyes. “And Dawn’s  _family_. Besides …  _there needs to be a world left for us to be able to flourish in_.”

“Indeed.” He had made the offer and he would not push for her to accept it, because he  _knew_  he would need her. He knew he needed them all.

“Don’t tell  _him, ok?_ ” She poked him in the arm once and he nodded to her request. “I didn’t mean to bother you. You can get back to your …” She waved a hand at him. “ _Your moping_.”

“Dutch.” His hand was on her arm, halting her retreat for the third time. “You said … you had pictures?” His eyes were a strange mix of sadness and hope and he smiled at her. Perhaps he didn’t wish to spend the rest of the flight alone after all. “ _Of your … Women’s Party?_ ”

“You really wanna see ‘em?” She asked for confirmation as she fished her phone from her pocket. “It was a crazy night …”

“Yes …” Nodding, he smiled, displaying an eagerness that was unlike  _the old_  him. “I would. Very much so.”

 

* * *

 

**[Sweet Little Lies (Epic Trailer Version) - J2, Midian](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6gyduVw0pvZGiy1W8vw7lL&t=MTRkN2RjNzgwMjBlNmQ4ZmUyZjU0NDhhMzdjODJlYmUwODQzYTk0Nix1RDl5WUU1RA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170242319993%2Fchapter-116-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _Tell me lies_
> 
> _Tell me sweet little lies_
> 
> _(Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies)_
> 
> _Oh, no, no you can’t disguise_
> 
> _(You can’t disguise, no you can’t disguise)_

The man approached and waited nervously in the doorway for her acknowledgement and subsequent permission to enter. The woman peered at her  _worker_  though the very narrow slit in her [niqāb](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niq%C4%81b), which revealed  _only_  her black eyes and dark skin to the rest of the world.

“[نعم فعلا؟](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/Yes%3F)” 

> _Yes?_

“[لقد وصلنا إلى الغرفة الخارجية](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/We%20have%20reached%20the%20outer%20chamber.)” He stammered. 

> _We have reached the outer chamber._

“[جيد.](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/Good.)” She nodded her approval to the underling. 

> _Good._

“[هل نمضي قدما؟](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/Do%20we%20proceed%3F)” 

> _Do we proceed?_

“[لا تلمس أي شيء … حتى الآن. هكذا. قريبا جدا](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/No.%20%20Do%20not%20touch%20anything%20%E2%80%A6%20yet.%20%20Soon.%20%20Very%20soon.).” Her words were firm and forceful. 

> _No. Do not touch anything … yet. Soon. Very soon._

She spoke as she pulled a necklace out from its hidden place under her Arab garb.

“[إعداد المعدات. سوف اقول لكم متى خرق. سنعمل بسرعة. سيكون لدينا دقائق فقط.](https://translate.google.com/#en/ar/Prepare%20the%20equipment.%20%20I%20will%20tell%20you%20when%20to%20breach.%20%20We%20will%20work%20fast.%20%20We%20will%20only%20have%20minutes.)” 

> _Prepare the equipment. I will tell you when to breach. We will work fast. We will only have minutes._

The man bowed and retreated as she turned to her companion. Unhooking the chain, she handed the small, glass globe that hung on the end of it to her blonde male companion. “Are you prepared for the  _fun_  part …  _Sun King_?”

The blonde man swallowed hard as he gingerly accepted it from her offering hand, staring at the tiny glass globe and the single drop of liquid that rolled around within it.


	95. 11.7 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, but there WILL be a part 8 to Chapter 11. It was going to be just ONE big section, but it was more 35 pages and I wasn’t even done. Normal sections are 8-12 pages.

**[Wings - Hurts](https://open.spotify.com/track/6PAZ0CFnPHWumSQxOvbYOw) **

> _Say you’ll catch me when I fall_
> 
> _Wrap your wings around my body_
> 
> _When I’m lost in the storm_
> 
> _And I’m calling_

 

“Oz …” Mike huffed from behind, but she made no indication in her flight that she heard him.  

> _Oz. Please. I need to … I can’t …_

He tried through voice and then he tried through their connection, but again, she was distracted. She did not hear him. What the hell was she doing? Her head was tilted at a strange angle and she was staring up into the night sky. _Wait … was she stargazing?!_

“ _Oz_!” He screamed again before his body gave out fully and he began to free fall towards the _Earth_ , plummeting through the rain clouds like a rocket. He closed his eyes when he expected to slam against the ocean’s surface, _but she had him_ , catching him and grabbing his right wrist with both of her hands.

“Michael! What on _Earth_ happened?!” Her wings took large swallows of air as she kept them in no more than ten feet from the water’s surface. “Are you alright?!?”

“I was _calling_ to you …” He tried _not_ to be emotional, but he had _never_ felt so weak and helpless in his life. “I CALLED TO YOU! _What were you doing?!_ ”

“I was … **_preparing_**.” She was curt with her answer and he _knew_ something else was up. She was usually _never_ so short with _any_ response. “Can you fly or not?”

“I …” He wanted to say _yes_ , but he didn’t know if he could, and there was no point in lying to her. She would know. “I just need to take a short break …”

“Nope. No more breaks. No more charging. I apologize, but we haven’t the time.” She scooped him up into her arms like a child, holding him tight and close to her heart. “You will _rest_ within my arms, brother.”

“No, Oz! I don’t need _you to carry me!_ ” He was more embarrassed now than he has _ever_ been, but he was unable to fight her. “Please, don’t … _please …_ ”

“Your ego will have to take a backseat today, I’m afraid.” She held him tighter and resumed the flight, heading back above the ominous clouds and rain. “Don’t worry, _Golden One_ … I won’t tell anyone.”

“ _Thank you_.” Michael felt as if this was some kind of karmic punishment suddenly, as they had threatened Quintus with this same fate, had they not? He could not believe he was being carried to Siberia … _like a baby_.

“Well … Ok. Ok. Ok. I gotta be honest here … ” She grinned madly. “ _I’m definitely telling Raphael_.”

 

* * *

 

“[Signore, è molto bello vederti.](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Sir%2C%20it%20is%20very%20good%20to%20see%20you.)” Antonio greeted him with a firm and _uncharacteristic_ hand shake, his voice flush with genuine relief as Quinlan walked down the ramp to the black, armoured SUVs. George and Fet followed him per his instructions, and the rest stayed with the plane while it was being refueled and the pilot made the necessary arrangements for the next leg of their trip, much to the Hacker’s dismay..

Diverting from their planned destination, the plane had landed in a small unmanned airfield on the outskirts of Rome; one which Quinlan had often used as a backup option. The military, no doubt, was waiting for them across Rome at their original destination and now they had at least an hour to kill until the journey could continue.

The storm had provided ultimate coverage for them to sneak across the ocean undetected and now it was in its last throes of existence. Though the rain and lightning ceased half an hour ago, the wind and the dark clouds had not retreated and he did not expect they would. _At least not the wind_ …

Dutch’s jamming equipment had not just masked them, but it had also ceased _all_ communication to and from the plane, and while Quinlan would have preferred to have Ferraro bring weapons to the airfield, landing in one piece was well worth the cost. He hoped the man would be waiting here and _he was_ , with two SUVs and enough room for ten individuals. _Well trained_. Still reliable and trustworthy. Quinlan was proud of him. He watched the boy grow before him and he never expected that Antonio would make a viable replacement for his father as Quinlan’s emissary, but he had been pleasantly surprised by him, time and time again.

“ _Antonio_. It is good to see you as well.” He acknowledged his _friend_ as he removed his harness and sword, sliding into the backseat. “ _Take me home_.”

“Sir …” The Italian man pointing to the plane and specifically at the woman who hung her body out of the door, glaring at him still. “I was expecting ten?”

“We are not staying …” Quinlan explained and the other people piled into the car, Ferraro taking the front seat. “We only require … **_supplies_**.”

The drive into the city was _nearly_ uneventful, save one roadblock on the main freeway. As the SUV slowed for examination, the driver rolled his privacy-tinted window down and spoke with the soldier with familiarity. “[Ciao Edoardo!](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Hello%20Edoardo!)”

“[Ciao!](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Hello!)” The military man smiled back.

“[Cosa sta succedendo?](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/What%20is%20going%20on%3F)” The driver poked.

“[C'è un avvertimento su una possibile minaccia terroristica. Ci è stato chiesto di verificare la presenza di sospetti nei veicoli.](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/There%20is%20warning%20of%20a%20possible%20terrorist%20threat.%20%20We%20have%20been%20asked%20to%20check%20for%20suspects%20in%20vehicles.)” The soldier warned. “[Dovresti stare attento guidando. Consiglierei di rimanere dentro per il giorno successivo o due](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/You%20should%20be%20careful%20driving%20around.%20%20I%20would%20recommend%20staying%20inside%20for%20the%20next%20day%20or%20two.), Alessandro.”

“[Ah, grazie per l'avvertimento](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Ah%2C%20thank%20you%20for%20the%20warning.).”

The soldier nodded and leaned slightly into the car as Mr. Fet attempted to melt lower into his seat. “ _Uh oh_.” There was no doubt that the clipboard the soldier carried had pictures of the giant Ukrainian in it.

The soldier caught a glimpse of the dhampir in the back seat and apologized immediately for such an intrusion. “[Scusa per l'inconveniente, signor Sertorius.](https://translate.google.com/#en/it/Apologize%20for%20the%20inconvenience%2C%20Mr.%20Sertorius.)” Quinlan nodded once back to the soldier and he stepped away from the car, waving them through without _any_ scrutiny.

“What da hell?” Fet sat back up straight. “Dey just lettin’ us through?” He eyed the other cars as they drove past. Every vehicle was being stopped _and_ searched, their occupants forced to exit _and_ watch.

“New York maybe be _your_ city, Mr. Fet, but this one is **_mine_**.” Quinlan chuckled lowly. “Welcome to **_Rome_**.” 

* * *

**  
[An Ending, a Beginning - Dustin O’Halloran](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4jF5FDfT8v4Ppn11TnGlok&t=NGQ5NzY3YTA0YjczNTQyYmVjNzk4Mjg0NzE5MjRkZGU3YjViNmRmYiwzS2ZPbElTQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170469961458%2Fchapter-117-sacrifice&m=1) **

He left George and Fet downstairs, instructing his men to take them to the sub-basement ‘ _supply room_ ’ and take as much as they could carry and more. He instructed his men to give the Ukrainian anything he wished from the vast stash of weapons and explosives and then he made his way upstairs. As he walked through the lobby, _half_ destroyed and _half_ in the process of being rebuilt, he stopped for a moment and marvelled at the current state of _his_ elevator, or lack thereof.

“It will be fixed next week.” Antonio apologized. “It took extra time to get the permits for the _crane_ use. It is very …” He looked around. “Impressive.”

“What is?” Quinlan asked for clarification.

“How much _destruction_ such a _tiny thing_ is capable of.” Antonio actually _grinned_ at his words and Quinlan fought the urge to do the same.

“Indeed.”

“If you are curious, Sir, I can have the video footage of that day played back for you.”

He actually was curious, but there was no time now. “It is fine, Antonio. I _will_ watch it later.” Quinlan assured him. Taking the stairs, he found himself proceeding slowly up to his _home_. He wasn’t entirely sure what was driving this reluctance, but once he was before the front door, he paused once again. The last time he left _his home_ , he assumed he would _never_ return. He had looked forward to _his end_ , but now, an incredible relief rushed across his heart as he reached for the handle and he was so very thankful to be back …

He entered his home and he found it very much the same he left it, albeit somewhat messier. Specifically, there was human food strewn across _his_ counter and dirty glasses in _his_ sink. Grumbling, he cringed as the rings of dried blood in their bottoms only hinted at _one_ person leaving them there. _Damn Lap Dog_. 

His eyes crawled over the human food and he inhaled their smells. A half finished cappuccino, containing milk now rancid and pungent to his sensitive nose, and a half eaten croissant. He could still make out the tiny bite mark on its edge … such a _tiny bite mark_.

 _Focus, Quintus_.

Resisting the urge to clean it all, he moved up the stairs. He needed to get _his_ weapons and get back to the plane. The road block had eaten considerable time and now he just needed to … _hurry_.

He stopped at the top of the stairs as her smell hit him squarely in the face. It danced all around the area and he stared at the object from which it emanated: his unmade bed. Only half of it had been used and it was the half upon which he had normally slept.

_Focus, Quintus._

He approached the closet and punched in his code, 0618, but the door responded with a disagreeable beep accompanied with a flashing red light upon the keypad. What? He tried his number again and it refused him … again. He pinched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. She had changed **_his_** code. 0618 had been Tasa’s birthday. It had been the day her and Sura were taken from him. The day he burned down Rome. Given the circumstances, he fully accepted that if the scenarios were reversed, he probably would have changed it as well.

In any case, he already knew what she had changed it to. He typed in the four numbers, the same code she had used on her phone, and the door unlocked with a click.

_These numbers represented the date of his death._

Two of his guns, some ammunition, and _his gladius_ were missing, as well as some of the other clothing _items_ , but what he came for was still here. He felt whole again as he pulled the under-arm holsters across his back and nestled two of _his_ micro-uzi’s into their holsters.

**[Lag Fyrir Ömmu - Ólafur Arnalds](https://open.spotify.com/track/7I69gCPmNtmwNsjMpqTg2o) **

Grabbing a duffel, he shoved the extra guns and ammo into it before heading back towards the stairs, but the bed caught his eye one more time, and the smell wafting off of the sheets distracted him fully. 

As the bag slid from his shoulder, he approached it wearily, assuring himself he was just going to make the bed quickly to stifle the aroma that floated off of it, but as he pulled the top sheet across, her smell hit him hard and he found himself powerless against it. He melted into the embrace of the covers laden with _her_ rich, angelic scent. Quinlan clenched the blankets in tight fists and pulled them against his body as he curled into a tight ball.

In this moment of utter weakness, he buried his face into _his_ pillow … _into her bouquet_ … and he struggled to remain composed.

Just a moment here, while he _broke_. What would it hurt?

**_Just one more moment here …_ **

****

* * *

******[Orphan - Vaults](https://open.spotify.com/track/14Eb8N1fSPuhroCWAwtq2v) **

> _Thrown into the fire like a widow’s charm_
> 
> _I step into the role as the veil it burns_
> 
> _I just wanted to believe in something beautiful_
> 
> _Hunger by a streetlight I’ll see no more_
> 
> _The apple of your eye was a falling star_
> 
> _I just wanted to believe in something beautiful_

 

“So, you’re saying they’re **_soulmates_**?” Uriel asked for qualification, interrupting Sandalphon’s meandering tale.

“No. No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head. “Well … They weren’t _exactly_ soulmates. At least not in the strictest sense of _that_ word. You see, they weren’t **_MADE_** for each other. They weren’t _born_ without _the freedom to love_ whomever they wish. But rather, they just wholly complement what _the other one_ has always _lacked_.”

“What do you mean _lacked_?” He squinted at the word.

“ ** _An other._** ” She explained. “That bitter emptiness, that _insatiable ache_ , of being a _Hayyoth_ without an **_other_**. You see, _this_ left each of them with matching holes carved into their very souls. And it was beautiful that each other’s voids were just precisely the shape of the _other_. One spotted and one striped. One gold and one silver. One made from the Left and one made from the Right.”

“So you set up this _game_ for them to find each other?”

“No. _That_ description is too simplistic. It lacks the nuance necessary to understand what occurred.” She sighed at his overly practical nature. “You see, brother, it _had_ to be a push and pull between them. It _had_ to be a give and take.”

“Not a _game_ then.” He interpreted her words perfectly, as she already knew he would. “You set up a **_dance_**.”

“Like you have _always_ said, everything is a dance. Fighting is a _dance_. Love is a _dance_. Life itself. Existence.” She smiled. “I had to find a partner who would both challenge _and_ surrender … _to her_.” She spun her cup. “I had to find a partner who would could both defeat _and_ be defeated … _by her_.” She closed her eyes, struggling to embrace _hope_ rather than _fear_. The Gladiator was _so much better_ at _hope_ than she was … _than anyone was_. “I had to find a partner that **_she_** would deem worthy of her _love_. _Someone that could_ **_prove worthy_** _of it_ , regardless of the personal cost.”

“She sounds … _demanding_?” Uriel quipped.

“No more so than _Honoria_ , I suppose.” The statement was made to sting him and he responded with an uncharacteristic glare. “I _had_ to find her an equal. Equal in _strength_. Equal in _determination_ and … _most importantly_ … equal in **_defiance_**. And let me tell you, it did not prove an easy task. I had to search for _him across_ time. Countless futures. Countless possibilities.”

“But what about _him_ , Andy?” Uriel asked. “You said _personal cost_ … What about what _Quintus_ wanted? Or what he deserved? I’ve met _him_. I … “ He hesitated as he didn’t wish to actually admit what he would say next and she understood why. He was _Honoria’s_ son, but he was also _Sempronius’_. “ _I like him._ **_I like him a lot actually_**. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserves your meddling–”

“Uriel …” She shook her head and closed her eyes, seeming to remember something bothersome, something disgusting, something painful. Her face contorted with these memories, with these _visions_. “I have _seen_ … **_I have witnessed_** such unsatisfying and _tortuously_ unwarranted fates which awaited him **_without_** her. Countless timelines, over and over _and over_. Endings with agony and sadness and … _worthlessness and loneliness_. I have seen him without her, without even the _promise_ of her, without the _fate_ of her. Each time, it ends the same. He gives his life for _mankind_ , over and over _and over_. Fearlessly, courageously, vengefully, and entirely without **_LOVE_** , brother. Every fate without _her_ was … **_lacking fundamental purpose_**. It was almost mechanical in natural. I watched as the _Seventh_ shard of Ozryel took his head _or_ corrupted his body and mind _or_ crushed _every ounce of strength from him_ like he was nothing more than a god damn cockroach. **_No, brother._** **_No._** In fact, he _deserves better than that._ Never doubt that _this story_ … this _timeline_ … this choice I make for _them_ … this _respect_ that I afford  _him_ … is anything less than a chance at the happiness I feel **_he_** truly deserves.”

“I didn’t mean to imply …” He could see the passion that inflamed in her eyes and his words trailed off.

“Neither one _would have_ or _could have_ been happy with anyone less … _extraordinary_.” She chuckled. “And do not assume him completely innocent. Do not assume that he did not rush into this without _begging for it first_. He is just as much at fault for his own fate as _I am_ , brother. Even Michael tried for months to dissuade him in fact, did he not?”

“Heh. He is like _his mother_ in that way.” He smiled slightly before clearing his throat as he forced the twinkle in his eye away. “ _Defiant_ , I mean … that is …”

“Yes! And that was the challenge in and of itself, my brother. How does one _manipulate_ the most _defiant_ of souls?”

It was a rhetorical question, but he shrugged and offered a comical answer regardless. “Blackmail? Extortion?”

“The simple answer is … _you don’t_. You don’t control _them_. You can’t. They are _free_ souls. So instead, you change the world around them so that their defiance in turn drives their actions. Their pain, their loss, their love, and their determination is what you have to use to guide them.”

“See …” He shook his head and bit into his lower lip in dismay. “You talk about _control_ as if it were _freedom_. You use words like _guide_ , but really you are just _shaping_ the outcome you want. That is the _opposite_ of _freedom_ , Andy.”

“No. You are missing the point. _Freedom_ …” She spun her cup. “… is why any of this was even possible. Freedom, Uriel. I know you understand this **_need_**.”

“Don’t make assumptions about–”

She interrupted him, as she _knew_ he had already chose to _fall_ a long time ago, the moment he chose _love_ over _duty_. “Freedom to _live_ … to _want_ … to _choose_ … to _feel_ and, of course, **_to love_** … whomever we wish. And …” She reached for his hand and he sat in silence as she took it, looking up into his eyes. She beamed as she waited for _him_ to finish her sentence as she already knew he would. “And?”

 **_“And the freedom to Fall.”_**  

 

 

* * *

  **[Creep - Kina Grannis](https://open.spotify.com/track/7BRwh1bemr9rFMDeTbcy5S) **

> _You’re just like an angel_
> 
> _Your skin makes me cry_
> 
> _You float like a feather_
> 
> _In a beautiful world_
> 
> _And I wish I was special_
> 
> _You’re so fuckin’ special_
> 
> _But I’m a creep_

 

The plane was already on its way to their Siberian destination and Quinlan sat in silence, alone again. He held his new blade in his hand and stared at the bone handle as he remembered taking his friend’s head.

“Have you given it a name yet?” Barqan stood in the aisle and asked.

“In fact I have.” Quinlan had actually given the sword’s name quite a bit of thought on the flight to Rome. “ _Her_ name is [Devoratrix](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Devoratrix.).” _Devourer_.

“Fitting name. I hope it pleased you?” The _marid_ slipped into the aisle seat on the other side of the row and stared at his creation. “Did it meet your expectations?”

“You could have warned me of its … _ability_.” Quinlan was pleased, but he still did not feel in a charitable mood towards the Djinn.

“I thought you knew, Prince of Snakes!” Barqan laughed. “You said you were familiar with the Celestial Blade. Was this an exaggeration?”

“I …” Quinlan glared at him. Yes. He had implied that. “I have held the Celestial Blade but … _Fine_.” He had held the blade, but thinking back on it, he had _never_ actually used it. The Djinn waited and Quinlan rolled his head in annoyance at his presence. “Yes. It did please me. Thank you.”

“Good. Good.” Barqan shifted in his seat and Quinlan could read the body language easily. The Black King wished to discuss something he was assuming would be _unpleasant_.

“What do you want?”

“Prince …” Barqan looked at him and his brows pinched with seriousness. “I …”

“Just out with it … _or leave me be_. I am currently not the mood for smalltalk.” Quinlan sighed.

“I want to make sure you are _prepared_ to do what you must.” Barqan said rapidly and confidently, tilting his jaw towards the blade as he spoke. “To do what is … _necessary_.”

“ _Necessary_?” Quinlan was _not_ in the mood for _another_ lecture this soon, especially not from someone who had yet to re-proven his loyalty. “I do not follow.”

Barqan pointed across the aisle, at the metal part of the sword. “What will be _necessary_ for … _survival_. For … _victory_.”

“I do not plan to _lose_.” Quinlan tilted his head as he fully understood the implication behind the _marid’s_ word, but he sneered and simply asked the _Djinn_ to be direct with it. “But if there is something else on your mind, I challenge you to actually _speak it_ , rather than dance around your actual intention.”

“Very well.” Barqan took a deep breath. “I question your reserve to do what **_will_** be required of you next, Prince.”

“ _Required_?” Quinlan laughed off the statement. “You make assumptions that hope is gone–”

“Little Bear told me what you found at that _cabin_.” Barqan looked into his eyes as he shook his head. “We _both_ know what … _who_ … awaits us in Siberia, Pri–”

“No. **No.** ” Quinlan’s jaw clenched and his lip curled up as he interrupted, moving to put the sword away. “ _We know nothing yet._ ”

“Quintus.” Barqan tried a fatherly tone with him, but the dhampir refused still. “We _know_ –”

“WE KNOW _NOTHING_ YET. Return to your seat. Leave me in peace now.” He was _done_ with this conversation as he faced forward, opting to try and ignore the _marid_ , who continued to pry still.

“You are _not_ an irrational _child_. As much as you wish to refuse it.” Barqan sighed again. “You are more practical than that … and you have _understood_ the very need for **_this_** … many times in your long life …”

“The need for ‘ _this_ ’?” Quinlan found it impossible to ignore his words and what he was _implying_. “And _what exactly is …_ ‘ ** _this’_**?!”

“The need for **_sacrifice_** , my lord.” Barqan’s voice cracked slightly. “The need to do what is _necessary_ … for the greater good. For the survival of this world–”

“ ** _Greater good_**?” Quinlan laughed and this time met the Djinn’s eyes. “I have done what is for the _greater good_ my entire life. I have given _and given …_ **_and given_**. I am sorry, but I will give _no more_.”

“You were _chosen_ to give, because you have the strength for it. You have always been destined–”

“Your words are horseshit.” Quinlan cut him off with rash vulgarity. “Do not spout nonsense to me about _destiny_ , _coward_. I doubt you even understand the meaning of … **_sacrifice_**.”

There was silence and Barqan picked at his fingers nervously. Assuming he had won the _discussion_ , Quinlan turned to finish sheathing the blade when the _Djinn_ spoke again.

“I understand **_sacrifice_** , my lord. Better than most, in fact.” The _marid’s_ voice was monotone. “Her name was _Sathariel_.”

“What? _Another lover?_ ” Quinlan scoffed at his attempt. “Please do not attempt to belittle–”

“ _My daughter_.” Barqan stated. “Her soul was purged from existence before my very eyes, using the very shard you now hold in your grip.”

“I am …” The content of the Djinn’s words _struck_ Quinlan hard. “ _Apologies_.” There was a moment of lingering silence and the dhampir waited as the Djinn breathed deeply.

“I am not as strong as you, Prince.” He confessed as he looked up, shame painted across his dark face. “I could not stop them. They took her from me _so that others would live_ … so that _I_ would survive and thrive … _for my people_. I … I understand **_sacrifice_** , my lord.”

“Perhaps …but be honest with me now, _Black King_.” Quinlan leaned forward, squinting into the _Djinn’s_ eyes to read any possible reaction. “If it _had_ been in your power to stop them. If you _had_ been strong enough … _Would you have? Or would you have done what you are asking me to do now?_ ”

“My lord, sometimes the _real show of strength_ is to accept that _you_ are the chosen one who _must_ proceed … who must live … _alone_. I know you may not wish to hear it, but you _can_ find love again. This situation only lends itself to _that_ fact even more. Do you not see? You have lost before and you have been given again–”

“ _Do not_ trivialise what she means to me.” Quinlan sneered. “ _This situation_ … _her_ … there will _never_ be another like her again … _not to me_. Of this, I am more certain than I have ever been.”

“Quintus …”

“Leave me.”

“If **_hope_** for her is already gone, then all that is left now is **_vengeance for her loss_** and the subsequent and bitter necessity of this **_ sacrifice_** that must follow it. I beg that you consider giving the rest of the world a fighting chance.”

_Hope … Vengeance … Sacrifice …_

“Do not worry.” Thomas was standing before them, seemingly on his way to the bathroom located in the back of the plane. The strigoi looked much better after Quinlan had delivered nutrients to him. “He will do _whatever is necessary, whatever it takes_ , **_as he always has_**. Isn’t that _right_ , **_Invictus_** …” As the Nazi spoke, Quinlan detected a hint of _animosity_ , _judgement, and disgust_ in the German’s voice. Its presence caused Quinlan to tilt his head at the strigoi. “ ** _Unfortunately for her._** ” Did this creature _really_ care for her?

No further words were exchanged and as Thomas continued to the restroom, Barqan returned to his seat, and Quinlan looked solemnly at the partially sheathed sword, gingerly touching the edge of the exposed part of the blade’s edge as he felt the plane angling down for their final _descent_ …

 ** _Sacrifice_**? _The Greater Good?_

Why was this always his responsibility? The cost for it was always the same. His life. His love. His happiness. _Him_.

And now, the Djinn’s words echoed within him and he considered everything that he had been forced to give up … for _the greater good_. Nothing made sense. The Wheel had lied if it was _his_ fate to … **_sacrifice_** , yet again, as he had _always_ done before.

**_No. Absolutely not. Not again. In fact …_ **

## Never again. 

 

* * *

**[Blackout - Charlotte OC](https://open.spotify.com/track/3o7FxQBVhnjCfi8TY0Hbo7) **

> _Can you reach to me now? ‘cause I’ve fallen in_
> 
> _And I’m caught in your wake, it’s so hard to swim_

 

“Father should have _never_ made _that thing_! It has corrupted _you_ just like _that bitch_ corrupted _Lucifer_!”

Gabriel pushed Raphael’s button and that was the moment the fight was over. Raphael was done playing. He needed to get to Earth, with or _without_ Gabriel, and as he drew upon the very depths of his divine well, he cringed when his brother screamed in agony over the divinity that coursed through both of them. The massive angel fought it, but Raphael did not stop and his brother _fell_ to his knees, his body shaking violently. Raphael did not wish it to have to go this far and he was shameful for the pain he inflicted.

“ _I am so sorry, Rael_.” The indigo child’s voice cracked. “You _cannot_ win. _You simply …_ **_cannot_**.” Gabriel clenched, but his sword fell from his grip. Control was lost and victory was granted. The Indigo Child began to pull his brother’s armour away and as the bronze metal evaporated into the air, Gabriel slouched on the ground, naked and raw and the staff reformed before Raphael. He took it in his grasp. “ _It is over now_. It is done. I am _sorry_.”

As The Messenger looked up into his solemn face, Raphael’s chest _ached_ at the sight of Gabriel’s eyes. He had never before seen them full of such despair and defeat. _Oh God._ What had he done? What had he been _forced_ to do? What had _she_ forced him to do? He hadn’t wanted it to happen this way.

His amber eyes were the first things Raphael saw when he first cracked through the wall of his shell and pushed into the world. The divinity illuminated his vision into this bitter existence and Gabriel was the first thing he saw.

Unlike the other four, Raphael didn’t have to break through into this world _on his own_ and nor did he even have to _stand_ by himself the first time. For once he had kicked his shell, pressing on it with all of his strength from within, it had cracked along the side and Gabriel curled his hands into it and pulled it apart for him, freeing him. His other had peeled away this cell and then bowed down to him, offering a hand so that Raphael could _stand_ … beside _him_.

“Stand with me. Please.” Gabriel, defeated and naked, wrapped his massive arms around his knees and pulled himself tight, as if he were back in his egg again. It was now Raphael’s turn to offer a hand to his brother, speaking softly as he did. “ _Rael … stand beside me._ ”

“You of ALL people, Phael.” Gabriel choked the words free from his throat painfully and ignored his brother’s hand as he began to rock back and forth. “I never thought _you_ would fall. You have _always_ been the _best_ of _all_ of us, but now … I am the _only_ one who stood strong. I am the only one left …”

“Does that even make sense?” Raphael asked calmly. “Consider it carefully. Does it make more sense that _everyone_ has **_fallen_** … _except you_?” He crouched down, resting his arms on his knees as he gazed upon his other with understanding, bringing them both back to eye level with one another. “ ** _Or does it not make more sense that you are the only one that hasn’t leapt with us yet?_** ”

 

* * *

 

There was a militia of several hundred men waiting for them when they touched down. Part of them mercenaries, part of them ex-military, part of them surviving _Sun Hunters_ from the old world _Ancients_ who _lived_ here. Regardless of their background, they were _all skilled_ , trained, and well armed. Quinlan stepped down from the plane, adjusting his gloves and pulling his hood down as he addressed them all quickly, loudly, and succinctly.

“[Сегодня вы увидите вещи, которые заставят вас подвергнуть сомнению ваше здравомыслие.](https://translate.google.com/#en/ru/You%20will%20see%20things%20today%20that%20will%20make%20you%20question%20your%20sanity.).” He shouted. “[Оставайтесь сосредоточенными и помните … даже боги могут кровоточить!](https://translate.google.com/#en/ru/Remain%20focused%20and%20remember%20%E2%80%A6%20even%20gods%20can%20bleed!)”

The pep talk was accepted with enthusiasm. The soldiers thrust their various weapons into the air before the crowd dissipating and people fell back to their respective transportations.

“Everyone with me.” The dhampir moved towards the armoured [ATV](http://www.popularmechanics.com/military/weapons/a19034/russia-shows-off-new-arctic-combat-vehicle/). “Now.”

“Hey!” George jogged up beside Fet. “Do you speak Russian? What’d he say?”

Quinlan grinned, hearing the question from behind as he hoisted himself up to sit in the front row of seats of the tracked tank and Fet answered with a crazed smile, raising his eyebrows enthusiastically. “ _Dat even da gods bleed._ ”

 

* * *

**[Until We Go Down - Ruelle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0ON06ClWO2n1xSvSnHB0bb&t=MzU0ZjllODU1YzMyOWZhZDVmOWFhZjRlOTQ4ZmJiYjk3ZGY1NWEyMywzS2ZPbElTQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170469961458%2Fchapter-117-sacrifice&m=1) **

> _And I feel it running through my veins_
> 
> _And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake_
> 
> _Erased, I missed till the break of day_
> 
> _And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake_
> 
> _Until we go down_
> 
> _Until we go down_

 

The massive ATV bounced savagely back and forth and Dutch balanced her laptop on her knees, cursing as she tried to type on it while they moved.

“You are absolutely certain?” Quinlan asked again.

“Yeah, love. I am.” She spun the device and pointed to the ellipses on the map, next to the _western_ -most bank of the massive lake. “She’s on, right now … In fact, _I’ve never seen her on this much_. The signal is so strong, I’m having a hard time picking up _anything_ else. The amount of power that she’s emanating–”

Quinlan spun the computer in her lap and spoke to the driver on the other side of her, instructing him to proceed to _that_ very location.

As they did, the vehicle bounced over the snowy, rugged terrain, ambling its way towards the lake and everyone sat in uncharacteristic, nervous silence. The full moon illuminated much of the land before them, as the armoured mini-tank climbed the final hill between them and the massive body of water, they glimpsed the shine of its surface on the horizon and Thomas _spoke_ from the middle row of seats.

“[Baikal](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Baikal).” The Nazi explained. “It is the world’s largest, deepest, _and oldest_ freshwater lake. It is known as a _rift_ lake, for below its surface, rests the deepest continental rift on the planet. Though it is quite unique in _many_ ways, the only one that matters right now is that there lies seven kilometers, or for you _Americans_ , four point three **_miles_** of organic sediment at its bottom.”

“Is there a purpose to this _history_ lesson?” Quinlan sneered. He wasn’t in the mood for a _lesson_ right now. He was nervous and … _uneasy_.

“Oh yes, _my lord_. Important purpose. Purpose that you _should_ take note of.” Thomas did not skip a beat, undeterred from Quinlan’s sour tone. “My _Master_ spoke of it often. He told me many stories of its history … _and_ **_purpose_**. He told me that it is _not_ just the Gate to Hell but it also serves as a warning, for it is also a _tomb._ ”

“A tomb?” Dutch bit. “Is it … Lucifer’s tomb?”

“Oh no. No. Not _his_ tomb.” Thomas laughed, but there was no detectable amusement in his tone. “What do you think caused that _four point three miles_ of sediment, my dear? And when the _Gate of Hell_ opens, and those _damned_ souls _flood_ in this world … where do you think they will go? Do you think he would open the gate to simply allow them to become _lost_?”

_Oh gods._

_Oh … gods …_

“The sediment … “ Quinlan gulped. Organic waste. Decomposed organic waste. It was bodies. It was a mass grave. “It **_is_** …” Quinlan felt _vastly_ underprepared suddenly, as the history lesson became clear, its importance running along his spine. “The remnants of _his army_.”

“ ** _Yes_**.” The response was a hiss. “It is where the Indigo Child laid The Morning Star’s _monstrous legions_ to rest, after he fled to the safety of _Hell_. It is the resting place of his hordes, those millions left after his nearly _-successful_ destruction of Earth.”

“Do I even want to know why this matters?” Dutch stammered.

“ ** _Lavoisier_** , Mrs. Fet.” Thomas quipped and Quinlan actually spun around, to look at _lapdog_ in his smug eyes. “Matter cannot simply _vanish_. It had to go somewhere … _Raphael_ left it here as a _warning_.”

“What did you say?” That name. _That name_. The Wheel had spoken it … _Oh gods. It had been warning_. “Who is that?”

“[Antoine Lavoisier](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antoine_Lavoisier), my lord.” Thomas sat straight up, as Quinlan’s stare intimated him. “He was the french chemist who discovered _the_ [Conservation of Mass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conservation_of_mass).”

“Conservation of _what now_?” Gus spoke for the first time since landing.

Thomas chuckled at the Boxer’s ignorance, though Quinlan was certain none there, save perhaps the Hacker, knew what it meant, though the dhampir had a growing suspicion. “That the total mass of matter is the same at the end as at the beginning of every chemical change.”

“Uhhhh … Yeah, but dey’re all dead though, yeah?” Fet hoped loudly from behind. “Dey are dead.”

“So was I.” Quinlan cringed as he knew it didn’t matter. In fact, it was how Quinlan himself had reincarnated. All the _Morning Star_ required was the matter itself. He could form it to his wishes. This was _The Power of Creation_. “So was I, Mr. Fet.”

_4.3 miles …_

_4.3_ **_miles_** _of decomposed corpses._

_Millions upon millions of wicked creations._

He played the number again and again in his mind as they approached the lake and he made out a familiar silhouette standing at its distant shore. 


	96. Art - The Angel of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind her rings. 5 rings. 5 eye colors.
> 
> In clockwork order if one were facing the Throne ... Ozryel, Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel.
> 
> She isn't wearing a ring for Lucifer. They don't have a good relationship, but there is a 5th ring present. Snuggled against the red one which represents her, is a light blue ... _for the eye color of a certain dhampir_.

  
  



	97. Fan Art - Roman Soldier Quintus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head over and give [quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com) a follow, like, and reblog. She's amazing and deserves it. ;-)
> 
>   
>    
> 

_**[Roman Soldier, Quintus Sertorius](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/170238694615/roman-soldier-quintus-sertorius-he-rides-above)**_  

> _‘He rides above the ocean and the snow,_
> 
> _His trail is on the curtain of the skies:_
> 
> _Brighter than **Dawn** , his young eternal eyes _
> 
> _Shine in the eyes of Valour far below:_
> 
> _Now Mammon hides beneath his trembling halls,_
> 
> _While Honour marches singing into war;_
> 
> _On strange forgotten hearts a radiance falls,_
> 
> _As ever nearer, burning from afar,_
> 
> _The sword of Ares gleams above the morning star **.** ' _
> 
> [ **Ares God of War by  Herbert Asquith** ](https://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/herbert-asquith/ares-god-of-war/)

NUDE/NSFW pic under the cut.

 

  



	98. Art - Foreshadowing 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter has been a challenge to write. I want to get it absolutely perfect. In the meantime, enjoy some TEASERS.

Foreshadowing ... and a preview: 

> “No.  You are wrong, _Light Bringer_.  If there was _anything_ that I learned during my short time in _Paradise_ , it is that I am _not an evil man_ , as I had always assumed.   **_I do not possess a wicked soul_**.”
> 
> “Evil is relative, _Victus_ .”  EL explained simply.  “Haven’t you figured _that_ out yet?  There are _no wicked_ souls.  There are no _righteous_ souls.  There is _no true black and white_.  We are all just _shades of grey_ , though some,”  he chuckled lowly to himself, “obviously _darker_ than others.  But our balance of _**both**_  ebbs and flows, _over time_ .  We _change_ and we _evolve_.  Don't we _understand this fact better than most?_ ”
> 
> “Yes.  And ugly as I might be, as you have been _so kind_ to remind me, [ Son of Perdition ](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm) , my appearance does not reflect the _worth_ of my soul.  It _never_ has.”  Quinlan came to his own defense.  For the first time ever, his words were ripe with passion and pride in himself.  “Flawed, tormented, **_grotesque_ ** , yes … but I no longer have any doubts, should my soul ever be weighed by [ Raqib and Atid ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiraman_Katibin) , that I would be found worthy of _Paradise_ , and that I am **_more_ ** than _worthy_ of _her love_.” 

 

## Excited yet?


	99. 11.8 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming. I’ve been writing it on and off since the very beginning. If you didn’t see this coming, then you weren’t paying attention. Please enjoy.
> 
>   
>    
> 

**[I Will Burn Your Ships - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/6YpW3oCsbYMwz90NSLw3Hd) **

“Remain in the vehicle unless I signal otherwise. Understood?” There was an attempt to protest but he ignored them, slamming the door behind him and jumping down into the muddy slush, adjusting his coat as he turned to face the figure standing a mere twenty feet from the ATV, _its_ … **_her_** … silhouette illuminated by the bright headlights.

She was completely still, facing the water and he approached slowly, his heart thundering in his chest. She was now thinner than the picture, but thicker than when he last saw her, malnourished and unkept during the _last_ end of the world event. Her hair was very short now and this displeased him, at a length where it spiked randomly away from her head. A staff was strapped across her back and he smelled dried human blood, but he knew it wasn’t _hers_.

He was now five feet from her and subduing his desire to reach out and take her into his arms required _all_ of his self restraint.

Still not a movement. There was _no way_ she did not hear them approaching, both the vehicle and _his footsteps_.

“Dawn?” He finally spoke, breaking the silence as he swallowed hard and waited for a response, but received none. He should have been planning what he would say and he regretted that now, as no words came to mind. “ _Dawn_?” He tried again. “I have come **back**.”

Her head moved as she angled her ear back towards him ever-so-slightly, but again said nothing.

“I have _returned … for you._ ”

“ _Quintus?_ ” She spoke and he exhaled, taking another step forward, but there was something _off_ in her voice. Something hidden in the vibration of her delicate tone that prevented him from taking _another_ step towards her, from reaching out. “ _Is that … you?_ ”

“Yes …” He took another deep breath and his hands trembled. He fought the urge grab her. To turn her around so that he could look into her _gloriously_ spotted face, into her _dragonfly eyes_. “I am _here_.”

“ _I …_ ” She paused. “ _I think … I think I was dreaming about you_ …” She still did not move. The vibration in her voice thickened and deepened. “… _Invictus_ … ”

 _Invictus?_ Quinlan now resisted the urge to take a step _backwards_. “Dawn?”

“I dreamed you were in a _beautiful valley_ … ” She lifted her arms up towards the sky. “I dreamed you were in _Elysian_ … just like you told me you would be … standing outside a _lovely little cottage_ … ” The reverberation in her voice increased and Quinlan took a step away, glancing back to the vehicle and holding his palm up for them to remain steady. “I went so far to find you … and you were there … you and your _fucking_ _beautiful_ , **_simple_** _wife …_ ” 

“That was _not_ what you assume–” He _should_ have planned his _damned_ words ahead of time!

“But the more I think about it, you know, maybe it wasn’t a dream _at all_. Was that real, Quintus? Or was it possibly just another [dream within a dream](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Dream_Within_a_Dream).” She snorted and Quinlan tilted his head to the right. Was this _funny_ to her? He knew it wouldn’t be.

“Please, allow me to explain. What you saw was–” _A goodbye._

Quinlan stepped forward again, nearly to her, she was _nearly_ within his grasp as poetry began to flow from _her_ mouth.

“Take this kiss upon the brow! …

     And, in parting from you now,

         Thus much let me avow–

              You are not wrong, who deem

 **That my days have been a dream;** ”

“Dawn, _face me_ … please.” It was a request.

“Yet if **hope** has flown away

    In a **night** , or in a day,

         In a **vision** , or in none …”

“ _Face me now_.” This was a demand and she chuckled at it as she lowered her hands.

“Is it therefore the less gone?

    All that we see or seem

         Is but **a dream within a dream**.”

The ground began to rumble and he resisted the urge to withdraw, to run. _No_. There must be reason left. She was here, right now, within his grasp. He had come so very far … _for her_.

“I … “ She chuckled. “stand amid the roar

    Of a **surf-tormented shore** ,

         And I hold within my hand

              Grains of the **golden** sand–”

“ _I know you are angry, you have every right to be, but you must stop this now. What you saw was not–_ ” Quinlan reached for her now, though every ounce of his being warned him against the action, laying his palms on her _burning hot_ shoulders. He could see the steam rising from her frame and her temperature steadily began to rise.

“How few! yet how **they creep**

 **Through my fingers to the deep** ,

         While I weep–while I weep!”

“ _I will explain everything to you, but right now …_ ”

“ **O God**! can I not grasp

    Them with a tighter clasp?

 **O God**! can I not save

 **One from the pitiless wave?** ”

“ _It is time to go home …_ ” His hands tightened on her shoulders and he began to force her to turn to him.

“Is all that we see or seem …” Her voice was no longer hers. There was no part of her tone left. “ _But a dream within a dream?_ ”

“I love **_you_**. **I love** **_none_** **but** **_you_**.” Her head was angled down and he gently lifted it up so that he could look in her face … _and her_ **_rainbow_** _eyes_.

“Peek-a-boo.” She giggled and her arms flew up as _red lightning_ sparked out from the water and enveloped her body fully. It all happened in a matter of seconds and the ensuing explosion hurled Quinlan and their caravan of vehicles back. The armoured ATVs flipped several times and everything was covered in water all at once. The dhampir hit the cliff wall and he felt his bones shatter at the impact, but he was reforming and pulling himself up within seconds.

Everything was wet _and warm_. It no longer felt like winter, but instead it was instantly tropical. Massive drops of water fell from the cloudless sky and he squinted the several hundred feet towards the shore from where he had just been thrown to see her silhouette still standing there, though a dense fog that now crept across the area, as the heat and humidity hit the remaining cold pockets of winter air.

Quinlan gritted his teeth and approached again, wiping himself off as the figure watched and chuckled. He could hear his companions scrambling out of the overturned vehicles but he kept his focus on the most important task at hand. When he was close enough again to see through the mist, he realized there was no long a lake behind _her_. Now he understood why everything was _wet_. All the water was gone and now it was just a _massive_ hole in the Earth. _A pit._

The rumbling began again as red danced across her skin. It seemed to be flowing out of the hole and _into her_. _Oh gods_.

“Dawn!” He screamed, his voice was rich with desperation as he pleaded, still refusing to draw his blade.

“ _WOW_! Look at you! All shiny and _new_ , but _god_ damn …” The Morning Star grinned. “ _Still ugly as sin, aren’t you?_ ”

“DAWN! _Hear me!_ **_STOP THIS! STOP THIS NOW!_** ”

“ _I’m sorry, BORN-O_.” The masculine, childish voice that came from her lovely mouth was disturbing, to say the least. He was _chuckling_ madly. “But Dawn can’t come out to play right now. _She’s in art class_.”

“ _Dawn_ …” He tried again and a disturbing noise began to emanate from the hole behind her … _him_. It sounded like _millions_ of twigs were breaking apart. A group of people had begun to form behind him, but he stayed focused. “You must stop this. You must take control.”

“ _Ah_ …” The energy continued to flow from the hole and she stretched her arm out far and sighed. “That is _so much_ better. SO MUCH BETTER. It was like a damn _drizzle_ before. Chinese water torturing myself with divinity … but now … AH!!! Now I can flow _like a river_ into _my new digs_.”

“No! Release her.” Quinlan changed his strategy. He wasn’t sure where Ozryel and Michael were, but the best chance for any kind of success was going to rest on them. “You have _no claim_ –”

“No claim?!” She … _he_ grinned. “No claim?! Aurora gave up _ownership_ to this shell when she took her own life.” She … _he_ looked around innocently. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn’t it?”

“Dawn–”

“If you want it back, _mutt_ , I welcome you to try and take it from me.” Quinlan did not like the grin. “But it is nice to _finally_ meet you, Quintus. Face to face, that is.” He did not like the tone. “I’ve been watching you for a _long_ time.” He did not like the words. “You’ve sent _so many_ souls to _entertain_ me.”

“Dawn–”

“UGH! Enough!” Lucifer threw her hands up, his emotional state flipped from highly amused to incredibly frustrated like the flip of a switch. “She’s **_not_** here anymore. She’s **_not_**. Her soul has moved on. She can’t hear you. She can’t hear _shit_ from this world anymore. Poof. She’s gone. _She’s gone. Gone._ ”

“No. No.” Quinlan shook his head. “No.”

“Oh yes. YES. YES!” She … **_he_** … stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat as Lucifer condescendingly tapped on the side of Quinlan’s temple and the dhampir pulled back with disgust. “I know you’ve always had a thick skull, [VICTUS](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/Defeated). Pay attention, you fucking halfling twit … She gave up on _you_. _She gave up …_ and now … _and now she’s_ **_mine_** … like she was always supposed to be. MINE.”

“ _Noooo_! She did _not_. She would not … _she_ … ” The blade was in his hand before he could rationally stop himself but he didn’t swing. “You did this … **_you did this_**!”

“YES!” Lucifer looked down at the blade as his smile only widened. “You brought me my sword! I really didn’t wanna leave it, but after I saw that _spark of purple_ …” He scratched her jaw. “That was **_you_** … wasn’t it?!? HOT DAMN. I should have just stuck around to say _hi_ then. I honestly thought it was Phael. I wasn’t up for seeing _him_ yet, but … I’m almost there. **_Just a little more to go before_** –”  

> _Strike now. Before he can draw his full divinity from Hell. He is trying to distra–_

Barqan’s voice reached Quinlan’s mind, but the sentence was only half delivered as Lucifer attention was suddenly focused on the group standing behind him. The devil reached up, pointing her hand towards the _Djinn_ and _pulled_ Barqan beside Quinlan. The marid fought against the invisible force, but his feet dragged along the sand and he was powerless against it.

“Rude. Shoosh! We were having a conversation. Down.” The _marid_ struggled to remain standing, but Lucifer pointed down and a force thrust the _Djinn_ upon his knees. “Good boy. Now … _stay_. Don’t make me tell you twice. I _hate_ having to say things _twice_.”

Barqan didn’t move or speak, but Quinlan was unsure if that was because he was following orders or the _Morning Star_ was not allowing him to do so.

“ _I like marid_.” Lucifer nodded, speaking of the _Djinn_ as if he was nothing more than a pet. “I own _a ton of them_. Don’t worry. You’ll meet ‘em all soon. Their tough to break, but once you do. Loyal … like _bloodhounds_ … or _chihuahuas_.” He turned his full attention back to Quinlan, reaching out his hand. “Now … _where were we?_ ”

Quinlan blinked and his grip on it tightened. He considered many things right now, but there were only two important ones. First, the sound from the _pit_ behind Lucifer had changed to a bubbling. Second, given what he had just forced Barqan to do, could Quinlan even _refuse_ to comply? This was _his_ sword.

“Give me my sword, _Victus_.” Lucifer took a deep breath. “Don’t make me ask twice … _I fucking hate having to ask_ **_twice_**.”

Barqan stared at the dhampir from the corner of his eyes and Quinlan looked from the _Djinn_ to the _Hayyoth_ and back again. His grip on the bone handle tightened further and his leather gloves squeaked against it as he read the _pleading_ eyes of the marid.

 ** _Sacrifice_**.

Then Lucifer tried to force him. The Morning Star commanded Quinlan’s body to kneel, just as he had done Barqan’s, but the dhampir _felt_ it happening and he _resisted_. The feeling was exactly what Michael had taught him during his final battle with the _Master_. It was the Power of Creation, the Body of God, commanding his flesh at an atomic level While Quinlan was clearly not as strong as Lucifer, his defiance flared and purple lightning danced across his skin as he stood his ground, clenching his jaw fiercely.

“[Potes meos suaviari clunes.](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Potes%20meos%20suaviari%20clunes)” 

“Hmmm.” Lucifer bit into her lip. “ _Fine. Your choice._ ”

**_And then the fight turned physical._ **

****

* * *

****

“Why not just _ask_ them to do this? If God had just _told_ his sons what he wished, none of this would have had to happen. Why play this _game_?”

“Many reasons, but the most important one is … He cannot be seen as fallible. Besides, _you can not simply ask a child to grow up_. You cannot _help_ them either. Some lessons must be learned on their own. Challenges _must_ be faced without aid. You _must_ do the hardest thing a parent can. You must step back and allow them to become adults. Allow them to falter and learn. Allow them to _fall_ , so that they can learn how to pick themselves up.”

“So, this was all just … _a lesson_?”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh please, you are _not_ surprised by this, Uriel. Everything he has EVER done has been a lesson, has it not?”

“I still don’t buy it. At what cost, Andy? Ozryel’s siege upon Earth … _Millions of souls_. _MILLIONS of them_ … for a lesson?!?”

“ _Hundreds of thousands_ died in the Garden. _Millions_ died in the _flood_. How is this _any_ different. _Millions_ of humans were slain and their spirits rushed into Heaven.” She grinned, attempting to hide the sinister intention she felt in disclosing this part to him. “It was quite the purging of souls, was it not, brother? And just imagine … how _powerful_ Heaven had become _due_ to that purge. How _powerful_ God became due to it.”

“ _Powerful_?” Uriel repeated her, tilting his head in curiosity over her words.

“Every living creature is endowed with God’s divinity when it is born to Earth. It ties its soul to its shell and when it comes to Heaven, that divinity returns to _him_. And per design, humans breed like _rodents_. Let’s just say that unchecked population growth had left him …” She spun her cup as she sighed. “ _Stretched thin_ a bit, I’m afraid.”

“You’re saying … It wasn’t a _cull_. It wasn’t a _purge_ at all …” He shook his head, laughing a bit in disbelief and horror. “It was a god damn **_harvest_**.”

She grinned. “Oh yes. Stuffing our coffers, so to say. Saving for _quite_ a rainy day.” She giggled at her hidden joke. “You’ve no idea how much power is required to create a storm half the size of the Earth, even for _him_.” Uriel had no words but Sandalphon _knew_ that wasn’t all of it. Not by a long shot, in fact. “But _it was not just that_ , my brother. No, no. _Not just that_ at all.” She sipped her everlasting drink innocently. “ _Everything that happened … Every life that was taken … Every shell that was left on Earth … I assure you … was done so for a reason. Everything … has its purpose._ ”

* * *

 

**[Angels Among Demons - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/37LZluzRExLxVCNId2PQQI) **

He should have realized something was _off_ when the Morning Star stumbled. Quinlan assumed he had gotten the upper hand as he fought to retain control of his weapon, but he refused to strike, even when the opportunity presented itself, and it did often … _too often_. The dhampir moved to counter Lucifer’s strike, grabbing _her_ arm and thrusting the angel down to _her_ knees, bringing the blade across _her_ neck. There was a moment of silence and no one moved as he sneered and then pulled it away, stepping back as he glanced at Barqan in apology. “I will not. I _can not_.”

“God damn it!” The Morning Star looked up, _her_ face contorting with glorious amusement as he stood up, dusting her body off and then he laughed and Quinlan tilted his head as he realized the _defeat_ was a ruse. “I wanted to _show_ her. I wanted to _prove_ … _how much of a piece of shit you really are. Where your true loyalties lie …_ ” _Oh gods._ It had been … _a fucking test?!?_ “Oh well. Doesn’t change a thing. You’re still _an asshole_ and now it’s _my turn_.”

Lucifer flashed with red and Quinlan hit the ground on his back. He tried to stand, but her boot was pressing down on his sternum and he looked up into the Morning Star’s eyes as the Hayyoth grinned at his newly procured blade, spinning it in _her_ hand. “You know, Dad never made me one. I _never_ got a _toy_. So this one … This one is **_mine_**.” His attention returned to his pinned prey. “Now, what to do with you. _Hmmm_. What to do with you … indeed … ” He tapped the blade against her head and scratched her chin, squinting at the dhampir’s face. “Well … first thing’s first. I gotta fix this …”

[Th3 Awak3n1n - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/7ege3Gn7rFPmMoinSteN9t)

_Oh gods … Fix … what exactly?_

Lucifer flicked the weapon and sliced the blade across Quinlan’s face. He felt his left cheek fall apart in two flaps. _Damnation!_ The metal of the edge _sizzled_ as it cut his skin and his hand flew to hold the two pieces back together. He could _feel_ it and he knew that Lucifer had cut his face _precisely_ where his old scar had been. And then the Morning Star cut again, this time across the right side of his chin.

 _Fuck …_ Quinlan growled and struggled to free himself as he tried to heal; he attempted to patch his flesh back together through the _Body of God_ , but he knew the blade was unique and he felt the scars that were left even after he was healed. Two more knicks were placed across his left temple and then the hayyoth reached down and spun the dhampir around, forcing his face into the dirt as Lucifer stepped onto his lower back, keeping him in place. Quinlan thrashed and fought like a child, but the Hayyoth laughed wildly as he began to cut into his back. One long slice and Quinlan screamed. Two long slices and his harness was cut in half. Three slices … before the fallen angel was distracted again and turned to watch the human who approached with open palms.

“Shortie …” Gus tried, staring down at Quinlan as he advanced slowly. “Shortie, it’s me … it’s Gus. _Are you still in there_?”

_Oh no. No. No. No. Elizalde. That damned fool …_

“Gus!” Lucifer chortled and he pointed to the ground, forcing the Boxer’s body to kneel beside the _Djinn_. “Gus. Gus. Gus.” He approached the now silent, trapped man. “You know. I _like_ you. I actually **_really_** do … unlike _this piece of shit_ …” He gave a nod back towards the dhampir who was scrambling to his feet, trying to mend his now re-scarred body back together. “You were nice to her. I appreciated that … _So, I’ll extinguish you_ **_last_**.”

“Is that your master plan …” Quinlan panted the words, trying to distract the angel from the foolhardy human. He stood straight up, allowing the now-useless harness to fall to the ground. Lucifer turned back to him. “To simply … _kill_ us all?”

“Kill? Oh, it will be _so much more_ than that, Victus. I plan to _unmake_ everything. But first will come _death_.” Lucifer shrugged. “But not personally … I mean … I hate getting my hands dirty.” He grinned and touched her finger to her ear. **“Don’t you hear them?”** Turning to the pit, he raised her arms as his body began to sway back and forth, to and fro, as if he was dancing to unheard music and then Quinlan did hear it. Yes. Yes, he _was_ dancing. There _was_ a rhythm as a million hearts began to beat in unison and the last bit of red flowed out of the hole and _into_ her body. “There we go. Finally! **_Mine._** ”

And then Lucifer did what Hayyoths could. Quinlan watched in petrified horror as her body shifted and changed, morphing away from everything he loved. He witnessed as everything that _had_ been her, became the _Morning Star_. She grew in height and her feminine curves vanished as his masculine, thin frame took over. Her hair grew out several inches and was now raven black. Her spots _faded_ and Quinlan clenched his jaw, his eyes filling with rageful tears. And finally, Lucifer spread his bat-like wings, beginning to laugh as the dhampir withdrew and creatures began to amble onto the shore.

Walking creatures. Winged creatures. Shelled creatures. Creatures made of rot. Creatures made of stone. Creatures made of wood. Quinlan’s hope began to wane.

Lucifer snapped his taloned fingers, releasing control of the _marid_ and the Boxer. As they scrambled to their feet, he smiled watching them run. “Run along now. Make sure you don’t miss the fun …” He sniffed the air and flexed his wings, stretching his muscles before he took flight and perched high on the cliff wall far above them to watch the carnage.

_Damnation!_

Quinlan was moving fast, waving a hand to those who were waiting to engage. “Retreat! RETREAT!”

“What is it?!” George bellowed, but his eyes were fixed towards what had _just_ been the _poet_ and he breathed out sharply. “ ** _Mother of god …_** ”

“I said RUN!!!” Quinlan bellowed as the Morning Star’s laughter began to sound from behind, echoing through the valley.

But as the dhampir was making his way through the men to escape, he found the other half of the group fleeing _towards_ him. They screamed in Russian and he desperately pulled at them as they ran passed them and _towards_ the Morning Star’s advancing hoard.

“Nooooo! Do not engage! I SAID TO FLEE!” What on Earth was … and then he _heard_ them. The fog was dense, but the wind picked up suddenly and swept across the valley, revealing to Quinlan what had spooked the men. Everyone of importance was following him and Dutch was so close that the woman ran straight into his back as he halted and stared into the mass of movement approaching them from the opposite direction.

_Damnation._

It was strigoi. It was … _an Army of strigoi_. It was … **_all of the strigoi_**. Quinlan’s eyes crawled across the area and a chill ran along his spine. As far as he could see in fact. They were throughout the valley. They were on the ridges. They were on the mountains surrounding them. They were funneling into the valley. _Millions_ of them … _He had never seen so many_ …

“OH, FUCK US.” Dutch choked. “No, no, no, no! Are you kidding me?! This can’t be happening!!!”

“Stay close to me.” Quinlan commanded everyone as he pulled out his guns. “Keep your backs to each other!” He wasn’t even sure what the point would be. They were clearly _dead_. They were _all dead_. He would have _laughed_. He would have thought this was _ironic_ a year ago, but now … he was _angry_. He pointed one of his Uzi’s at Lucifer’s hoard, and he pointed the other toward the strigoi.

He began to shoot at the strigoi first, as they were closest and would hit them first and a number of them fell by his weapons. He was out of bullets quickly and he prepared himself to physical combat, but instead … they passed him. _They ran past all of them._

“Their eyes!” Thomas screamed, his voice was almost laughter and Quinlan looked. _Red circles._ “LOOK AT THEIR EYES!” There was a glint of silver in the distance and then a glint of gold. And _then_ , Quinlan saw her fully. She was flying low, over the _Army of Flesh_ as they advanced. Her blade drawn, her mouth open as she bellowed a furious war cry into the night’s air, and, mostly importantly, her eyes were _red with light_ … _as were all of her minions’_.

 _Oh gods._   

> _Did you miss me, Striped One?_

He watched with mouth agape as Ozryel’s _Army of Flesh_ hit savagely against Lucifer’s _Army of the Damned_ and he _heard her chuckle_ in his mind as the wind surged, removing the very _last_ of the fog from the valley.  

> _Apologies for the tardiness. But we had to pick up a few of_ **_things_** _along the way_.

 

* * *

 

**[Bloodstain - Wrabel](https://open.spotify.com/track/3vHTlIT5uIilAFf6Cy69tr) **

> _I’m gonna pull myself together_
> 
> _Gonna wait till it’s forever_
> 
> _Gonna find someone who’ll stay_
> 
> _Who’s not afraid of what I’m asking for_

“You _fear_ change. That’s alright, because I do too.” Raphael reached out to his brother, offering a hand down to him. “But without it, there can be no evolution. Without risk, there can be no growth, no reward. And isn’t _risk_ what makes life _worth_ living? It’s what excites us. It’s what drives us to act … what enables us to **_feel_**.”

“No. You don’t want to change me … You seek to _corrupt_ me. Your tongue is as _silver_ as _his_.” Gabriel spat at him, glaring at his outstretched hand. “I am _no fool_. _I will not_ **_fall_** _with you_. _If you do this … you do it alone._ ”

“I am not asking you to _fall_ with me, Rael. In fact, I am requesting the _exact opposite_ of that. I am asking you to **_leap_** with me. I am asking you to _fly_ with me, **_brother_**. Every flight has the risk of _falling_ , but we have _never_ fallen … we have never allowed each other to _fall_. Ascend with me… ”

“ _No …_ ” Gabriel pulled himself even tighter, lowering his head between his knees to hide his face from Raphael. “ _It’s too late … I failed you. You are already gone …_ ”

“No, brother. I haven’t gone anywhere, nor do I plan on it. And I haven’t _fallen_ because _falling_ is a _myth_. I’ve simply opened my eyes to the hypocrisy of it all.”

“ _You’re crazy._ ”

“ _Falling_ is a just a fable we tell the children to keep them in line. We are _not_ children … _not anymore._ ”

“ _Go away …_ ”

“It is a _mind fuck_ , used by _us_ , exacerbated by _us_ , as a means of control. It is a _weapon_. A leather belt. A boogie man we are threatened with to keep us complacent. Nothing more, _nothing less_. A nightmare spun to keep things from changing … from evolving … _even ourselves._ ” Raphael collapsed to his knees on the ground before Gabriel, setting the staff on the ground to his side and focusing on his _other_ with all of his attention.

“ _Leave me alone …_ ”

“What is _falling_ , Rael?” Raphael took a deep breath and waited patiently

“ _Don’t condescend me …_ ”

“I’m not. It is just a question. A very, very fair question. And I have pondered it for thousands and thousands of years. You don’t understand _how long_ I’ve considered it.” Raphael sat back on his bottom and crossed his legs, leaning towards Gabriel as the larger angel had begun to rock back and forth. “What does it _really_ mean to **_fall_**?”

“I …” Gabriel shook his head, keeping it hidden still. “ _No. You’re confusing things on purpose …_ ”

“I’m not. I just want you to hear my words. How does one _fall_.”

“They …” Gabriel swallowed, realizing the absurdity of what it meant. “It means to fall from God’s grace. It mean to be … _disconnected from the Nexus_.”

“And if I _am_ the Nexus, brother …” Raphael smiled. “How can I _ever_ fall?”

“You can _still_ fall from _God’s Grace_ … You can still be–”

“Be what? **_Be free_**?” Raphael cut him off. “Because I really hope so. That’s actually the point of it all. Don’t you get it, Rael? This control, these rules … they are a just fabrication. To _fall_ is to break the rules … to break _his_ rules. To **_fall_** , in the simplistic sense, is to _realize_ that we are actually _free_. Ignorance versus Knowledge. Conformity versus Agency. Group versus Individual.”

Gabriel peaked his head out and glared at Raphael through the tiny slit. “Don’t talk to me like I’m five. I already know _that story_ , Phael … The Apple and the Serpent.”

 _Phael. Progress. Yes._ Gabriel used his name and there was a glimmer of hope stirring in Raphael’s soul.

“Yes, and Eve understood it best … but she was _not_ the first, was she? Lilith knew it all _first_. That story has always been an abstraction.” Gabriel remained silent and Raphael sighed deeply. “Alright … how about this … if **_falling_** is real, then we were all made to fall.”

“ _You’re crazy …_ ”

“Often, but not right now. Hear me out. After all this time, you at _least_ owe me that much … “ Raphael paused to allow his brother to refuse, but when Gabriel remained silent, he continued. We were _made_ to fall. _It’s the only thing that makes sense._ ” He leaned back and pulled his knees to his chest, mimicking Gabriel’s posture. In the same position, he was now smaller than his larger other, as always. “It’s because of love, Rael. **_Love._** Love is our downfall.” Raphael laughed through his welling tears. He couldn’t help it. Though he was _terrified_ of possible rejection, he had desperately wanted to say this to him for such a long time. “If love is how we fall, then we should have _fallen_ the moment we took our first breaths.”

“ _That’s stupid …_ ” Gabriel huffed. “Of course we are allowed to love …”

“Exactly. Exactly! _We love_. We can’t help but love. With every ounce of our beings. With every beat of our hearts. _We can’t help but love_.”

“ _What does love have to do with anything?_ ”

“Freedom. The _Freedom_ to Love, brother.” Raphael smiled as Gabriel’s arms relaxed further. “We were made this way and if **_love is our downfall_** , then **_we were made to fall_**. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

“*Speak for yourself … I was made perfect … *” Wait … Was that a quip?!? Was he actually breaking through?

“And I will **_not_** accept that we were created _flawed_. I can’t accept that. I won’t. No, this is the progression of our evolution. **_This is the only thing that makes sense next._** ”

 

* * *

 

**[Flames of Glory - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/5yhbSE1nTnoTlVOFubeXMy) **

The strigoi were holding the line at the edge of the pit, but they both knew this was only temporary. Lucifer could rebuild his dead; Ozryel could not. She landed next to _her dhampir_ and swung her blade with efficiency, slicing through the terrible creations that were trying to squeak by her Army of Flesh. “You must flee, my child!” She urged him as he finished ripping the head from something that looked half-troll, half-demon. “ ** _GO NOW!_** ”

“I will not.” Quintus sneered and she _knew_ that tone. He was going to be particularly difficult right now. “I will not leave her.”  

> _I heard your conversation with_ **_him_**. _I am sorry. She is already gone. Flee now. I will find you later._

“She’s right! We have to get out of here!” George was jumping up to the overturned armoured ATV, wedging himself between the cliff wall and pushing his strong legs against the frame of the vehicle. He grunted fiercely as all the muscles in his body torqued, but the tank gave no indication of moving. Two Paws joined him, but it proved too heavy or too wedged into the cliff wall for them to even budge.

“Help them with it!” She urged Quintus. “ _GET THEM TO SAFETY NOW!_ THIS IS NOT A REQUEST!”

It was Michael who would argue with her next as he bobbed and weaved in a beautiful dance with her, fighting side by side. He pulled his blade from the heart of an elder ogre as he backed Quintus.  

> _No. He stays! You yourself said it … she’ll only_ **_hear_** _him!_

“Michael!” She tried, but he was adamant. He was fundamentally determined.  

> _No! There is still_ **_hope_**!

She recognized _his_ tone as well. “ _There is hope_ and that is precisely why they _must_ get to safety. They may provide the _only_ hope against the _Rainbow Child_ now.”  

> _You make no sense, Oz! I will_ **_not_** _forsake her_!

“Open your _ears_ , _Golden One_.” Ozryel spun, halting mid-combat as she gripped her brother’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Open your ears and _listen_ …”

His brows furrowed with confusion, but he squeeze his eyes shut and he opened himself up to all the noises around him and then he heard it. The rhythm washed over him like an a warm, familiar shower and he bathed in it. His mouth parted a fraction of an inch as emotion overflowed from his heart. “ _Oh God …_ ” His eyes opened and he could _read_ the look on her face with ease. “You … _you knew_ …”

“The Lord may _taketh_ away, Michael” She laughed because she did know. She had actually known since the airport, but had said nothing. To distract him would have been detrimental. The truth was, she would have been more than happy to _carry_ Quintus to Siberia, but she had been so adamant about saving that plane. “But we both know he also **_giveth_**.”

_Heartbeats are like fingerprints._

“Quintus, get them to safety–” She began to utter the command to the dhampir _again_ , but as she spun around, she realized he was _no longer there_. It took her only seconds to spot him, scrambling up and over the edge nearly vertical wall of the cliff upon which Lucifer was perched, watching the gloriously chaotic battle. “Bollocks! _FOOLISH BOY!_ ”

But Michael skipped no beats in reacting. Recharged with great purpose, he was already moving, flipping the armoured ATV back over as he shouted to his Onondagan children, locking eyes with George in particular as Ozryel continued to beat back the _Army of the Damned_ while Michael helped every one of them back into the vehicle. “IN NOW! Move your asses!”

The humans approached, weaving through the hordes of strigoi and Michael grabbed a handful of George’s shirt. “You get them to safety! _YOU HEAR ME?!_ ”

“ ** _Yes_**.”

Ozryel darted forward and ripped the small but vicious gremlin attached to her _minion’s_ neck and flung it far. For the first time, she acknowledged him fully and she found herself _nervous_ about it. Excitement danced in her face as she offered a hand to him and helped him stand before her. “ _You too, My Faithful Thomas_. Please help them get to safety.  She may be our _only_ hope left.”

“Mein …” Thomas’ body shuddered with the words. “Meister?” 

“ _My Beautiful Thomas_.” She used no nicknames on him. She never had and she never would. “You must go with them. I cannot be worrying for you right now.” She ran the outside of her taloned fingers down his cheek lovingly, specifically over the patch of _white_ skin that was now entirely devoid of human makeup. “Go. I _will_ find you _after_. This I _promise_.”

He required no further prodding and the freed strigoi ran to the ATV as she looked up at the cliff edge, taking flight to retrieve her _foolish_ , _lovesick_ boy next. She whispered to herself, trying to reach through the _still-closed_ Nexus and the wind flared all around her. “ _Where the hell are you, Purple Child?_ ”

 

* * *

 

**[Game of Survival - Ruelle](https://open.spotify.com/track/7jJTRLLwHQsHtBBYCCmqQR) **

> _Who’s in the shadows?_
> 
> _Who’s ready to play?_
> 
> _Are we the hunters?_
> 
> _Or are we the prey?_
> 
> _There’s no surrender_
> 
> _And there’s no escape_

“[Lucifer](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).” Quinlan stood straight, addressing the being by his name, letting go of _any_ attempt to reach his love.

“Please, it’s just **_EL_**. I haven’t been _Lucifer_ for ages. Besides, I don’t _bring light_ anymore. I offer only _darkness_.” He said and turned away from the battle below to face the dhampir, smiling slightly. “Back again? You just don’t _know_ how to give up do you? _It’s over_. Ozryel’s pathetic army will _crush_ against mine. _Why are you bothering me again?_ You and your little pissants can go for now. I afford you the day or two it will take for me to _drink this world dry_.”

“If this is _indeed_ the end …” Quinlan breathed deeply. “Then there is no where else I would rather be.” _Than as close to her as he could possibly get …_ “Than in the thick of it all …”

“You know … you’ve _really_ got some gusto.” EL approached him, looking him up and down as he ticked a finger towards him. “ _I like you_ , Sertorius.”

“Actually, it is _Densus_.” Quinlan corrected.

“Densus, huh? Sounds familiar.” EL squinted. “Where do I know that name from?” Quinlan ignored the prod entirely, unsure if the _devil_ was just baiting him or not. “Nevertheless, you’re kinda growin’ on me.”

“I doubt that _very much_ , [Liar](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).” Quinlan sneered. “Or do you not even remember your own words me only _five_ minutes ago?”

“No. No. No. I said you were _an asshole_. That’s not a lie at all. I am _very_ careful with my words, _mutt._ **_I don’t lie_**. **_I never lie_**.” Quinlan could read that this was a button. The Morning Star took this name as a great insult. “But … I digress. You know what it is? You remind me of _myself_! Quite a bit actually.”

“I suppose I _must_ agree with that assessment.” Quinlan quipped back, understanding the _devil’s_ personality slowly. He was intelligent, obviously, likely rivaling Ozryel herself. He was as prideful as Gabriel and clearly as capable as Michael. But, most troubling, Quinlan could _hear himself_ in the angel’s voice most of all. EL was _bitter_ and _angry_ … _and vengeful_. “As _you are clearly an_ **_asshole_** _as well_.”

EL laughed madly as he clapped with enthusiasm. “See! There it is. _There is it!_ ” The angel touched his nose and looked the dhampir up and down, thinking over something quietly before speaking again. “You know it doesn’t _have_ to end like this … I could use someone like you, _General Serto– … General Densus._ ”

“Come again?” Quinlan tilted his head. “Use me … _for what exactly_ , [Little Horn](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).”

“Join me. Stand with me against _Heaven_ and _Earth_.” EL became entirely serious and Quinlan laughed out loud. “Side with Hell. Lead my legions.”

“ _Lead_ , my Lord?”

“I’m offering you a _job, General_. Like I said, I can’t stand this shit. This is _beneath_ me. What can I say? I’m a lover, not a fighter. I hate getting my _hands_ dirty.”

“So what? You wish me to _dirty_ mine instead?” Quinlan shook his head. “Apologies, but I am afraid I will have to pass, [Tempter](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).”

“Dirty your hands?” EL snickered. “ _Dirty yours?!_ Are you fucking serious? Oh come on! We both know _your hands_ are already as dirty as they come.” The devil took a step towards him, cocking his head to the right. “How many _innocent_ souls have you slaughtered, **_Victus_**? Do you even know? Did you ever even try to keep count? I kept count … well, of the ones I could, each _damned_ soul you sent my way. It was … _marvelous_. I watched you through _thousands_ of deaths. _You were the last thing so many of them saw._ ”

“You are one to speak, [Wicked one](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).” This conversation was pointless and Quinlan was unsure what his intention was. What was the point of it? Did he still hope she could hear him? But he did not wish to disappoint her, just in case she was, just in case she _could_. “I will not _join_ you.”

“Are you sure about that?” EL shrugged and turned back to watch the battle below. “Not even if I _offer_ to give you what you came here for?”

“What I came for is clearly not something you will easily _part_ with.”

“Her?” EL spoke simply. “What if I _offer_ you time with _her_.”

Quinlan paused, unable to voice anything as he tried to gauge the truthfulness of the angel’s words. He detected no deceit, but he found himself _unable_ to ask what he meant. His heartbeat flickered with anxiety and the angel _heard_ it.

EL turned back and smiled as only he could, flashing his fangs with wicked intensity. “My offer is simple. Lead my legions across the world. Burn it down for me. Destroy man. Make him suffer for everything that he has done to _this world_. **_For everything he has done to you._** Take your vengeance on them all. _Without mercy. Without hesitation_. I know you want that. I know you’ve wanted it for _so long_. Do it for me and I will allow you to have _lifetimes_ with her before the end.”

“ _Lifetimes_?” Quinlan scoffed at the offer. “You said you will have this world burned down in a matter of days.” Time to push that button again. “For someone claims to not _lie_ , perhaps you should–”

“Don’t be such an idiot, **_you little shit_**.” EL countered, his nostrils flaring at the word _lie_. “Time is _fluid_ , **_most especially in Hell_** , or haven’t you figured that out already? I can give you _lifetimes_ with her … _in Hell_. It isn’t all _fire and brimstone._ It’s malleable. I can give you _any_ life you want with her. You wanna be human? You wanna be handsome? You wanna be rich? You wanna know what it feels like for everyone to love you? You wanna marry her? You wanna make little _mutt_ babies with her? I can give you that. I can give you _everything_ you want.”

##  **_Malleable?_ **

“Why?” Quinlan questioned intent immediately. Why indeed? Why would the _devil_ make him an offer? Why would he need to? Why didn’t he just kill him here and now? Why was he delaying? But the answer was clear. If he killed the _dhampir_ , Quintus would return to _Heaven_ , wouldn’t he? For the first time, Quinlan saw the hint of deception in the Morning Star’s eyes as the angel considered his words _very_ carefully.

“To piss of Ozryel?” Was that a question? “To piss of Michael? He _hates_ you, you know.” Indeed.

“Are those questions?” Quinlan picked at his words. “Or half-answers, [Deceiver](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm)?”

“Fine. _Because she loves you_.” EL spoke frankly as he shrugged. “I made her an _offer_ … **_a promise_**. Regardless if she _remembers_ it now or not, _or if she decided to pass on it_. I like to keep my word, when possible. So, what do you say, _Victus_? Two days of work for a lifetime of peace.”

##  **_Remembers?_ **

Quinlan did not respond and EL grinned, upping his offer further. “Two lifetimes? A hundred lifetimes? How about a THOUSAND? As much time as you want? The farther down the pit you go, the more time you can have. I can give you both _everything_ you could ever want. I can _build_ you whatever you desire. No more being a monster. No more torment. No more sadness. **_No more sacrifice._** And all you have to do to have her back … ” EL pointed to the ground before him. “Is _kneel_.”

##  **_Build?_ **

“Ah …” Quinlan understood, fully comprehending the _devil’s_ silver tongue, fully grasping his smooth words, his _non-lies_ and shiny promises. Quinlan nodded, accepting _this_ was how he had gotten what he had wanted … _from her_. “So _this_ is how you did it. This is how you _broke_ her.”

“Me?” EL feigned innocence, laughing as he did. Quinlan was really beginning to _hate_ that laugh. “You think _I_ did this? You think _I_ broke her?” The Earth shook, rumbling with the hum of his melodic voice. “ ** _You_** _made this possible_ , **_Victus_**. You made **_me_** possible.”

“No.”

“It was actually _you_ that gave me **_hope_** in the end. How funny is that? I had been watching her for her _entire_ life, and I never saw her as weak as she was when she was _with you_. I thought she was _unbreakable_ … _invincible … unconquerable_. But it was _you_ that brought her to her knees, time and time again, and now … _you refuse to do the same for her_. I’m not shocked. Your pride _really_ does matter more to you than _she_.”

“I did not _break_ her.” No. He would not let the Morning Star carve doubt into his heart. “We only served to strengthen each other.”

“It was _you_ that _broke_ her spirit, _abomination_.” EL chortled. "In fact, she was already broken on that rooftop, do you remember it? I do. She closed her eyes and just assumed you were gonna let her die by the Nazi’s hand. And then when you fell in that stairwell, she gave her life to you … without _question_ … without _hesitation_. But was it really for you? Do you think she tried to give _her_ life for _yours_? She was so _tired_ and she wanted to _rest_.” Quinlan understood that EL was attempting to prove his words truth, to drive his point home by disclosing _he really did know everything about them_.

"No.” Quinlan’s marvelous defiance continued to flare.

“The rain isn’t to _blame_ for the crop growing, Victus. The rain simply exists. It is the _farmer_ who’s to blame because he’s the _fool_ who _planted_ the **_seed_**.”

“Clever.” _King of lies … truth … knowledge … doubt. Snake …_ Quinlan sneered at him. “You spin your web of treachery with precision, [Father of Lies](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).”

“Treachery?! Lies?!?!” EL hissed, his long tongue rapping against his fanged teeth with ire. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but you know. _You know_.” He tapped his temple. “We _both_ know that _you_ planted that seed. _You_ planted that _doubt_. You. You were the _farmer_ , Quintus. I was merely the rain.”

Quinlan refused to respond, assuring himself EL’s words were _false_ , but he knew they might not be. The angel’s voice _was_ poison, yes, but only because it was filled with _honesty_ , brutal and merciless. He spoke the truth and that’s where his true power of corruption had always laid. Knowledge and truth. As much as Quinlan wanted to refuse it, he could not and it began to _sting_.

“I was so disappointed in her. You weren’t **_worthy_**. I’ve watched your history through the broken souls that found there way to me. Those dark souls _you_ sent to me. You weren’t worthy, not _of her love_. You definitely weren’t _worthy_ to _fell_ a Hayyoth. Ugly and horrid … but _here we are_ , General _Densus_!” He thrust his arms out and Quinlan could see the armies still fighting behind him. The strigoi were still holding the line and they still had _some time_. The angel was so clearly proud of himself. He despised him greatly.

“No.” Quinlan regained his fortitude. The mention of his _true_ last name afforded him sudden confidence. He remembered that he was _not_ a monster at all, not even a pathetic slave _bastard_. He was born from such amazing strength. Honoria, Sempronius, and _even_ Ozryel. In fact, most importantly Ozryel. And … _he was loved_ by them. “NO. Of this, you are wrong, [Light Bringer](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm). If there was anything that I learned during my short time in _Paradise_ , it is that I am not an evil man, as I have always assumed. I do not possess a _wicked soul_.” 

“Evil? No, I never said evil. Evil is relative, **_Victus_**.” EL explained simply. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? There are no wicked souls. There are no righteous souls. There is no true black and white. We are all just shades of grey, though some,” he chuckled lowly to himself, “obviously darker than others. But our **_shade_** ebbs and flows over time. We change and we evolve. Don’t **_we_** understand this fact better than most?”

“Yes. In fact _we do_. And ugly as I might be, as you have been so kind to remind me, [Son of Perdition ](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm), my appearance does not reflect the worth of my soul. It never has.” Quinlan came to his own defense. For the first time ever, his words were ripe with passion and pride in himself. “Flawed, tormented, grotesque, yes … but I no longer have any doubts, should my soul ever be weighed by [Raqib and Atid ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiraman_Katibin), that I would be found worthy of Paradise, and that I am more than _worthy_ of her love.”

“Prove it to me, _mutt_.” EL demanded. His voice vibrated at a frequency that shot a chill through Quinlan’s spine. There was such incredible power behind it. It was reminiscent of the _Raphael’s_ hum. “ _Prove it to her_. It’s such a simple request, isn’t it? To have _everything_ you want. Just … _kneel_.”

“No.” Quinlan took a deep and prolonged breath but stood his ground. If she was watching, if she could see through his eyes, Quinlan had no doubt that she would be _proud_ of him and his _defiance_. “I will _not_ kneel to anyone … _especially not you_ , [great dragon](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).”

“You know …” EL returned to his previous strategy, trying to chip away at Quinlan’s confidence surrounding their love and his _pride_. “I _saw_ it. I was there when it happened. I heard it. Fuck, _I even felt it_.” The angel stepped forward to intimidate and Quinlan stood his ground. “Out of curiosity … Do **_you_** know when it happened, _mule_? Do you know when you _broke_ her … _beyond repair_?”

“Yes.” Quintus knew what he was implying, but he didn’t agree it was _beyond_ repair. _He knew exactly when it happened_ , long before her visit to Heaven. He remembered when those _damning words_ leaked from his lips. He regretted it the very second it happened, because it was in that precious and bitter moment, when he told her his heart would _forever_ belong to another, that he realized he was hopelessly and fundamentally hers and hers alone. “I know when … ”

“ _In that room …_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _That night._ ” EL was enjoying this so very much.

“Yes.”

“In _that_ instant …” EL chortled. His glee was unbearable. It vibrated through his youthful voice and he laughed merrily with the confession. “I admit it. Sure. I might have done the _shattering_ , abomination … but _you_ …” That smile. Those fangs. He was now fully _something_ else as he spoke. His body became more _snake-like_ and ridges came up around his neck and head as he became half-cobra in appearance. There really was nothing left of her body. “ _You are the one who caused the first chip,_ **_Victus_**.”

“Yes.” Quinlan repeated the words in his mind and he _knew_. _Those words …_ Quinlan _knew_ , as he repeated his _own_ words to himself … he _knew_ what would come next. He knew what the Wheel wanted of him, because it had been his _own_ words … that reinforced what Dawn later saw in heaven.

_Those words._

Those words had been the center of it all. She said it had been the truth … _and it was_. Oh gods. Sandalphon’s voice rattled in his mind as he recalled their conversation and accepted that she _knew_ he would be here, at this time and place, speaking to the devil, bargaining for _his soul_ as well as _Dawn’s_. He accepted that _everything_ she said had been with great purpose. Every word. Every syllable.  

> _“[Love … It is the beacon that guides you **back to her**.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/26604741)”_

_Those words he spoke to Dawn that night …_   

> _“[When we find love … **no matter how wrong** … we must cling to it, it gives us our strength …](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/26604741)”_

A wave of revelation danced over the entire surface of his body in tiny bumps and he felt himself unable to breath for a moment.  

> _“[Love is our grace, but … **love is also our downfall**.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/26604741)”_

_It was in those words he spoke to Dawn that night …_

“She was _so tired_ and that night, my god … you were fucking _perfect_.” EL kissed his finger tips, giving praise to Quinlan’s actions as if it was a magnificent feast. “I _felt_ it happen. **_It takes a massive force to break a spirit like ours_** , and you did it so _swiftly_ … so _mercilessly_. I was _almost_ proud of you …”

“I regret many things in my life.” Quinlan confessed. “But I assure you, nothing more than _that moment_ , [Serpent of old](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm).”

“Then _tell her_ that. Tell her that **_yourself_**.” The serpent shifted and pointed to the ground again. “Bow and pledge your sword to me. Serve me and I will award you with such amazing glory and _treasure_. You’ll find I’m _quite_ reasonable, unlike _my father_. Give me what I want, and I will give you want you want. All you have to do is kneel.”

“He absolutely WILL NOT!” Thunder cracked and as she struck the ground behind Quintus. It cratered slightly and she lifted her blade, pointing its tip at her younger brother as she sneered. Her golden other stood to her side, but his body was covered in _silver lightning_ rather than _gold_ …

“See …” EL giggled, covering his mouth slightly with his hand. “Told you it would piss her off, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!”

 

* * *

 

**[Wings - Hurts](https://open.spotify.com/track/6PAZ0CFnPHWumSQxOvbYOw) **

> _When we stood on the skyline_
> 
> _There was no turning back_
> 
> _And you said not to stare at the ground_
> 
> _There’s a hole in my parachute as big as your heart_
> 
> _And the gravity’s pulling me down_
> 
> _Will you catch me when I fall?_
> 
> _Wrap your wings around my body_
> 
> _When I’m lost in the storm_
> 
> _And I’m calling_

“Please, **_Rael_**. Don’t make me take this leap alone. We were made together. And now _it’s time for us to evolve … together_. Take my hand …” He offered it again and his brother glared at it. “Just as I took yours. Trust me.”

“I don’t want to _fall_.” Gabriel refused. “I won’t _do it_.”

“But, I really need to go now. With _or_ without you. They need me. _He needs me. He needs_ **_us both_**.” Raphael grabbed the staff and stood. He didn’t wish to, but he did. It was time. He could _feel_ it.

“Who? Who needs us?” Gabriel choked. “ _The boy?_ ”

“No, Rael. _Our Light Bringer_. Don’t you get it _yet_?” Raphael’s heart broke as he voiced it finally. “He was _right_ and we were _wrong_. This whole time, we allowed Father and history to painted him the villain, but … _he was fucking right_.”

“What?” Gabriel shook his head. “Right? Now I’m sure you’re _mad_.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go now. I have something _very_ important I’ve needed to tell him. He _needs_ to know it. And it will change everything for him.” Raphael brushed off his robes and tightened his grip on the staff as he _hoped_ for a response from Gabriel. “ _Don’t you want to see him too?_ ”

“You _still_ think you can _save_ him? After _all_ this time, you still think he can be saved?” The Hayyoth stirred further and his arms dropped from his knees as he began to open back up, leaning back and peering up.

“ _Everyone_ can be saved, brother. And he is _so very worthy_ of our effort to try. I will _never_ give up on him. _Ever_.”

“I … _I miss him_.” Guilt washed over Gabriel’s face and his head hung low, unable to keep Raphael gaze, fearful that his other might see the tears that had also welled in his own eyes. “ _I miss him so much,_ **_Phael_**.”

“ _I know._ ” Raphael leaned forward and touched Gabriel’s shoulder, giving it a tender grasp. “I do too. _So much that it hurts._ ”

“I miss _everything_.” Gabriel’s shoulders relaxed and the confession poured from him. “I miss _the old ways_. I miss him. I miss Father … **_I miss Ozryel_** … I miss the Garden … I miss …”

“ _I know._ ” Raphael consoled him, nodding once and gripping his brother even harder. “And I know this is why you cling so hard to everything. But _the old ways are lost_. It’s time to let them go. It’s _finally_ time.”

“ _I don’t know what to do …_ ”

“I know! I don’t know either!” Raphael beamed as only he could. “Isn’t it exciting?!?”

“ _Crazy_ …” Gabriel sniffled the word through his tears. “ _You’re crazy …_ ”

“ _You_ have been the only thing holding me back. _You_ have been the only reason I have delayed, my brother. I never intended to leave you behind.” The smile that accompanied the word _‘never’_ lit up Raphael’s face with warmth. “And I don’t intend to do so … _even now_ … even if you don’t come with me, I will be back. But right now, I have to go …”

“He’s … He’s really there?” Gabriel sighed and looked at the open hand his brother _reoffered_ to him. “You aren’t lying? He’s really there … _on Earth_?”

“Yes, and it’s time for us to go to him, Rael. Before he does something he will regret.”

“ _Lucifer won’t listen to us._ He never did. It’s useless.”

“Maybe not to the _four_ of us … but I am hoping he _will_ listen to the _five_.”

“There’s … _six_ now!” Something genuine and pure sparked in the Messenger’s eyes as the implication of that statement struck him. Excitement danced in his aurora and Raphael _felt_ it. _Change. Growth. Something … someone_ **_new_**. He gasped at his own words. “ _Six. I saw her._ ” His amber eyes grew even wider and he whispered the next part, as if it was a powerful secret. “ _And she’s tiny._ ”

“ _Something new_. We have both lingered in the old ways long enough. Let us join our Brothers in their _ascension_.” Gabriel looked at the offered hand and the tears flowed from his eyes as he finally locked gazes with his Raphael. “It is time to leap from Father’s shadow. Last chance. Come with me or not?”

“But, I really don’t … **_want to fall_**.” Gabriel looked down, shame across his expressive amber eyes, confessing something with incredible guilt. “I’m … _afraid_ … **_brother_**.”

 ** _Brother_**. Raphael beamed again.

“I know. I know. But I am too! It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Raphael smile only widen, his hand still extended to his brother. “Besides, I don’t see _how_ we can even really _fall_. We were made to _fly_ , after all. We were _made_ to soar. It is … _inevitable_. So why do it alone?”

“ _Ok_.” Gabriel accepted his hand and with relief, Raphael pulled him back to his feet. The Indigo Child nodded once and brought the staff between them so that Gabriel could grip it with him. As he accessed its power and began the effort of travelling to a specific place on Earth, Gabriel squinted at his shorter other. “ _Wait_ … **_How’d you get so much more powerful than me?_** ”

“We all grow more powerful with age, _brother_.”

“So what? We all age at the same rate.”

Raphael’s grin turned almost sinister and he confessed something that he had kept from his _precious_ **_older_** brothers. The greatest secret he’d ever had. The greatest and most costly gift The Wheel had ever given him. “ _I am older than you_ , **_Rael_**. _I am older than_ **_all of you_**. _I have been for quite some time now._ ” 

 

* * *

 

 **[Fool - The Sweeplings](https://open.spotify.com/track/47EgFhdL7f00oyhzbKyzzS)**   

> _I should’ve tried harder, tried harder_
> 
> _Fed all those lies to ya, lies to ya_
> 
> _But my blackened soul, lets you come in close_

“ ** _Angel of Death._** ” EL greeted her, stepping to the side so that he could fully view his brothers without the dhampir in his way.

“ ** _[Angel of Light](http://www.markbeast.com/satan/names-of-satan.htm)._** ” Ozryel responded, shifting around Quintus, trying to gain some amount of protection for him by moving between them slowly.

“Michael.” EL bowed his head slightly and Michael returned the gesture.

“ _Little one_.” Michael greeted back.

“It has been a _long time_ since we’ve been _face to face_ , my brothers.” The grin was unnerving, even to _her_ , even though she _knew_ him so well. It was always unnerving.

“ _Too long_ …” Michael said.

“Where are the others?” EL prodded as his eyes shifted back and forth with curios anxiety. She knew he was asking about a _specific_ brother’s whereabouts. “You know, to make it a **_proper_** reunion.”

“I am certain they will be along _shortly_.” She answered and a bead of sweat trailed from her brow and meandered down across her cheek as she continued to angle herself between them and Michael moved in tandem with her. The air was ripe with tension.

“Good.” EL smirked, scraping his right fang across his lower lip. “Good. I look _forward_ to seeing the **_Violet Destroyer_**.”

“He is _not_ your enemy, _little one_.” She came to Raphael’s defense, but EL laughed a menacing bellow into the night sky, arching his back so that he faced the sky while he screamed.

“Of course **_you_** would say that, **_sister_**. Of course **_you_** would come to his defense. You _always_ did.” There was a hint of _jealousy_ in his words. It was clear Raphael had _always_ been Ozryel’s favorite.

“Don’t be such a _selfish_ child. I came to _your defense_ just as often. How quickly you _forget_ that, _bright one_.” She challenged, but she knew it mattered not. None of this mattered. There was no reasoning with him and she _knew_ he was strong now, stronger than _her_ , stronger than _all of them_ in fact. But her plan had simply been to get between the two and now that Quintus was on the other side, she turned to him. “Go. _Now_.”

“No.” Quinlan refused, as she thought he might. “I will not.”

“I said _go now_. It is too late. You are no longer of use … ”

“What? As always.” EL laughed at her command. “I was just making Quintus an offer, which you so rudely interrupted. He’s gonna be _my general_.”

“NO. This ends now. You have taken _enough_ souls this day, _Lucifer_.” Michael’s sneer was _full_ of passion and Ozryel used the moment to lunge with incredible speed and intent, but as her blade swung at Lucifer, he had already parried the strike and she was face to face with her little brother as he flashed his marvelously white fangs at her. Her attack was paralleled by Michael, who raised his own blade, but the Morning Star had already pulled the staff from his back and blocked them both with grace.

When he thrust them away, they flew in unison as he sparked. Thunder rocked the area as the _Hands_ rolled across the ground violently. _Damnation_. She attacked again, swinging wildly as her body sparked with furious _silver light_ and she screamed as she did. EL danced with her, bobbing and side stepping with ease, but one of her strikes was gloriously timed and the _edge of her blade_ struck his right forearm, lodging into the flesh and cutting through one of its bones.

“Ozryel no!” Quinlan awoke from whatever fugue state was plaguing him and he screamed, his voice cracked, the pain so rich in it that it broke her heart to hear it, but she continued to slice, searing and burning the _Morning Star’s_ flesh without hesitation. She had _never_ heard the gladiator beg for _anything_ in his life. “ ** _Please do not do this!!!_** ”

“Oz!!!” Michael bellowed concurrently. “Please!!!”

“Pathetic!” EL chortled as he took hold of the blade itself with his left hand and thrust the handle of it back squarely into her face. “That blade couldn’t even _destroy_ you … and _you_ … you are a _shadow_ compared to me!” As she stumbled back, EL looked down at the massive wound in his right arm and reformed the flesh _instantly_ and _perfectly_. “It’s quite telling though … You’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d _destroy_ her body … ”

“Oz …” Michael’s voice was barely a whisper. All confidence had departed the angel.

“To save the world? To save everything that’s _savable_?! Yes.” She turned to her Other, not bothering to hide the shame that welled in her eyes. “Absolutely. _Because it is our_ **_duty_**.”

“ _Please_ …” Had it been _Michael_ or had it been _Quinlan_ that pleaded with her? In fact, had it been both? But really, did it even matter?

“It is _too late_ for her. _We were too late_. I am _so very sorry_.” Her own tone was rich with agony. “But we _must_ hold on to what _hope_ we have left. We must–”

 

* * *

 

##  **_Hope._ **

“I understand now … ” Quinlan interrupted her, speaking with a tone that was so solemn and uncharacteristic, they all turned in unison and found him staring at the ground, facing no one in particular. “ I understand now why **_you_** consider me unworthy and I accept fully that I _have_ been wanting in that respect.”

“Oh really?” EL bit. He could _hear_ the devil’s smile through his words alone.

“I have _never_ been more than just a weapon. And I have always done what is necessary for the _greater good_. I have always given, _always sacrificed_ , letting those I love and those who love me to pay the price for this … _responsibility_.”

“Then don’t.” EL responded, though Quinlan knew the Morning Star would _regret_ that response. Every part of Quinlan’s being vibrated with great _purpose_. _This …_ **_this has always been his destiny_**. Everything else had been just a stop along the way …

He continued, never lifting his eyes from the ground as the confession continued to pour from him and he was very careful. Careful with his words and careful with his eyes. “I understand now that _that_ was exactly what tainted **_your_** opinion of me. You assumed I would do what **_you yourself_** did not … could not … do.” Out of the corner of his eye, the angel to which he spoke to stirred slightly. “That I would chose _duty_ over **_her_** well being.”

“I don’t fault you for that, abomination.” EL sighed. “We’ve all been _his puppets_ at one time or another. Every single person here, in fact. The question is … _how will you prove your worth to her now?_ Show humility. Bend your pride … _and your knee_ … for her. _Bow_.”

“Quintus–” Ozryel tried to argue with her assumption that he was accepting the offer from the devil, but Quinlan interrupted her.

“But now … I see myself clearly through the judgement of **_your_** eyes. **_You_** were faced with this same choice … and **_you_** chose _her_. **_You_** chose _love_ and I accept and fully understand that **_you_** _will not_ accept anything less than complete devotion for her. She deserves no less than pure and _absolute_ loyalty.”

“What?” EL responded. “ _Wait_ … What are you talking about?”

“She did not give up on me. I will _never_ accept that. She pushed and she pulled and I _felt_ her. I felt _her_ every single day. I felt her _calling_ and I felt _her_ need. I shared it. She crossed boundaries that were _impossible_ … _for me …_ **_only for me_**. And now … _now_ it is my turn to do the same.”

“Quintus …” Ozryel tilted her head as she examined his strange demeanour. “What are you about–”

“I may not deserve **_your_** respect. Not yet, but I _will_ earn it. I will prove to **_you_** , _and to her_ , that I am, indeed, **_worthy_**. She has faltered … _and now I must bolster._ ”

“Quintus?” She whispered but it was too late.

Quintus turned, facing Ozryel and Michael. He stepped between the twins and the _Morning Star_ as the rainbow child began to chuckle. “Good.” EL smiled, falsely accepting that Quinlan turning his back to EL and facing the twins, that he was accepting the offer. “Then you join me.”

“Quintus … What are–” Ozryel whispered but his words began to resonate in her mind and in her heart as the dhampir was staring directly into _her other’s_ eyes. In the next sweeping, beautiful moment, they _all_ realized in unison he wasn’t talking to Lucifer at all …

“ _As we both know … as_ **_our poet_** _once said to me …_ ” Quinlan’s mouth curled up at its side as he smiled sadly. “ ** _Love is our … my … downfall._** ”

They knew the instant the dhampir raised his head and locked eyes with the green-eyed angel. Lucifer’s head was tilting but he could not see anything from his point of view. When Quinlan had turned his back to him, he was not abdicating power, he was not accepting _the offer_ , rather he was shielding the angel from his intentions and suddenly everything was moving as slow as possible, or rather, Quinlan was moving as fast as he could and everyone watched with painful slowness, his entire body crawling with purple light as he used up the remaining amount of Raphael’s borrowing power to move faster than Lucifer could stop.

He had pulled the bowie knife, the same one she had thrust between his ribs when they first met, the same one that she took her own life with, from its location tucked secretly in his belt and it was already pushed against his ribs at that _most deadly angle_. He could now stare at nothing other than the red eyes of his maker as he began to slide the cold metal into his body.

“No!” Ozryel tried to move the instant she saw the glint of silver in his hands, but Michael’s grip was already on both of her biceps. She turned to look up into her other’s eyes with the gut-wrenching betrayal rich in her eyes and she found Michael’s eyes solemn and merciless as her other held her back, preventing her from sprinting to Quintus. Michael gave a single nod to _the dhampir_. “NO!” She wailed.  

> _You said it yourself, Oz._

“NO!!!”  

> _She’ll_ **_only_** _listen to him._

Desperate to pull out of his grasp, she regretted _charging_ Michael as he held her back with her own _bloody_ divinity. Her mouth flew agape and she was already screaming with agony he had only heard once before. It was the same agony that Michael had expressed when Gabriel had cut **_her_** into pieces.

“Noooooooo!!!!” Watching in horror, she was as powerless as Michael was that day. She watched as _her dhampir_ did something terrible. Something truly selfish. Something _forbidden_. _“PLEASE NO!!!_ ” She screamed as he fell to his knees, having pierced his incredible heart and his blood flowed out of his body. She heard him, he was speaking quickly to her in his last fleeting moments of life.  

> _Ozryel. Focus. FOCUS. We have but seconds. Quickly …_

He was fading … _she could feel it …_   

> _You must_ **_give_** _me everything you know of Hell._

And she complied … _fully_ and _instantly._  

  

* * *

**[Thunderborn - Really Slow Motion](https://open.spotify.com/track/7xT9g3Fa8dKKALsOCw1K60) **

EL was moving as soon as he realized what was occurring. Michael was holding back Ozryel. Ozryel was screaming and then Quinlan’s body danced with indigo energy. Raphael wasn’t even here and he was _still_ a thorn in EL’s side

 _Shit_.

The Rainbow Child had already crossed half the distance to the dhampir when he heard the blade slide into his flesh.

_Shit. Shit._

Pushing himself to move faster, he couldn’t. Quinlan’s borrowed power afforded him the same speed EL possessed. When he reached him, the dhampir had dropped to his knees and began to fall backwards into EL’s awaiting arms.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

“I don’t think so, _you slippery little fuck_.” EL waved a hand over the bleeding wound, commanding the knife away and he weaved the flesh back together while Ozryel screamed in the background. “There we go.” Quite pleased with himself, he cracked a smile and then turned his attention back to Quinlan’s face, which was now devoid of anything. His pale blue eyes stared blankly in no direction in particular and EL realized there was nothing left in the body. The dhampir’s soul had already parted.

_Shit._

He blinked several times, unsure how to process what just happened. “ ** _Well shit._** ” He shoved the limp body away from himself, flipping it over onto its face. He grunted with disgust and stood. “Well _that_ was fucking dumb.” Finally releasing his other, Michael pinched his eyes shut as Ozryel lunged forward, dropping her blade to the ground as she threw her arms over her son’s dead body.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no …” She pulled him over and patted his face several times, staring into his blank eyes. “Quintus!?! Quintus!?! Quintus?!?! No, no, no, no, no!!!” As she pleaded and cried, she checked the location of the wound and then called him back again _and again_ , but there was _nothing_ she could do. _He was gone_.

Michael and Lucifer watched silently in shock, unsure of what to say or even do. Even the Morning Star hurt at the torment rich in her voice. “You …” She looked up at her youngest brother, her face wet with anguish and snot. “You did this. _You did this_.”

“Me? I didn’t do **_this_**.” Lucifer stepped back and touched his chest innocently. All playfulness was gone from his voice. “I didn’t tell him _to kill himself_.” He protested the accusation. “I offered him a _job_!”

“You …” She was sneering, reaching for her blade. “ ** _YOU DID THIS!_** ” Lunging violently towards him, she thrust her sword and the area shook with furious rage. Thunder cracked and she swung wildly at him, screaming incoherent obscenities, but the Morning Star was faster.

Sidestepping a particularly sloppy swing, he grabbed her wrist and stepped behind her. He gripped her hand against the handle while he kicked a knee out from behind her. Ozryel came to her knees, facing Michael and the Morning Star wrapped his arms around her, forcing the edge of the blade up to her neck with her own arm and the sharpness began to cut and sizzle against her skin.

“Lucifer.” Michael stepped forward, one hand coming up, palm out. “Don’t. Please.”

“What?” The Rainbow Child purred into Ozryel’s ear as he stared into Michael’s tormented face. “We both know it won’t kill _her_ … for long … **_We are eternal_**.”

“Do it, you _shithead_.” She egged him on but Michael stepped forward again. “DO IT! I don’t want to hear your shit voice anymore!!!”

“Please. I beg you …” Michael tried to take another step forward but the sinister grin that cracked across the Morning Star’s face caused him pause. “I have _never_ begged you for anything. Don’t take her from me … _again_.”

“Alright. _Fine._ For you. But …” Lucifer rolled his head and stared at his favorite brother. “I’ll still need to make an example of her.” He brought his left hand up and whispered the Enochian word for Diminish into his massive, golden ring. “Peredazore”. it changed before their eyes, burning with a rectangular amber glyph and Michael’s eyes grew wide.

_HIS RING. LUCIFER HAD HIS RING!_

_OH … SHIT._

_NO NO NO NO …._

“ _NO LUCIFER!_ **_NO_**!!! _You little shit_!!!”

The Morning Star moved to press the brand against Ozryel’s neck and Michael sprinted, grabbing his wrist and holding his little brother’s hand back with all his might. Ozryel struggled with the blade at the same time, keeping it from cutting her head off completely and Lucifer grunted with fury, fighting against each angel with one arm. “UGH! Get off me! She asked for this! SHE ASKED FOR–” Lucifer complained and there were several seconds of tug of war before something rumbled in the distance, coming closer and closer _and closer_.

They knew that noise. They recognized it instantly and they froze in their positions as the wind blew intensely. Amber and purple lightning sparked in the new clouds above and shot down from the Heavens before the squabbling brothers As the light retreated, _Raphael and Gabriel_ stood, _side by side_ , staring at the almost comedic scene.

Neither Ozryel, Michael, _or_ Lucifer had moved yet. They just stared at the new arrivals with _mild confusion_. Lucifer wasn’t commonly without words, but he was unsure how to greet his _massive brother_. He could only furrow his brow with uncomfortableness. Ozryel broke the silence.

“ ** _Good lord_** , Gabriel.” She tilted her head to the right and cringed. “Where on Earth are your pants?!?”

 

* * *

 

**[The Scientist - Julia Westline, David Meshow](https://open.spotify.com/track/3QvM5jasThiIAgmQyOCk6H) **

> _Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry_
> 
> _You don’t know how lovely you are_
> 
> _I had to find you_
> 
> _Tell you I need you_
> 
> _Tell you I set you apart_
> 
> _Tell me your secrets_
> 
> _And ask me your questions_
> 
> _Oh, let’s go back to the start_

And in his arrogance, in his desire to _corrupt_ Quinlan, the Morning Star had given _much_ away and rekindled Quinlan’s _hope_.

 ** _First_** , _she existed still_.

 ** _Second_** , _that existence was in Hell_.

 ** _Third_** , _if Hell was malleable to Lucifer, just like Heaven, then it would likely be to Quinlan as well_.

 ** _Fourth_** , _Lucifer had said, ‘regardless if she remembers it now or not’. Why did he take her memory? If he was in complete control, why would he bother_?

 ** _Fifth_** , _if Lucifer was connected to her this entire time, then she was also still connected to him_.

Thomas had told the dhampir of the several occasions where _she_ had forced the Morning Star back. To save the Nazi’s life and then later when she overcame his control in the nightclub.  

> _Keep him distracted. Either I reach her … or I gladly **let the world burn** in her memory_.

As he faded, his mind repeated it and he spoke it to Michael, forcing it across their connection. Quinlan repeated it to himself, over and over _and over_ again.

##  _****I gladly let the world burn in her memory.** ** _

This time was _very different_ than last. When he had crossed the boundary of life and death the first time, when he had witnessed _The Face of God_ itself, his death had been instantaneous. No pain. No thoughts. Just a blinding light and he was back in his _home_ , or a fabrication of it. But now, he faded slowly.

##  _****I gladly let the world burn in her memory.** ** _

He felt his body give way and he fell to his knees first and then gravity took him and he fell backwards, but he didn’t hit the ground. Instead, he was cradled from behind by the _Morning Star_. The angel had come forward to catch him … _to stop him_. His _rainbow_ eyes were the last thing Quinlan saw as he was sucked viciously into hell. The last feeling he had was that the _angel_ was healing his body, but it was _far too late_.

##  _****I gladly let the world burn in her memory.** ** _

Instead of a bright light, as before, he was faced with utter darkness as multiple voices sounded off concurrently in his mind. It was a combination of Barqan, the Wheel, and _his poet._

He had asked …  

> _But how can an immortal die_?

The marid had replied …  

> _What is death, prince of snakes_?

He had argued …  

> _But Rubinstein killed herself, and I assure you she resides in Heaven_.

The marid had explained …  

> **_Intent_** , _my prince. It is all about_ **_intent_**. _It cannot be done out of sacrifice. It must be done with_ **_selfishness_**. _Your ruby-haired doctor did it to save the world_.

Yes. **_Intent_**. He had to be _very_ careful with his intentions, _but it wasn’t that hard_. There was simply nothing more that he wanted than _her_. No more _sacrifice_. No more _regret_. No more _greater good_. As he faded, he embraced that single thought, over and over again.

##  _****I gladly let the world burn in her memory.** ** _

And then _those words_ , echoing and burning in his mind …  

> _“[I have loved one and only one in all of my life, and I plan to ONLY love **her.**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/20143117)”_

_Those words_. Vicious, merciless, and utterly _true_ , repeating in the darkness … guiding him. Giving him purpose.

> _“[My time here draws to a close, I can feel it, and whatever **afterlife** awaits me …](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/20143117)”_

_Those words_ , that she had accepted as _the truth_ and he later denied, repeating in the darkness … pushing him. Giving him _hope_.

> _“[Whether it be the fields or **Tartarus** , whether it be Heaven or even **Hell** …](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/20143117)”_

_Those words_. He had to tell her. _He had to tell her._ She was right. They had been the _truth_ … Just not in the way that either of them had assumed.  

> _“[I go there with her on my mind and in my heart, always.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/20143117)”_

_Those words_ that _broke_ her … They had actually _never_ been about Tasa at all … They were about _Dawn_. They had _always_ been about _Dawn_ …

##  _****I gladly let the world burn in her memory**.** _

**_Intent._ **

Quinlan felt the pit accept and engulf his tormented, perfectly **_selfish_** soul, welcoming it fully into _damnation._

* * *

“We’ve defeated the Morning Star before. I don’t see why we won’t win again …” Uriel shrugged. “Without his little _Time Prophet_ , it should be even _easier_ this time, won’t it?”

“Brother, you have no idea what it cost Raphael to defeat Lucifer at the _Battle of the Garden_.” She shook her head at his arrogance. “You have no idea **_what price_** he had to pay and what that meant for the future of everything. Lilith was the only reason Lucifer held back. Without her to worry–” Everything shifted all at once and Sandalphon lurched forward in her seat, gripping both sides of the table as she exhaled dramatically. She took several deep breaths and relaxed fully in her seat. “Finally.”

Uriel felt the change. The pulses had stopped and everything was moving as it should again. “What _the hell_ was that?!”

“They are _re-aligned_ now.” She gave a cryptic explanation. “ ** _It has begun._** ”

“What does that mean?” Uriel’s face contorted with worry. “You said _she was in hell_ … what does that–”

“ _Everything depends on Quintus now_.”

“What does that mean, Andy?” Uriel was overcome with worry and he looked into her uncharacteristically sad eyes. He could tell she had little confidence in her own words.

“It means the last of the Hayyoth has finally _fallen_.” She sighed.  “They are aligned again.”

“So what happens next then?”

“ ** _Damnation_**.” Sandalphon frowned. “ **… and then … _change_**.” 

 


	100. Fan Art - Walks in Beauty

  
  


## ‘She Walks in Beauty’ by Lord Byron. | Dawn & Quintus from the fic ‘A Savage Inconvenience’

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

#### Fan Art by the incredible [quintustheinvictus@tumblr](quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com). 

Original post [here](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/170879230965/she-walks-in-beauty-by-lord-byron-dawn). Please go give it a reblog/like. Thank you!

 


	101. Art - Happy Valentine's Day

> ## “For nothing this wide universe I call, 
> 
> ## Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.”
> 
> ##   – W. Shakespeare
> 
> _Happy Valentine’s Day, Quinlan Fandom._


	102. Interlude 11 - … but a whimper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but powerful. The last Cabin interlude. If you were around last year, the first Cabin chapter in A Savage Inconvenience (16.7) was posted on Valentine’s day 2017, and now the conclusion of The Cabin happens a year later. I do wish I had gotten this out yesterday, but alas … I was instead having a lovely dinner with my husband. :)
> 
> Now for some angst. Sorry.

**[Goodbye (with Soap & Skin) - Apparat](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6BJXuY0lY0EUtSDCgkYnqE&t=ODk0ZmFjYWE0MGI5N2UwOTAyODcwMjdjYWI0MDgxZDVmOWVjZTJlYywxc0cySHZYZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170929237443%2Finterlude-11-but-a-whimper&m=1) **

> _Find out_
> 
> _I was just a bad dream_
> 
> _Let the bed sheet_
> 
> _Soak up my tears_
> 
> _And watch the only way out disappear_
> 
> _Don’t tell me why_
> 
> _Kiss me goodbye_
> 
> _For Neither ever, nor never_
> 
> _Goodbye_

“When you locked me in that room …” She asked, her tender voice nothing more than a whisper as she pulled her shirt down, covering the skin of her stomach from his eyes for what he assumed would be the very last time. “If you really think that you’ll die when _it_ does … **_your master_** …” This use of words was clearly meant to be condescending. “ _If you_ **_really_** _do think that …_ then …” _Uh oh._ “You had no intention of coming back that day, did you?” There was anger in her voice, even a hint of disgust.

“I am certain the others would have let you out–” He tried to explain himself but expecting this response, she interrupted him swiftly.

“That’s not what I asked or _why_ I was asking.” Her lips pursed together tightly and she closed her eyes. “You had no intention of coming back … _to me_ , did you?”

“No. I did not.” He admitted without hesitation. “There was no intention of coming back … _at all_.” He embraced the shame his confession brought, and its bitterness laced his voice. “It _was_ my destiny …” He caught himself slowly. “It … _is_ … my destiny. It has always been.”

Quinlan would learn in these fragile minutes, in these fleeting seconds as they redressed themselves, their last moments together, that her silence was far more painful to him than even her _anger_ or her _defiance_. As he pulled his shirt on, he waited for her to stay something … _anything_ in response, but she took each sock and carefully put it on, never once looking back up to him. He was such a quiet person and he’d nearly forgotten that she was one as well. In these hours, there hadn’t been much silence between them but he could feel the harsh judgement coursing through her veins.

When she reached for her first shoe, he could take it no longer, throwing out an ill-prepared excuse, but he was hoping it would incite some amount of argument with her. “If you recall, you _were_ very displeased with me that day.” She said nothing in retort and he watched with stillness as she tied the laces meticulously and reached for the next shoe. “You were going to leave.” _Him_. “ ** _Us_**.”

“Is that how you try to justify it to yourself?” She responded coldly. “Sounds like _an excuse_ to me.”

“Do you deny you wished to leave first?” Quinlan realized he shouldn’t push this line of reasoning. Nothing good would come of it but he felt himself unable to stop. It _would_ have worked against someone _less_ intellectually gifted as her, but …

“You _know_ why I was leaving.” _Those words._ Hmmmm. “Or do I need to _remind_ you what you said–”

“No.” He retorted quickly, not wishing for her to utter _those damned_ words back to him. “I require _no reminder_. Please …”

“And … ” She queried as she pulled the boot on. “What is it exactly?”

“What is _what_ exactly?” He blinked at the question

“Your _destiny_?” She waved her hands around, making fun of the word before she began to methodically tie her laces. “What _is_ it exactly?”

“It is …” He swallowed. “It has always been … _to end his foul scourge_. To be _his_ undoing.”

“So that’s it? That’s _all_ you are? That’s all you _want_ to be?” She finished the knot with forceful inten and finally looked up into his pleading eyes. “Nothing more than a _weapon_?”

“It is not what I _wish_ to be. It is simply _what_ I am. I have little say over _what_ I am, I assure you.” This was a poor explanation, but it was the only one he could offer, though, for the first time _in a very long time_ , he doubted that. The happenings of _this_ day was proof, even in his own eyes, that he was capable of so much more than _just_ being a weapon. That he had more to offer the world than _just violence_.

“But why? For what _purpose_?” She pushed and he understood exactly where she was going with it, even if she had not yet. He had thought about this very thing for nearly two thousand years. He had considered everything before … had he not? “To save the world? To _protect_ mankind? Do you think _they_ …” She paused as she took a deep breath. “Do you think **_we_** are worthy of the price you’ll have to _pay_ for it?”

“If I am the only one capable of _paying_ this **_price_** … if I am the only one who can _save_ this world, then do you not see that to me, _there is no choice_.” He sighed. “Either I _sacrifice_ , so that **_others_** may live … **_or we all are sacrificed_**.”

“I don’t accept that.” She shook her head at him, standing from the couch and pursed her lips in refusal. “There is _always_ choice. Always opportunity.” Her tiny fists clenched as she spoke, biting back the anguish rich in her light voice. “Always … _hope_. But now … now you just want to give up. And I don’t think it’s like you to _just_ give up either. This isn’t right. _What aren’t you telling me_?”

He paused and he knew she felt something was off. He had considered telling her everything, but the weight it would leave on her soul was selfish and so he responded with feigned annoyance. “Heh. I think you misunderstand the definition of _destiny. There is no choice in it_. I have never had–”

“That’s bullshit.” She interrupted and his eyes grew wide at the increasing volume of her voice. “You realize that, right? You have choice in _everything_ you do. You are not an autonomous–”

“You speak of _choice_ … but, pray tell, what choice is that?” He matched the growing anger in her tone, but he regretted it immediately. This wasn’t how he wanted to end things and he was _not_ angry at her, or her words. He was angry at the world. He was _angry_ at his _destiny_. He was _angry_ at **_fate_**. “What is it you wish to do? You wish to _run away_? To flee from _The Master_? How long would that last? How long _could_ it last? And do you not even realize what _that_ choice might cost … ”

“Cost?” Her head tilted inquisitively at the question. “Cost to _who_ exactly?” Her lovely eyes squinted at him and he could _hear_ the underlying anger only growing. “What it would cost _you_? _Me_?”

He couldn’t tell her that _that_ choice would cost _her very soul_. “ _Everyone_. The World. What it would cost _the world_. What it would cost civilization …”

“I don’t _care_ about _the world_.”

“That is quite a _juvenile_ statement.” He urged himself to keep it together but desperation took hold and his words became hurtful in an attempt to shut the conversation down. “Honestly, I expected more _maturity_ from you than this …” Stop Quintus. Don’t say it. “ _This_ … _this childishness_.”

“Childishness? Fine.” She shrugged, staring at the ground with blank eyes. “Then I’m a _child_. Whatever. I don’t care. I DON’T CARE what you call me. It doesn’t change the fact that this is _bullshit_. And you aren’t telling me something …”

“Dawn.” He took a step forward and gripped her arms. He didn’t want it to end like this. _Please not like this_. “This is _not_ easy for me … This is _not_ what I wish–”

“What _you_ wish? What about what _I_ wish?”

“Dawn …”

“Because I …” She swallowed hard. “ ** _I would gladly let the world burn …_** ” She looked up at him, her eyes red with intent and tears. “For just one more day with you …”

Unable to respond immediately, he took her head in his hands and pulled her against him, crushing her cheek against his chest as he felt her heave in anguish. “I would not wish that … I could _never_ wish that … _because_ **_you_** _would burn within it_.”

“That’s not fair …” She tried to pull away, but she was powerless against his strength and he held her against him, not realizing this would be their final loving embrace.

“Surely you understand that I do not save the _world_ for **_them _** …” He _knew_ this was futile, but the words escaped him nevertheless.

“No. You do it because you want to die.” She was _so very wrong_. “Just say it. You can’t wait to _move on_ , can you?”

“I have lived for so _long_.” He wanted to stay. More than ever before, he _wanted_ to stay. “You are still _so very_ young … _you can still have–_ ”

“Young?” She balked at that statement, pulling out of his arms and he allowed it. She almost coughed at the ridiculousness of his statement. “I’m _not_ young anymore. I’m not like you, _Mr. Quinlan_.” That _damned_ name again. “My life is half over. And not only that, the best parts are already done … _and I’ve wasted them_. I’ve wasted my life on people who _used_ me.”

“Nothing is _wasted_. _You can still have–_ ”

“Why bother?” She questioned. “To be a nobody again?”

“ _You have_ **_never_** _been a nobody._ ” He had to tread carefully. He could not make any argument that could be thrown back at him, as it seemed she was quite adept with that tactic. “And I _hope_ that is not the case. I _hope_ that this _future_ I afford you will be a _bright one_. And I _hope_ that you take advantage of it, _in everything that it might offer you_. And I _hope_ that whatever might await you, that you will live it to the _very fullest_.”

“Right … _My Future_.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ll be _too busy_ with _your afterlife_ to worry about that.” He understood her words were _not_ actually as petty as they sounded. He understood that she was just _angry_ , like he was.

_He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. His afterlife … He wasn’t going to it. He wasn’t going to his family. He wasn’t going to Heaven or Hell. He was giving it all up. He was choosing oblivion … for her sake._

“ _Exist, Libellula. At all costs. Whatever it takes. Do not allow my sacrifice to be in vain._ ” He fought the twitch that begged for escape, but he lost that battle and his head and neck convulsed. “ ** _Promise me this much_**.”

_Please … not like this …_

“ _I wish … I wish you had just let me die on that rooftop._ ” These would be their final _private_ words together. She couldn’t look at him while she said it and this hurt him the most. She stared at the ground and then turned to leave the cabin swiftly. He would follow her closely through the woods, trudging through the foot deep of snow. He would reach out and attempt to help her through the more difficult terrain as her short legs hindered her more than him, but she would pull away from his aid and there would be nothing further spoken between them.

_Please … Do not let it end like this …_

He twitched, trying to resist the urge to pull her back and kiss her one final time, to whisper into her ear … _one final time_ , but he didn’t. He watched in silent grief as she pulled the door open and walked back into the company of their companions without ever glancing at him. As the door swung shut behind her, Quinlan stood alone in the utter darkness of night, surrounded by the cold and the stars _and the wind_ , unable to move for several seconds.

He felt the outside pocket of his wool coat and slid his gloved fingers over the letter within. She would be fine. She would be taken care of. She would have _everything_ of his and she would _never_ want or need again. In fact, without _him_ , without his monstrosity, she would be better off.

He reassured himself this lie, over and over again before forcing himself to open the door and finalize his _destiny_. 

  


 

> _Art by[@quintustheinvictus](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/170879230965/she-walks-in-beauty-by-lord-byron-dawn)_


	103. Fan Art - Through Dragonfly Eyes

 

[alexologyart](https://alexologyart.tumblr.com/post/170953996970/to-see-my-world-through-your-dragonfly-eyes): 

> **_“To see my world through your dragonfly eyes” | Dawn & Quintus in Rome._ **
> 
> _“For the first time in over a millennia, he wanted to stay … here with her. He wanted to show her his home; he longed to take her to Rome, Greece, Barcelona. He wanted to experience the old world again for the first time, through her eyes, with her smile and her wonder”_ — from the Strain fanfic “A Savage Inconvenience”, Chapter 16.7
> 
> Fan art for my beloved friend [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA) HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
> 
> [[INSTAGRAM]](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBfRUNaAgY5q%2F&t=MmJjMzdmMWYxMzBhMWMzYWZkNWY4MWVmODg1ZWM3NGJhY2M3NDdiMyxsZHNkSXpCaA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170954227853%2Falexologyart-to-see-my-world-through-your&m=1)

##  **_I love it._**


	104. 12.1 - Damnation

**[Umbrella (Epic Trailer Version) - J2, JVZEL](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1b7vsnmC27hxeCWtqWLa0p&t=ZmFkNGU5YmYwYzExMjhjNzI3YTRjYzMzNmUwZDkwMTQ3NGYyMjgxYSxMYlVTQU1HTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171359322393%2F121-damnation&m=1) **

> _You can run into my arms_
> 
> _It’s okay, don’t be alarmed_
> 
> _(Come into me)_
> 
> _(There’s no distance in between our love)_
> 
> _So I’m gonna let the rain pour_
> 
> _I’ll be all you need and more_

Was he _dreaming_?

There was light. It was distant yet still overpowering. He cringed at its presence and after several blinks, his eyes adjusted slowly to its intensity and a blurry bedroom came sharply into focus all around him. His head throbbed fiercely and for a moment, he was lost in flurry of hazy thoughts.

_OH GOD!_

Panic set in and he sat straight up in bed, lurching forward as he frantically pushed the sheets away. His heart pounded and a growing feeling of _frenzy_ rocked him from his grogginess. He nearly jumped to his feet before … _her melodic and familiar voice_ eased his strange panic.

“Hey you. Still jet-lagged, I see? It’s time to get up!” She chimed from within the large walk-in closet. As she came into full view through the large arched door, he spun around to find her already fully dressed and ready for work. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his waking state or maybe he had just simply had too much _celebratory_ wine last night, but as his eyes fell upon _his lovely wife_ , he grimaced.

“What?” She stopped mid-stride, seeing the disappointment spreading over him. Her brows pinched as she stared at his face and continued to fiddle with her long earrings, fishing its metal hook through her ear lobe. “What is it?” She immediately prodded, glancing at her own attire as she smoothed the silky fabric over her slender physique. “Does it not look good? I thought you _loved_ this skirt?” He should have said something, but his nose furrowed at the very sight of his beautiful dark-haired wife. “Good lord, what is it? Is it the _shoes_? Are the heels too high?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. No. I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” It really wasn’t _nothing_ , but he could read the look on her face clearly and his _disappointment_ , where ever on _Earth_ it had stemmed from, had caused her worry. He stretched slightly as he got to his feet and crossed the vast room to comfort her.

But it was already far too late. Her growing anxiety was clear. “What is it? I know something’s wrong? What is it?” She stumbled and turned to look through the archway at herself in the full length mirror in their luxury bathroom. “Is it the top? Too revealing?”

“It’s nothing. It’s really _NOTHING_. I’m sorry. It was just … _a_ **_very_** _long day yesterday._ ” He attempted to assure her, standing beside her as he planted a tiny and strangely _fleeting_ kiss on her forehead. “You look _lovely_ , _Anastasia_. You _always_ do.”

“You aren’t kidding me, are you? You’d tell me, right?” She queried, purring out the syllables in her posh London accent, while frowning at him through the mirror the entire time. “First days are important. I want to … _I need to_ give them the best impression possible.”

“They’ll be speechless … Regardless of how stunning _you absolutely look_.” He kissed her olive-skinned forehead once more and pulled her against him as he joined her in staring at her reflection.

“Oh crap.” She glanced down at her watch and hopped away from him, attempting to latch the wayward strap on her high heels as she danced on one foot towards the door. Reaching it, she stopped at and steadied herself with one hand on the door frame while she latched the remaining shoe. “I gotta go … _right now_. Sorry. Please make sure _Sarah_ is up and on the 6th Avenue line _no later than_ 7:30 if she’s to make it to school on time. There’s a Metrocard _for each of you_ on the counter. They’ve spent a _lot_ of money to move us here.”

He smiled at her overly managerial nature and nodded, feigning childish compliance. “Yes, mother. Thank you.” His humour fell on deaf ears and he could clearly read the nervousness on his wife, so he reassured her one final time. “You’ll do fine. You’ll do beautifully.”

“Yeah well …” She smirked and he knew from her devious smile that the next thing out of her mouth was about to be snarky. “ _Be a good house husband_ then and …” She waved a hand around at all the boxes stacked haphazardly around the room. Yesterday’s move-in was an overall success, regardless of the delays from the broken lifts and the moving company had left them _many_ things to unpack and sort out. “Empty _at least_ five boxes today? At least _three_ in the kitchen please. Remember, we’re having my cousin over on _Friday_ for dinner.”

Her quip wasn’t appreciated and he found himself frowning back at her with discontent. There were many fights over this very fact. He would have to find a company to sponsor a work visa for him and given his _past_ … “Friday?” His nose curled in annoyance. “That’s awfully soon, isn’t it? There’s no way we’ll be unpacked by then. Can’t we put it off a bit longer?”

“He’ll understand any mess and … he’s the one who recommended this place. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.”

“Can’t we just … I don’t know, put it off for a fortnight, or …” He sighed. “Go out to dinner or something easier?” She read the growing annoyance spreading across his face and she danced back across the room, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned forward to kiss him. Staring into his disappointed eyes, she tilted her head to the right. “Do you already _regret_ coming here?”

“No. No. No. Absolutely not.” He returned her embrace, weaving his warms arms around her, he planted a kiss on her forehead. “This is a _new start_ right?”

“It’d better be. I bloody hate moving …” She forced a fake smile and uncomfortable tension built between them as she pulled away and moved to take her leave. “At least 5 boxes!” She reminded once more before she was gone, shuffling about noisily in the other room for a moment before he heard the front door open and shut with a loud bang.

**[Crazy - J2, StarCzrLilly](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F13LUHs02tu4SKYDU87cG5E&t=ZWU1YTY0NDIwMzg5OGQzMTY0NjBhZDA1ZDY2ZDg5MTk5NzcyMmFmMSxMYlVTQU1HTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171359322393%2F121-damnation&m=1) **

> _I remember when—I remember, I remember when I lost my mind_
> 
> _There was something so pleasant about that place_
> 
> _Even your emotions had an echo and so much space_
> 
> _And when you’re out there without care, yeah, I was out of touch_
> 
> _But it wasn’t because I didn’t know enough_
> 
> _I just knew too much_
> 
> _Does that make me crazy?_

Alone, he stared blankly at the ground for a moment, trying to decide why he felt like he was forgetting something. He was still standing before the large arched opening into the contemporary bathroom, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of panic as he surveyed the room, trying to assess if the _itch_ stemmed from the stress of the move and the large task of unpacking before them.

He couldn’t shake the feeling he _needed to do something_. Something _important_. After several breaths, his eyes floated across the boxes again. Boxes and boxes. _Everywhere_. Good lord. He _hated_ moving. Didn’t he? Was that a question? Or was it a statement? It was definitely a statement. Right? Yes.

He spun, surveying the room and he caught a glimpse of his own figure in the full-length bathroom mirror. He had been so enamoured with his _beautiful_ wife earlier, he hadn’t actually gazed up himself and this caused him pause as goose bumps flooded over his warm skin. He stared across at the mirror. He looked fine. In fact, he look precisely as he should. He was tall and slender. Athletic in build. Blonde with blue eyes. His skin was fair but adequately tanned. Even his overly boring cotton pajamas accentuated his physique in a flattering manner, and yet, something eerie washed over him as he looked upon … _himself_.

Something was _off_. In fact, something was downright bizarre. As he squinted, strange thoughts ran amok across his foggy mind. He desperately needed to do something and his heart began to pound with an overwhelming sensation of … _purpose_.

_What the hell was it again?!?_

Tilting his head to the left and then to the right, he wondered if it was something about his reflection. Wait, had he gotten marker on his face when they were moving yesterday? Had some ink rubbed off from the labels of one of the cardboard boxes? He was certain it had as there was something smeared across his face. Across his forehead and cheeks. Something streaked …

He stepped closer to the mirror, approaching it slowly, staring at his visage carefully and that unfamiliar feeling only intensified as he came closer _and closer_. But as he closed the distance, the markings seemed to fade a little more and a little more with each step. When he was less than two feet from it, he looked entirely _normal_. _Normal_? He looked … _like himself_. Didn’t he?

He leaned forward and touched his skin, poked it, moved it around, and then pinched it with his fingers. It was _soft_ and _warm_ and … _hairy_. There was significant stubble across his cheeks and chin. He chuckled at it as he considered trying to locate the electric razor out of whichever box it might be lurking in, but he dismissed the thought. He had no job to get to and it seemed like such a _useless_ endeavour anyways. Maybe he would try to grow out his beard? He chuckled out loud again at the thought of that, but he wasn’t sure what he found so amusing about it. Eh. He’ll worry about it later.

He gave one final glance at himself and smiled. “One handsome bloke, aren’t you?” He normally wasn’t one to talk to himself, or even _praise_ himself, so his own statement caught him off guard. The strangeness of it all caused his grin to fade as the goose bumps returned, racing across his skin and he shook himself.  

_Focus. Get moving. She’s counting on you to prove yourself to them again. Focus, Alex._

First, to get _The Teenager_ up. This has always proved a difficult task and as he stepped into the living room, he found her already up, and dressed to boot! She was standing in front of the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal with her nose stuffed into her cell phone.

“Blimey!” His shock was substantial. It usually took quite a bit of effort to get her _out of bed_. “Are you ready already?” How unusual. Perhaps this _new life_ would be good for _all of them_. “What did you do with _my real daughter_?” He jested.

“Did you see this _shit_?” She said, her mouth half-full of Cheerios and she looked up, waving her smartphone towards him.

“Language, young lady. We’ve discussed this.” He reminded her as he looked through one of the open boxes for a mug. Unable to find one, he opted for a pint glass and shoved it under the Keurig. After pushing the button, he spun to squint at the phone over her shoulder, his curiosity winning over his disapproval of her language. “See what? What is it?”

She pointed to a news story on her screen, explaining it quickly, half-full of glee and half-full of horror as the single-serve coffee machine behind them purred into action. “Last night, they say some _crazy_ hooded homeless man jumped out of a five story window downtown and then started to _cut people up with a bloody sword!_ They said he offed at least ten people before he was …” She read the words verbatim from her screen. “Subdued by the police for … _psychiatric evaluation_.”

“Jesus. What? _Where_?” He would have snatched the phone out of her hands to read, but the coffee was finished and he spun to retrieve his much-needed caffeine and inundate it with sugar and cream. He detested _black coffee_. “That’s … _insane_.”  

_Bloody America. Quite literally._

“Why did we move here again?” He _knew_ she was going to turn this into an argument against the move … _yet again_. “Can we go home yet?”

She hadn’t been happy about the move and clearly, _still_ not happy. He opted to ignore the rhetorical question and attempted to retrieve the creamer from the fridge. “Where the hell is the cream?!”

She looked up from her bowl, guilt spread across her face as he saw the _empty_ bottle of cream sitting on the counter, next to her. “Sorry. We didn’t have milk … _I had to improvise_.”

_Bloody hell._

* * *

**[Likeness - Lawless, Little Ashes](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4Qj1IBwpqbrVwG9TQ7ZxHb&t=Njc3ODkxNDdkZjIwZDYxNGQ1NjRkZjFhZTNjODFmMmY0M2Y5MWViNyxMYlVTQU1HTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171359322393%2F121-damnation&m=1)**  

 

> **_Teardrops on your skin_ **
> 
> **_And it burns_ **
> 
> **_It burns_ **
> 
> **_The fire inside is a blinding star_ **
> 
> **_And gravity will keep us close together_ **

“Bloody hell. Dodgy lock. Ah! Shoddy _American_ craftsmanship!” Panic set in again, overwhelming him as he heard the elevator down the hall _ding_ loudly, proclaiming it had arrived on their floor and he struggled with the keys, trying to turn them in the lock, but the door gave him considerable trouble and the newspaper, tucked under his arm, fell to the ground. “ _Son of a …_ A little help please?”

“Why _the hell_ are you in such a _rush_ today?” His _daughter_ mocked his attitude and offered him no help.

“Language. I promised _your_ mother you wouldn’t be late.” He chastised her quickly for her use of word again and finally the lock _clicked_ shut and he turned, galloping down the hallway towards the lift. They were already running late and he _knew_ that damned machine would take another twenty minutes to get back to this floor. With the other two being ‘Under Maintenance’, this had left only the middle one to service the entire forty floor building and this fact had plagued them greatly yesterday during the move.   

> **_And there’s darkness in the light_ **
> 
> **_There’s darkness in the light_ **

If he was quick enough, he was certain he could catch it. The doors were _just_ beginning to close. “Hold the lift please!” He called out, his voice full of mild panic as that _feeling of need_ began to overwhelm him again. His heart raced and his pace quickened. “Please hold the door! Good lord.”

Everything seemed to _almost_ slow as he ran and he could _hear_ someone inside the elevator hitting one of the buttons within repeatedly. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ His first assumption was that they were attempting to hit the ‘Door Open’ button, but as the metal continued to close right before him, he realized they must have been hitting the ‘Door Close’ instead, otherwise wouldn’t they just _hold the bloody door open by hand_!   

> **_Take me out of the dark_ **
> 
> **_And bring me back to the star_ **

“ _Sorry_.” He heard a _light_ female voice ring out from within the compartment and there was a hint of _laughter_ in it, though he couldn’t see anyone yet. She was hidden off to the side. No doubt, hiding themselves _from_ him on purpose.

 _Bloody Americans! He was in a hurry! He had to get to …_    

> **_Supernova dreams_ **
> 
> **_You’re in the final league_ **

“ _Oh, bugger_!” He panted in frustration and he _could_ have grabbed the door. He made it there in time in fact. But he paused … He stood right in front of it, getting a full view of the person who was hiding from his view off to the side. He could have just reached out and caught the door, but he _paused_ as he gawked within, his heart catching in his throat. Later, he would reflect on this moment and come to the conclusion he was certain she had been gawking back at him as her frantic assault on the ‘Close’ button abruptly halted and her devilish smile faded from her face. And that both of their mouths were agape at nearly the exact same distance.   

> **_We fall closer_ **
> 
> **_We fall closer_ **

But in this moment, in this fleeting and torturously short instant, he was too distracted to do anything but _stop_. And it wasn’t because of her pretty oval face, or her too slender physique. It wasn’t even her straight brown hair or her glowing olive skin that gave him _immediate_ pause.

 _No. It was simply her eyes._ The majority of their color was a rich green, but the outside border of her irises were a dark teal and tiny, almost unnoticeable, flecks of amber sprinkled near her pupil. It was … the most intense feeling of déjà vu he had ever felt.

“ _Oh …_ ” It was all he could manage before the doors shut between them and he stood motionless, attempting to compose himself, attempting to force himself to take _a breath_. Sarah hadn’t run with him, of course, and he could hear her meandering up the hallway behind him, her nose likely stuffed into her phone. Normally, he would be annoyed at this attitude, but it gave him the moments he needed to collect himself. Though his pulse still raced, he felt an immense wave of _relief_ wash over his body and that feeling of _rush_ that had been plaguing him all morning melted away.

_Jesus._

He didn’t need to get anywhere after all. _He was right where he was supposed to be_. And oddly, _he felt … alive_. He smiled slightly as he welcomed it.   

> **_And it makes me feel alive_ **
> 
> **_It makes me feel alive_ **

“Well that was _dumb_.” His snarky daughter quipped from behind as she stepped to the side and pressed the button again. “Why didn’t they hold it? And why didn’t _you_ hold it?”

Taking a deep step back, he glanced up at the lift’s current location. It stopped two floors below, likely picking up another passenger on its agonizingly slow journey down. “I …” He shook his head. “Sorry. I–”  

“Don’t worry about _her_ , _pet_. She’s been rude to _everyone_ since she got here.” The voice was frigid and cracking. They both turned in unison to see an elderly woman standing no more than three feet behind them. He might have jumped at her sudden, stealthy appearance, but he was far too distracted by her almost _plastic_ facade. She was slender and _very_ old. Her skin, like sun-baked pale leather, was pull taut across her sunken cheekbones. Her hair, pulled into a tight and perfect bun atop her head, was whiter than her skin. Standing perfectly straight, both hands gripping an immaculate white wooden cane carved with all manner of flowers and leaves, she smirked, flashing unnaturally white and perfect dentures. Her clothing was gray and the only bit of real color on her entire being was her hazel eyes. “ _Quite …_ **_unfriendly_** , _that one._ ”

“Pardon?” His nose furrowed as he pinched his eyes at her. “Who … who _was_ that?”

“That?” She thrust her chin towards the lift entrance. “That was _trouble_ , _my pet_. That was 2719.”

“2719?” He repeated the number with curiosity, turning back to glance towards the elevator, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the doors. The number obviously indicated her apartment number. The unit on the very end. The one that shared a wall with his … _theirs_. “That’s …” He smiled a bit. “That’s a _prime_.” What an odd thing to say, but he didn’t care. It felt so right. So _perfect_.

“ _Indeed_ , _pet_. It is.” The old woman purred, amused by his words. “It is, indeed.” Her face squished into a fury of wrinkled lines as she smiled at him, flashing those wickedly fake teeth again. There was somewhat of an accent in her words, but he couldn’t really put his finger on it. Perhaps _Italian_? Perhaps a mixture of things? “Trust me when I say … _She is nothing but trouble_. Her kind always is. I promise. But I …” She giggled, feigning a blush at him. He was certain her skin wasn’t capable of showing any color anyways. “I am _nothing_ but _fun_.” As she thrust her hand towards him, he hesitated at taking it, but realized his distaste for her appearance was nothing but rude and he accepted the gesture, trying to shake it gently as he might just _break_ the seemingly fragile old thing. “I am 2700, but **_you_** _may_ call me … **_Cora_**.”

_Such an odd wording. It drove a chill down his spine._

She tried to force her hand, still in his grip, upwards towards his mouth, clearly an indication she wished him to kiss it, but he held it steady and instead shook it again, releasing it as soon as he could. “ _Alexander Quin_ … well, just _Alex_ really. We just moved into 2718.”

“Oh I know.” She giggled. “Oh how I so enjoy _new things_ … _people_.” Her smile unnerving and she blinked at him, looking over his body quickly. “Quite strapping, aren’t you?”

This discomfort was enough and he turned, ignoring her comments about his body. “And this is my _daughter_ , Sarah.”

“Not _your_ daughter.” It was a _statement_. “Surely not, _pet_?” Cora continued her uneasy smile as she looked the teenager up and down slowly, with judgemental eyes. “You are _far too young_ to have such _an old thing … for a_ child …” Her words were ripe with condescension and a hint of jealousy.

“Actually, he’s not.” Sarah sneered in response to the insulting words. “He’s my _stepdad_.” _Stepdad_. Alex _hated_ that word. He had adopted her ages ago but when she was annoyed, she threw it at him unabashedly. It was clear she was not enjoying the old woman’s company and she hit the button to call the lift a couple of more times to express her growing distaste.

The lift! He glanced up at its location and noted it was _still_ in the same location it had been, two floors down. The stairs were just to the side and he grinned. Two floors down? They could catch it! Maybe it would even stop again. Endowed again with great purpose, he pointed to the stairwell door. “Come on … let’s go. Hurry up.”

“Wait? What?!?! The stairs?!” Sarah glanced up from her phone, detesting the idea immediately. “Are you mad? We’re on the twenty-seventh floor!”

“Come on. You should have run with me. We might be able to catch it if we hurry. I’m not going be lectured because _you missed your train_.” He began to step but the old woman spoke again.

“ _Oh here …_ “ Cora thrust the newspaper he had dropped earlier She wasn’t holding that earlier … _was she_? “You wouldn’t want to _forget_ this … _would you, my shiny, new 2718_? People are so _forgetful_ these days … ”

“Thank you! It was nice to meet you. We’ve got to go, sorry to rush off …” He lied, snatching it and provided a fake smile and nod before he gripped his _daughter’s_ arm, pulling her towards the stairs. The lift had begun to move again.

 _Bullocks_.

As the door to the stairwell began to close behind them, he heard her frigid voice one last time. “Do come and visit me sometime. I get so lonely. I’d love to chat a bit, _Missster Quin–_ ”

The door shut and her sentence cut off, but he didn’t delay. Not for an instant. He began to skip steps as he threw himself haphazardly downward. At some point, he heard Sarah calling for him to slow down, but his pushed forward. He began to skip two steps, then three, then he used the railing to bound dangerously down half of an entire section. After he had made it five levels, he went for the door, hoping to catch the lift by pressing the button in its hallway, but it had already passed by, yet only by two levels.

 _Bugger_!

He ran back to the stairs, deciding that he was possibly gaining on it, but checking on it had proved to only delay him catching it. Only if it stopped at another floor would that _risk_ pay off. If it went all the way down then checking per floor was … _just a waste of time_. That logic would plague him later, as he would realize he was no longer simply trying to catch the elevator for their use, but instead … he was trying to beat it to the first floor, before it could open and his _prey_ would escape.

 _2719_.

But … _prey_? That wasn’t a _good_ word to use, but his mind was a flurry of purpose as he continued his mad race, as he continued _his hunt_. _So close_. He was … _so very close_. Tenth floor … Sixth floor. Fifth floor. Fourth … Perhaps it was this wild rush of the end of his _pursuit_ that made him fumble the last step, but he wasn’t entirely convinced of that. No, not entirely, at least. He stepped right, but it was as if the final step leading to the third floor landing seemed to vanish from beneath his step and he fell forward, crashing into the stairwell’s brick wall shoulder first and temple second. His head swam from the impact.

“ _OOooof._ ” He grunted as he caught himself before he slid down to the ground. His ankle a fury of painful throbbing and he should have rested, but he thrust himself back from the wall quickly, stumbling slightly as Sarah came into view two floors above him, having been incapable of keeping up with him.

“Oy! Are you alright?!”

Ignoring the prod, he continued on, undeterred though somewhat crippled as he limped his way down the remaining floors, bursting out into the empty lobby, just in time to see the elevator doors closing. Spinning around, he saw _no one_. Where in the world could she have gone so quickly?! No one. The area was vast and both exits would have taken some time to get to. _She was like a bloody ninja_!

Sarah burst through the door, panting from exhaustion, just in time to see him pound his fist against the wall next to the lift like an unhappy child.

 

* * *

 

 _She_ watched _him_ and the young girl walk out of the building from the window on the third floor. She kept her eyes fixed on him until he disappeared into the subway entrance a block down the street before she took the stairs to the lobby. Entering into the brisk fall air, she pulled her coat closed around her and rounded the corner to her destination, her favorite coffee shop. As she waited in line to place her standard order, she thought about it _over_ and _over_. Her annoyance began to peak.

Was this a game? Was it a joke? Was he _laughing_ at her? Regardless of what it was about, she wasn’t amused. Fishing her phone from her pocket, she dialed her brother’s number but was hit with voicemail immediately.

 _Not even a ring_.

“Call me back when you get this.” She was curt and highly peeved. “We need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

Ana’s instructions had been clear. Five boxes. _And at least three from the kitchen_ , but he finished unpacking the _entirety_ of the kitchen and half of the bedroom so far. That was at least _fifteen_ boxes, but he had stopped counting after ten. He had always been an over-achiever, but he knew he was simply trying to distract himself from the happenings of this morning. His head, his ankle, _and_ his ego were hurting.

Halfway through _one_ of her boxes of shoes though, he’d hesitated on even unpacking this particular box as she was certain to rearrange those oh-so-precious items herself, but it was the last of the closet boxes and he was pedantic that way. Half hanging out of one of her tennis shoes, he saw a suspicious rectangular shape. After he fished it out, he shook his head in annoyance. It was a half-filled box of cigarettes with an almost empty lighter shoved within it.

“Nice. So much for being _honest_ with each other, right …” He shook his head. She said she quit smoking five years ago, but this pack was fairly new. They gave it up together, hadn’t they? He considered lecturing her, or just tossing them and then he thought about just putting them back in the shoe. Perhaps he should just let her have this _little secret_. He had no right to be angry about this, right? Especially given what he had done … _no_. Don’t think about it. This was a new start. _This was their new start_. He shoved the memories from his mind and stood, moving towards the kitchen trash can.

But he found himself pausing, holding the half-filled pack over the bin as he stared at it curiously. He couldn’t, for the life of himself, remember what it had even been like to _smoke_ them in the first place. He remembered _doing_ it, but not the sensation of it or what he might have even gotten from it. Bringing it up to his nose, he took a deep sniff of the aroma, hoping that it might trigger something more, but he was left with a feeling of nothing.

He had a _thought_ and he wasn’t sure why, but he looked around the apartment suspiciously, suddenly feeling a wave of _guilt_ and _paranoia_. No one was there. No one would know. Would they? He glanced at the balcony and something itched at him.

 _Sure … Why not_?

**[Heart of the Darkness - Sam Tinnesz](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6UhBVXf3Sh7BWDEC6oJocn&t=ODczNThhY2E4ZDNjMWFjMjIwNDg4ODRjZmQ2NWZlOGNlNWQ5ZmY4NixMYlVTQU1HTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171359322393%2F121-damnation&m=1) **

> _Hold fast we must be brave_
> 
> _In the heart of the darkness_
> 
> _In the heart of the darkness_
> 
> _Quiet it’s swallows us_
> 
> _What’s waiting around the corner_
> 
>  

As he began to slide the glass door open, he heard _her_ speaking softly in the distance.

 _Good lord. Was that?! Yes. He recognized the light voice. It was her. 2719_. She was … _outside_.

At first, he hesitated, not wishing to intrude into a private conversation, but this was _his balcony_ right? He proceeded to open and shut the door as quietly as he could and he looked around the small, private patio. Each unit’s balcony was inset and somewhat private, but their spaces were no more than five feet away from each other, a four inch ledge running the distance.  

He leaned over the railing, glancing in the direction of the voice and he glimpsed both of her hands gripping the rail momentarily before he pulled back quietly to shield himself. Relaxing his back against the wall, he tilted his head towards the building’s edge as he listened.

He really _should_ make some kind of noise to let her know she wasn’t alone. He really shouldn’t be _spying_ , but he couldn’t pull himself from her delicate sentences. She spoke quietly, _almost_ unintelligible, but he could still decipher the words as well as the trembling sorrow laced deep in her tone. And it helped considerably when the _wind_ ceased.

And he listened, unlike he had ever done before. Intently and carefully. Every intonation, every fluctuation of her words, he absorbed and catalogued. And it was not only _what_ she was saying, it was not only the _words_ that escaped her mouth, but he _felt_ the emotion that poured forth within them.

At first, he assumed perhaps she was on the phone, but there was no lull in the conversation that allowed anyone else to speak. No, she was talking to someone and it was clear they were not present to hear her. There was something familiar with this … somehow … he _knew_ it, didn’t he? _It was grief. Defeat. Despair. Loss …_

“I started training again. I know I don’t need it anymore, but there’s this new dojo that just opened down the street and I think it’d be fun to get back into it. The sensei is … ” An uncomfortable pause. “… _simple_.” She feigned a laugh. “I think you’d like him though. You two have similar … uh … **_interests_** … ”

Though he felt a deep sense of guilt at this continued intrusion, he found himself unable to do _anything_ but stand and listen.

“I started an online _Latin_ course today. It’s a dead language but … I like it … “ Her voice wavered slightly. “I like the slow lessons … you know … ” A small chuckle. “You know I do … ” The sentence never finished, trailing off with sorrow when something clanked to the ground at his feet.

 _Oh … hell_.

The damned lighter had slid out of the cigarette box and he stared down in horror at the small object as he froze, gutted that he might have just given himself away. Not moving a muscle, he even held his breath, waiting for her to continue speaking. Instead, he heard hurried footsteps and then a door slid open and then closed _loudly_.

“Nice one, Alex.” Could he be _any more_ of a clumsy fool today?! He gripped his forehead, forgetting about the sensitive bruise on his temple and he cringed as he pulled his hand back quickly. “ _Bloody hell._ ”

 

* * *

 

The _marid_ collapsed into the large, throne-like chair and relaxed back into its uncomfortable embrace as he nursed his dislocated shoulder, prodding it gently. He would need to snap it back into place, but … he would take a _very small break_ first.

“Sir?” The Commander of the Guard pressed. “Sir, should you really be–”

“Give me a minute.” Shaitan growled. He was in _no mood_ to be lectured, especially _not_ by his underlings. His patience was unrivaled in hell and the Commander took a deep step back, reading this dangerous mood clearly.

One breath. Two breaths. Three. He cracked his neck and then stood again, gripping his right arm with his left hand and he torqued it savagely back into place, without making even a peep. Another breath and he turned to survey the extent of the damage to the throne room. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have brought the halfling to the tower. He underestimated him.

He had wanted to have _control_ over their unexpected visitor, but the gladiator proved _more difficult_ than any of them could have imagined. Once he had freed himself of his restraints and _his cell_ , _hell had ensued_.

“Sir–”

“It’s fine.” Shaitan dismissed his underling’s concern with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine now. We’re fine. We just need–”

“Fine, Sir?” The Commander coughed. “Did you ask the Morning Star–”

“Did I ask him?” Shaitan spun, his eyes wild with madness. “OF COURSE I ASKED. He’s not responding anymore. He’s pulled himself through completely! We’re cut off. He’s–” He stopped and pinched his eyes shut. “It’s fine. The gate is still open. Everything is going as planned. _It’s fine_. We are still marching.”

“Sir …” He could tell the Commander didn’t wish to push him, but the soldier couldn’t help himself. “Should we really just … _leave him in the Cage_? Shouldn’t we keep them apart–”

“ _Keeping them apart is what caused this_!” Shaitan waved a hand at the twenty foot doors, which had been vertical a mere thirty minute earlier, but now were cut in two and strewn across the throne room’s cobblestone floors. The rest of the tower looked much worse. “And I did not **_PUT_** _him in the Cage_! He cut his own way into it! He was looking for her!”

“But Sir … Time passes _quicker_ there. He’ll have _more_ time. Shouldn’t we–”

“Enough.” Shaitan took a deep breath. “The Cage has the highest walls in Hell. There is no better place for him right now. It was made to hold something just _as strong as_ he.” He doubted his own words and he found it difficult to retain his own confidence in his tone.

The Commander swung around, his eyes dancing across the ten-foot broken porthole-like window, which overlooked the vast pit below. This was the path the dhampir had taken into the belly of hell itself. Smashing through it, he had barrelled into the pit without hesitation or concern. “I actually doubt _The Maiden_ is anything compared to … _him_.”

“Even so, she’d fair far better against him than _any of us_ could even hope.” He turned, approaching the round, broken window and glanced down to see the army still marching _painfully_ slow through the open gate.

“She’s _mad_ , Sir. She’s … _unpredictable_.”

“Oh yes. But if Lucifer trusted her enough to watch his _niece_ , then we have to have faith that she will do whatever is necessary to keep them **_both_** complacent. She wants _out_ as badly as we all do, Commander.”

“Complacent, Sir?” The Commander shook his head. “We _already_ tried that. We already tried to rip his memories from him. Many times. Nothing _stuck_. He’s–”

“I know. He’s _Hayyoth_.” Shaitan accepted the statement. “But _now_ … now … he has everything that he wants. **_Everything_**. I’ve built him a scenario, which I _expect_ will keep him … **_distracted_** for a while. The perfect mixture to keep them apart. We don’t need him to remain complacent indefinitely … just long enough …”

“Long enough for what exactly? If he wakes _her_ up, then–”

“Long enough … for _Lucifer_ to win.” Shaitan feigned a smile and gripped the Commander by the shoulder, cringing through the pain it caused him to do so. In hindsight, he deeply regretted attempting to tussle with the dhampir. He had seemed so … _tiny_. “Have _faith_ , my friend. It’s almost over. Our time here is …” His heart raced at the thought of it. “ _Almost_ over.”  

__**Credit** : The Ru Gifs featured in this section were lovingly adapted and manipped from the fabulous @5disilk blog._ **  
** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it? This chapter came out very late as I struggled a bit with writing it. It was something entirely new and I went over parts of it several times. As any writer, I’m not 100% satisfied with how it turned out, but I think it's best to let it out into the world now.
> 
> So, as you can now tell, Hell is going to be a bit of an AU (Alternate Universe) of sorts. I apologize if this chapter was a bit boring and OOC, but that was all very much intentional, and it will begin to speed up as far as events go. Quinlan will start to come out a bit more and more as time progresses. Don’t expect this to be as long as Heaven was.
> 
> Hell should be wild and strange ride. Please bear with me.
> 
> At the very least, it should be fun to watch my lovely protagonists fall in love all over again … shouldn’t it? And I _promise_ this will not be a _slow burn_.  
> 


	105. Art - Dawn

_The next chapter will be out in the next few days_ _(possibly even by tomorrow).  It’s coming along slowly but surely.  Until then, here’s an adorable commission of Dawn by the talented_[@pauzamro](https://tmblr.co/miQ5TdOX-Mujt4qTjTMGupQ) to tide us over.  


##  _Please Enjoy!!!_


	106. 12.2 - Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more than just a little bit late. Apologies for the procrastination. I’ve had this chapter rattlling around in my mind and my dreams for over a year now, and it’s been quite difficult to get out.
> 
> You might not like some parts of it, but do read it to the very end please. It's importance will come to full clarity in part 6. It is CRUCIAL in fact, and for the best possible reasons.
> 
> Thanks and stick with me! :-*

“How was your day?” Ana directed the question directly to her daughter and Alex shifted in his seat at the dinner table. He had been on the receiving end of _that tone_ a few times and he understood the accusation hidden within it.

“She was on the train on time this morning and–” He attempted, all at once, flushed with defensive purpose, to come to Sarah’s defense, even before he understood what any of it was about, but his wife quickly cut him off, never tearing her eyes from the sixteen year old.

“Did she now?” Silence fell on the dinner table and Sarah shoved a slice of pizza into her mouth and shrugged, answering the question without bothering to chew first.

“It was fine.”

“Was it now …” This wasn’t a question. It was a sentence that lingered, trailing off deliberately and Alex fought the urge to interject again. It was mostly out of pure curiosity as he could _read_ some tension building between his women. “How did you get along with your new advisor?”

“Fine.”

 _Hmmm._ _Uh oh._ Understanding the situation, Alex set his own slice down, without even taking a bite from it and interlocked his hands on the table as he stared upon his nervous daughter.

“What was his name again?” Ana pressed.

“Uhhhh …” She took a large bite of her slice, trying to hide her words under the muffled chewing of food. “ _Mr. Parker …_ ”

“Huh.” Ana grabbed her wine glass, tilting a gentle drink of it into her mouth before she squinted at her daughter. “I could have sworn it was _Mr. Ence_.” Sarah froze. Her eyes lifted slowly from her plate to meet her mother’s stern gaze. “Or at least … that’s what he said his name was … _when he called me today_ … to ask why you didn’t _show_ up.”

Silence. Uncomfortable and agonizing … _silence_. There was no movement from either. All chewing from the teenage ceased and the food within her mouth laid dormant in its position. He knew them and he knew this would go on for quite some time as Ana commonly used _The Look_ to get what she wanted out of both of them. He would have complied with the tactic, if he wasn’t suddenly so disappointed himself.

His nostrils flared as his mouth curled up in his characteristic cringe, glaring at the girl. “You … you didn’t get off the train?” He gawked at her and she stared down at her plate in shame. “You _told_ me you would get off the train. You _promised_.” He was half angry at her and half angry at himself. He had been given a task and he had _trusted_ her …

“I did …” She swallowed her food and shrugged, the guilt rich in her adolescent voice. “I did. I just … I just got back on it.”

“It took _a lot_ to get you into this academy on such short notice.” Ana didn’t waiver in her chastising. “It took–”

“I know.” Sarah mumbled, pushing her plate away. “I know, ALRIGHT!”

“If _you know_ … then why–” Ana began and Alex pinched his eyes shut. His wife’s tone was increasing, which meant, the child would begin to match the animosity. Tit for tat. Biting his tongue, he leaned back and watched the irrational argument ensue.

“Because I don’t want to be here!” Sarah retorted. “I _told_ you I didn’t want to–”

“It’s not about what _you want_! We came here for a new start and–”

“A new start?!” The tone ratcheted up to the next level. Good lord. “A new start?! I had to give up _everything_! My friends, my school … _Bobby_!” He was wondering when she would bring up that indolent _little shi_ … young man. “All because … all because … **_the two of you_** couldn’t keep it in your _fucking_ pants!!!”

His head tilted to the right as the first curse word was unleashed. “Language. Please.” He attempted to begin to diffuse.

Ana’s mouth fell agape. “What did you just _fucking_ say?!”

“ _Language_!!!” He slapped the table, with enough force that it distracted the two women from each other and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he rolled his head in aggravation. What a _brilliant_ way to spend their first dinner here together. It seemed as if the escalation might begin again as Sarah’s mouth dropped open for her next retort when an equally loud _bang_ against the north wall thundered through the flat and all three of them to jumped in unison. _Wait_. That was the wall that they shared with … 2719.

A muffled, _yet intriguingly familiar_ , voice sounded, bellowing at them through the drywall. “HEY! THIN WALLS HERE!”

Oh good lord. _Oh good lord. Oh no …_ Their neighbours could _hear_ them arguing?!? Embarrassment washed over everyone and they guiltily looked around at each other.

“Language.” He said again, but this time at a decent volume. “ _Please_. Language, please. Let’s just … “ He took a breath. “ _It’s been a stressful week_ already and … can’t we just have a decent family meal without bringing up–”

“Family meal? You’ve gotta have a real _family_ for that.” Sarah stood, grabbing her phone as she sneered towards them. “I wish you had just gotten a _divorce_ like normal people.” The last insult was intended to burn and she stormed off, leaving her meal unfinished and her parents destroyed from the jab.

“Bloody hell … She … _she knows_?” His wife asked the question, but the answer was obvious. They had never mentioned their _problems_ to her.

“I don’t imagine she wouldn’t.” He shrugged, staring down at his own untouched food. “She’s quite sharp … _just like her mother_.”

Ana pinched the bridge of her perfect nose and shook her head as she pushed the plate away. “Well, this was a lovely ending to an already stressful day.”

“I apologize for the … _pizza_. I …” He had unpacked, but hadn’t even thought about dinner or groceries. Being the one in charge of the domestic duties was proving more troublesome than he had assumed.

“It’s fine. I’ve lost my appetite anyways. I’m going to have a bath.” She brushed her mouth with the napkin and began to stand from the table, grabbing her wine as she went. “My cousin phoned earlier. He might have to go off on travel and was hoping we could push up the dinner a few days.”

“A few days?” Alex stood, returning his slice to the box and closed it. His own appetite clearly gone as well. “To when?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Wait, what? Tomorrow night?!” He paused, his mouth falling slightly agape. “Bloody hell! This place–”

“The kitchen looks great.” She shrugged. “He said he’s bringing a _friend_ , so we should accommodate _two_.”

“Fine. Whatever.” He hadn’t the strength to fight her on this further and he opted to melt back into his chair and take a long drink of his wine instead.

“It’ll be fine. There’s a restaurant down the block that offers takeaway. We’ll just order from them.” Placing a kiss on his forehead on her way out, she offered him a compromise. “But … he _did_ mention he’d missed my mini cakes. Do you think you can visit the market tomorrow for the ingredients? I’ll make a list for you and everything.”

“ _Fine. Whatever._ ” He really didn’t want to, but he had no excuse against it. “Text it to me.”

_Grocery shopping …_

_Good lord._

_What has his life come to?_

* * *

He knocked on the teenager’s door and waited for permission to enter. Silence. He rapped again. Nothing.

“I’m coming in. I’d much rather you _invited_ me.”

There was a muffled voice, and though he couldn’t translate them, he took it as permission and twisted the knob. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her face buried into her phone, likely texting that _shithe …lad_. She could be doing much more productive things with her time, as she hadn’t unpacked a single box yet, but he wouldn’t push that now.

He sat on the edge of her bed and she pulled away from him slightly, frowning as she did. “When did we stop being friends?”

She didn’t respond verbally, but instead shrugged and kept typing into her phone.

“I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I.”

No response. She began to tap her thumbs against the screen more fervently and he reached out, placing his hand against its top edge and he pushed it down, out of her view. “But this is _good_ for your mother _and_ good for her career.” He kept his hand over the device and she finally met his eyes as she rolled her own, showing her childish disgust.

“We both have gotten what _we_ want for a very long time, I think it’s only fair that she have a go at things for a change. Don’t you?”

This young woman was like a lock box, but he would not be deterred. He knew her. She was not irrational, or incapable of compassion. He just needed to tap into that hidden emotion.

“I know this isn’t London, but come on.” He grinned. “This is _New York City_. You can’t tell me you aren’t just a _little bit_ excited to be here.”

She shrugged and relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall as she sighed.

“Well …” He matched her sigh. “I really hope you made getting us in trouble worth it. Well, what did you do all day on your own?”

“I …” She pouted. “I went to the Museum.”

“A museum? Really?” He was both surprised as well as shocked. He had always wished she would show interest in something other than _her phone_ , and he had hoped it would eventually come with age. Perhaps this was a sign of _growth_ and maturity. “Seriously? Are you getting into history and art finally?”

“No _silly_.” She leaned forward and reached for her backpack on the ground, beginning to fish around in its main compartment. “There was this really cool exhibit I wanted to see before it was over.” She thrust a flier towards him.

“You could have just asked to go you know. We could have caught it together …” Accepting the paper, he squinted at it, reading it over. Yes, _definitely_ not about _art_ or _history_. Damn. Something about _monsters_ and _movies_.

“It’s over soon. I didn’t want to miss it. But, I guess you’re right. London would never have something like this.” He knew she was manipulating him into seeing the _benefit_ of her excursion with his desire for her to _be at home here_. He didn’t care what its intention was, as she was now talking, and with conversation comes understanding.

He handed it back to her, not wishing to read further about such pop culture nonsense and he smiled. “Next time, just work with me. We’re all in this together alright?”

“Yeah … Ok. Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

**[Easier - Mansionair](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3nATeGcFdtkhpUrRvgr667&t=ZmRjMjgzN2Q5M2I3ZTJiOTJhYTg2ZmI3NDE1MDYzOTA0MzJhMjkxYixFb01QWnVucg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171907838098%2F122-damnation&m=1) **

> _Face up, I’ll lose_
> 
> _Craving for some feeling_
> 
> _Game’s up, we’re nowhere to be found_
> 
> _I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m stuck here in my skin_
> 
> _I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m stuck with you_

She was reading when he eventually made his way to bed. _Unfortunately_. He had secretly hoped when she went to bed earlier that she would be fast asleep when he finally broke away from the computer, but she was still very much awake and she watched him walk into the room. As he closed the door behind him, he saw her eyes peering over the upper edge of her thick book, through her teacher-like reading glasses, watching him.

“Finish up what you needed to?” She prodded and he slipped into the closet to put on something more comfortable.

“Yeah, I did.” He lied readily. He had written _something_ , but not anything close to what he had marked as his goal for the day and definitely not anything that would be remarkable.

“How many words did you write today?” She picked at him, easily detecting the uncertainty of his fib-filled words.

“At least a thousand … _I’m certain_.” He lied further and she grinned at him as he came out of the closet and headed towards the bathroom to give his teeth a cleaning before he would finally join her.

His writing. His book. _Good lord_. He had no idea what to even do with it yet. No job. No employer. He had come with the intent of _doing something_ with his time at the very least and this was his decision. But that was honestly as far as he had gotten. A plan. A thought. A dream … A book, but what on Earth would it be? Would it be fiction or nonfiction? A biography or a screenplay? Perhaps _Poetry_? The last idea lingered on his mind, but he dismissed it as simply _foolish_. No one writes that anymore … All in all, he really had _no idea_. He had always wanted to write but now that he had the time … _fundamental purpose escaped him_.

“A thousand? And how many boxes did you unpack? Quite a few it seems … Far more than _ten_.” She chimed behind him. “That’s quite an accomplishment.” He easily detected the hint of flirtation dancing in her voice. After twelve years of marriage, he could read her easily and he already _knew_ what her intent would be tonight. “It sounds as if you are in need of a reward.”

The toothbrush was already fully into his mouth and he stared, wide-eyed at his wife, through the mirror across the room behind him. She was smiling, closing her book slowly as she slipped it on to the nightstand and, for the first time, he glimpsed the lace across her olive skin, peaking up under the covers. He knew that lingerie, quite well actually. She knew it had been his favorite.

 _Had been … shit_. Is his favorite. _IS_.

He blushed, spitting quickly into the sink before locking eyes with her as he grabbed the mouthwash to give him a bit of extra time to think about his next words carefully. In all honesty, he should be excited yet? He should be … _enamoured_. She was lovely. She had _always_ been lovely. But there was also the problem of … He turned, facing her as he eyed the lace. “Is that the … the … _blue one_?”

“It is …” She raised her right eyebrow. “ _The blue one_.”

“I … I wish you had told me _earlier_ … I could have … _prepared_ …” His nervousness was clear. He wished he was intrigued. He wished _many_ things right now, but … He wanted to smile and approach her and _take her_ , as he should, as he was expected. As he had done so many times before? He had promised her many things before coming here and he didn’t wish to disappoint, but … _nothing stirred within him_ , even as he replayed the memories of that _blue lace_. He could try. He _should_ try. He owed her that much. They had tried before … _before his … indiscretion with The Woman_.

 _The Woman. That Woman …_ He attempted to recall her as he stared at his wife, and his mind fought with the memory of the _woman_ who had come between them. He couldn’t remember much right now, but just the simple fact that she had been Ana’s near opposite, stirring something seemingly _lost_ within him, and that she had nearly destroyed _his family_. Though his memory was failing him, likely due to the overabundance of wine, his emotions did not waiver and he _felt_ everything, still so fresh and painful and. As he stared back into his wife’s **hopeful** eyes, he was overwhelmed with shame.

_Focus, Alex. Be here. Be now … with her._

“Come here …” She beckoned and he breathed deeply. Feeling like a child again, he obeyed. Sheepish and terrified, he climbed across the bed and surrendered into her welcoming arms. “What would you like from me?” Her voice was melodic and soothing, as she purred into him, pushing her _overly_ thick lips against his. Accepting the advance he returned her embrace, but he found her lips strange. Where they should have been soft and welcoming, he found them hard and swollen.

_Focus Alex. Focus._

She was beautiful. She was ready. She was willing. _Focus_. He pushed himself to remain calm and he returned the kiss further, accepting her tongue into his mouth, refusing to pull away from her overly plumpness. The sheets were away and her hands were on his, guiding his fingers up and over the skimpy blue lace thing as she enticed him to touch her delicate curves. Over her thighs first, he found them barely thicker than his own biceps, then up and over her hips. He pinched his eyes shut, pushing his tongue back against hers as he wished to distract himself from the protruding hip bone over which she guided his touch.

_Dear lord … perhaps he should order pizza more often …_

It was impossible for him to conceal his body’s growing tension and she pulled away, seconds before she would have moved his hands over her swollen little breasts, whose own unnatural firmness easily surpassed that of her lips. His unease was clear.

“Here …” She was quite accommodating. “Do you want _me_ to touch _you_ instead?” Her hand was trailing over his knee, then his thigh, gliding over the cotton pajama pants as she made her way towards her ultimate goal: the large bulge nestled between the center of his legs. Her eyes never left his as she explored his body slowly, smiling the entire time.

“Yes.” He succumbed. “I think … _It would be better_.” Her fingers danced over his large but flaccid member, tempting it, prodding at it gently, tugging and rolling over its shape. He tried to return the _dance_ by finally gripping her breasts with both of his hands and plunging his mouth onto hers. The action was far less graceful than he hoped and she grunted at its clumsiness. But she obviously appreciated the attempt and her noises turned into groans, moving to grind against him and his body, but her hungry touches invoke _nothing_ from his frame and his stress began to mount.

_Not again. Oh no. Focus, Alex. Focus. She’s lovely … she’s …_

Her breasts were a simple handful and her nipples were hardened to his pulsing fondles. He tried to titillate their peaks awkwardly, but unsure if she was enjoying this pinching, he resolved to focus on her lips, hoping to keep her mouth busy lest she try to slide down and take him into her strange lips. He wasn’t much enjoying her tongue inside of him and his kisses turned into long pecks as he closed his mouth off and began to pull back from their strangeness. Beginning to grasp for small breaths, he hadn’t realized yet that he was _panting_ and his heart was beginning to race, almost uncontrollably.

_Good lord. Focus._

His heart beat so hard; it was actually palpitating and he closed his eyes, trying to exact absolute control over his shuddering body. _Oh good lord._ What was wrong with him? What was … He tried to _focus_ on everything at once and when the stress was too much, he found himself unable to focus on any _one thing_ at all. Everything swayed and blurred, danced and thundered. His hands began to tremble and his kisses were fully interrupted by gasps of breath. She was touching him, or at least he thought she was, but his body was _still_ numb to everything.

 _Breathe. Focus. Breathe_. He urged himself. _Breathe_. He couldn’t though and suddenly there was a knocking … a tapping … as of someone gently rapping … rapping at …

Her fingers were at his pant hem, curling over them as she began to burrow down into … he pulled back suddenly, full of absolute dread. He wasn’t ready. His body wasn’t _cooperating. Oh god … not again_. Everything swayed and danced and he pushed his wife away as he reeled back in the bed, full of shame and burgeoning panic. His shortness of breath taking its toll on his frame of mind as he buried his face into his hands.

Had _this_ ever happened before? Not the _uncooperativeness_ , but … this **_reaction_** to it. He knew exactly what it was and he was shocked. No, it hadn’t. He was having a goddamn _panic attack_.

“Are you alright?” Her hand was on his back as she came forward.

“Yes …” He stood, pulling away from her again. “Yes … I’m fine. I just … just give me a minute.” The pounding of his heart was agonizingly loud and he took several steps before he realized it was _not_ his heart at all. Well, not entirely. His heart _was_ beating, but in absolutely perfect unison to the _knocking_ , which was coming from the _north wall_.

Tapping. Rapping. Knocking. Ticking … _tocking_ … Thundering in perfect unison with his stressed and panicked pulse.

“What in the world _is_ that?” He tilted his head to the sound, stepping closer to the wall. “Good lord … _is that …_ **_hammering_**?!” It sounded like … _hammering_. She … _2719_ … _was_ **_hammering_**?! Glancing back towards the clock on the nightstand, he verified it was indeed ten minutes until midnight and his nostril flared up in annoyed confusion as he approached the wall.

“Sounds like it. Maybe it will stop?” She sighed. “Maybe–”

“ **HEY! THIN WALLS, REMEMBER?**!” He bellowed as he slapped the wall with great force, sending a loud knock through it thickness, quite similar to what _she … 2719_ … had done earlier, and the hammering stopped all at once. He stood still and quiet, his palm still resting against the wall as he leaned his ear closer to try and detect _any further sound_.

“It’s alright …” Ana said. “Come back to bed. It’s late.”

“It’s bloody _not_ alright … it’s nearly _midnight_.” He snapped at his wife. He definitely wasn’t angry at her, nor did he really think he was angry at the person on the other side of the wall. Clearly projecting the disappointment in himself, he waited for _any sound_ , his hand still resting against the drywall and his heart began to normalize. He wasn’t angry. If anything, he was relieved. This had given him the distraction he needed to …

“Please come back to bed.” She was full of defeat and she rolled over to her own side, pulling the covers over herself, no longer interested in pursuing further action with him. “I need to get up early. I’ll be taking _Sarah_ to school tomorrow myself.”

“I …” He had to force his hand away from the wall and he turned, feeling shame on _multiple_ levels now. “I can do that. I should have done it to–”

“No.” She rolled over, no longer facing him as she spoke. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

 _Oh Hell._ He had messed on multiple levels today, hadn’t he? Sheepishly making his way back to the bed, he clawed within it, turning to the back of his wife’s head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He knew that tone. It really wasn’t fine. “I want to meet her administrators anyways.”

“No, I’m sorry about … I … you know I’ve had … _issues_ with–” He gulped, laying back and stared up at the ceiling blankly. “We can try again tomorrow? If you let me know ahead of time, an hour at least, I can …” His voice trailed off as he didn’t wish to mention that dreadful medication. If its requirement was _this_ much of a turn-off for _him_ , he could only imagine what it’s mention did to her. “ _Prepare_.”

“G’night.”

This was not the response he was hoping for, but he accepted it without further conversation and switched the light off.

 

* * *

 

[Reunion - The xx](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Fartist%2F3iOvXCl6edW5Um0fXEBRXy&t=NzZjOTBmOTA4ZWRkNzI1ZmVmOWFiNWE2ZGY2YzlhM2YxZjQ0OWNjYixFb01QWnVucg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171907838098%2F122-damnation&m=1)

> _We visit a life we both left behind_
> 
> _We know the heart_
> 
> _Move to the ever-moving_
> 
> _Or, blazin’, we go over_
> 
> _And over and over and over again_
> 
> _If I wait too long, I lose you from my sight_
> 
> _Maybe tonight_
> 
> _I could stop dreaming_
> 
> _And start believing in forever_
> 
> _And ever and ever and ever again_

“Hold the elevator please!”

The rushed feminine voice called out just as the elevator was beginning to close on the lobby level. Thrusting his hand out, he halted their ensuing closure and waited, listening as the hurried pitter patter of her footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Tapping, rapping, _dancing_ across the tiled floor towards him. Once she was within sight, she halted, her green eyes growing wide as she realized it was _him_. The hesitation was both _painful_ and _entertaining_ to watch. He couldn’t decipher if it was _disappointment_ or _embarrassment_ , but it was obvious her _flight_ or _fight_ instinct was in full conflict.

“Well?” He grinned. “Coming?” Flicking his head back towards the lift’s interior, his smile deepened. “Or have you changed your mind?”

“Oh …” She blinked and entered, taking a deep step to the right as she turned her side to him. “ _Sorry_.”

“ ** _No apologies_** _necessary_.” The doors shut and both stood still, side by side, for just a moment before he felt compelled to speak again, enticing her into a bit of small talk as the slow machine began its ambling path upward. “In case you were wondering … _That’s how one does it._ ”

“What?” She bit on his bait and he fought the grin, pursing his lips today as he struggled to sound entirely serious. “How you do _what_?”

“How you hold a lift for someone …” He glanced down, raising an eyebrow to her. “It’s quite easy. You just …” He put his hand out, miming the action of stopping the door as he looked down at her. “Put your hand out and **_stop_** the door.”

“ _Hmmm_.” She angled her face up towards him momentarily, but then glanced back down, shifting the small bag in her hands. “ _Gee thanks_. I’ll _try_ to remember that for next time.”

“No problem. Glad to be of help.” He beamed, turning his body towards her as he shifted the grocery bag from his right hand to his left and thrusting the palm out to her. “I’m Alex. I believe we are neighbours?”

“Hi … _Alex_.” He thought she might ignore his gesture and she stared at his hand for a good number of seconds before she shifted her own bag into her other hand and shook his. “ ** _2719_**.”

Accepting her grip, he shook gently, finding her touch _warm_ and soft. He was entirely unable to hold back the British snort that escaped him next, as he half-joked, half-complained about her introduction. “Just _2719_? You haven’t an actual name?”

“Maybe … But what’s in a _name_ anyways?” She grinned devilishly, as the shake lingered a bit too long. “Besides … _it’s a_ **_prime_**.” Once the last word left her mouth, he pulled his hand back sharply. It was mostly out of shock, but perhaps the action was a bit too quick and both of their smiles faded as they turned away from each other, staring at their own reflections in the polished metal of the closed door as the elevator barely meandered passed the third floor.

 **2719** _. A bloody prime …_ Why had he said that yesterday when asked? Why did she say it now? He gulped.

“Good grief, this is …” He shifted uncomfortably, reaching out to push the ‘27’ button several more times. “Painfully _slow_ , isn’t it?”

“Yuuuuup.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“Weeks now …”

“Why aren’t the other lifts being fixed?”

“Talk to _2700_. She’s the building ‘ ** _supervisor_** ’.” She quoted the word in the air with her fingers. Obviously some hidden meaning lingering behind it.

“2700? You mean _Cora_?” He looked back down, towards her. “That … _dreadful older woman_?” _Oh dear_. It had escaped his mouth before he even had time to consider the politeness of his words, and his hand flew to his mouth, shocked by his own honesty.

2719 was already snickering though and he found himself unable to keep his own smile at bay any longer. That was rude though and he should _really_ be more polite with neighbours. “Pardon me, I shouldn’t have … I didn’t mean–” What a terrible first impression to leave on someone!

“It’s ok. She’s a lazy ass though.” She took a step away from him and he thought perhaps it was because he was unintentionally crowding her. But as she leaned her back against the right wall, setting her bag down and folding her arms across her chest, she was actually becoming at ease with him, likely due to his unintended honesty. “And just between us … I think it’s on purpose. She just wants to _fuck_ with people.”

His nostrils flared a bit at her use of the curse word. Pushing aside his disgust over the use of language, he leaned against the opposite wall, so he could watch her just as she was watching him. The elevator squeaked passed the seventh floor slowly. “Is it not part of American culture to at least be _civil_ to your neighbours?”

“You mean like calling someone …” She lifted an eyebrow. “ _Dreadful_.”

“Hmmmm.” He nodded, showing his guilt. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“But seriously, some advice.” 2719 sighed. “Never wait for the elevator. Ever. If it’s not there when you wanna leave, take the stairs. Otherwise … _she’ll pounce on you_.” Her eyes grew wide with seriousness and she held her hands out as if they were claws, grabbing something in the thin air. “That’s how she gets me … _every single time_.”

“Hmmmm.” He accepted the advice fully. “That’s definitely how she …” He glanced up, locking eyes as he smirked. “ _Pounced_ on us yesterday morning. No thanks to you, I might add.”

“I’m really sorry about that, but I couldn’t chance it.” She apologized one more time for her actions and then made the pouncing motion again and before she pointed at his paper sack. “Phillip’s market?”

“Indeed.” _Indeed_? Who says _indeed_?! He shoved the thought from his mind. “I’ve been sent to the market to prepare for, what I’m assuming, will be a boring _dinner party_ tonight.” He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly disclosing this to her. It wasn’t polite to complain to complete strangers, yet he found himself trusting. No, not just that. He found himself … _at ease_.

“You’ve been **_sent_**?” She tilted her head at him. “You sound like a _servant_.” _Servant_? He would have been insulted, but the word actually fit into his frame of mind right now. “Not looking forward to it? Why not just cancel?”

“You’ve clearly never been _married_.” He retorted quickly. “Compromise is _tantamount_ to a successful relationship.”

“Actually, I have.” He didn’t meant the comment as an insult, but she clearly took it as such. Pushing herself off the back wall, she turned back towards the door, expressing her displeasure of his _assumption_. “ _But I guess I’m just more …_ ” Her sentence trailed off as she watched the number above the door count passed the fifteenth floor.

“ ** _Defiant_**.” He finished her sentence, and it was less of a question and much more of a statement of fact.

“ ** _Selfish_**.” She corrected sharply, glancing down at the ground. What was that? That movement. What did it signify? His impression was _shame_.

“I …” He hesitated. “ _I actually doubt that very much._ ” He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger and her age was clearly less than thirty. _Hmmm_. He nervously spun his own band on his finger as he considered what to say next. “I do apologize for any _assumption_ on my part.”

“Yeah well … **_No apologies_** _necessary, right?_ ” She looked up and that pleasant but mischievous little grin returned. “Besides, you know what they say about _assuming_ don’t you?”

Did she just imply him an _ass_? The smirk affirmed she had and he accepted her quip with glee. “Fair enough.” As the squeaking machine continued its path, uncomfortable silence befell the two. He should say something. In fact, he _wanted_ to say something, but nothing immediately sprang to mind … He had always been quite terrible at _small talk_.

“Well anyways …” She spoke first and he was grateful. “Don’t go to Phillip’s. You should go to Sun Street Market instead. Their selection is always better. More organic stuff. Cheaper.”

“Someone else recommended that one as well but, I didn’t want to take the tube there and have to truck a load of groceries back. This one’s just around the corner. It’s far more convenient.”

“K. Just a suggestion.” She shrugged. “But as far convenience, Sun Street lets you order online. _Free delivery_.”

“Really?” Actually, he would have _loved_ that. He had fumbled around the store for at least an hour. “That might not have been that bad then. I’m terrible at shopping. The less _human_ interaction the better …” Uh oh. Was that rude? “Present company excluded … _obvious_.”

“Obviously.” She retorted.

“But unfortunately, the _telecommunications_ company won’t be out still _next week_ to get us set up.”

“Their site works on mobile.” She shrugged just as the elevator dinged and they were now at their destination floor. “The interface is _trash_ , but at least it works.”

“Ahhhh.” He patted the phone in his pocket as he bent to grab the handle of his bag, following her out of the lift, walking side by side with her as they traversed the long and narrow hallway. “Unfortunately, I still have my European _mobile_. I can make _calls_ , but I haven’t a data service for it yet. Suppose I should look into that sooner rather than later. But I’ve never been one for needing the _internet_ though.” Good lord, he was talking a lot, wasn’t he? Perhaps being stuck at home alone all day was affecting him strangely …

He tried to slow a bit, to meander more, but they were in front of his door and he half expected her to just continue on without another word as he stopped, but he was pleasantly surprised as she turned, thrusting her hand out to him, palm up. “Lemme see it …”

“See what?” His mouth curled up curiously.

“Your … _mobile_.” She said the last word in an atrocious _English_ accent, attempting to mimic his own pronounciation of it. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved it. Squinting at her, he reluctantly unlocked it and handed it over. Several taps and swipes, he tried to peek over to see what she was typing in, but she pulled it back from his gaze and finished her task before offering it back. “There, you’re on my wifi now. Should tide you over until you get your _mobile_ switched over.”

“Really?” He beamed. “Thank you!”

“But …” She pointed at him. “Don’t go downloading a bunch of torrents or porn or anything. I’ll be watching _your traffic_.”

It was clearly an empty threat but he found himself smiling at it nonetheless. “No worries. No tore rants or _porn_. I promise.” He wasn’t going to watch porn, and honestly, he had no clue what the hell a _tore rant_ was anyways. “You’re quite tech savvy, aren’t you?”

She was already turning, continuing her journey to her own door. “It’s just wifi, dude. It’s not rocket science … or “ She chuckled lowly to herself. “ _Geolocation_. But …” She was at her door, unlocking it when she turned back to him. “Yeah … I am pretty _savvy_ actually.”

He hadn’t moved yet and she was already opening her door when he realized he was staring. In fact, he hadn’t even gotten his own bloody keys out yet. As he did and then fumbled them into the finicky lock, he called out before she could close her own door. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.” She paused, inches before the door was shut between them. “Best of luck at your _boring dinner party_. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think …”

“Well … Try not to _hammer_ anything tonight, yeah?”

“Whatever …” She retorted. “You weren’t even asleep yet.”

 _Wait_. His eyes flashed large as the implication of her _hearing_ them last night … _Oh no_. “Wait … _how thin_ **_are_** _the walls?_ ”

His concern was obvious and she smirked as she answered his question by shutting the door and locking it loudly.

 

* * *

 

She was late coming home. They were all still struggling with the proper rush hour times and how it might affect travel in the New York City tubes, but she wiped her hands on her apron after sliding the finished pre-cooked cakes into the oven.

“Good. Done. I’m going to–” She was untying the strap from around her neck, about to disclose she needed to freshen up a bit when the doorbell rang. “ _Damn_.”

Sarah stood up and they assumed she would answer the door, but instead she headed towards the hallway and, ultimately, her bedroom.

“Young lady!” Ana called out, but the teenager responded with slamming her door. “Great. That’s just _great_.”

“It’s fine. Given her attitude, it’s likely better that she just stays in her room tonight anyways.” Alex was moving towards the door and Ana moved to intercept him, both reaching for the handle at the same time.

As the door swung open, she greeted the two people with the biggest smile she could muster, throwing her arms around the tall and muscular man. “Ron! It’s been ages!!! How are you?!”

“Anastasia!” Ron smiled, pulling back from the familial embrace to offer an overly firm handshake to her tall, blonde husband. “Alex. Looking well, as always.” While her husband accepted the shake, he hadn’t torn his eyes from the young woman standing to her cousin’s right side. “Oh!” Ron spun. “This is–”

“ ** _2719_**.” Alex cut him off, shaking his head at the dark haired woman as he raised his eyebrow and the woman grinned innocently.

“Oh … _you’ve_ already met?” Ron asked the question, but it was clearly not directed at _either_ one of them in particular but rather to provide an answer, she shoved a bottle of wine towards Alex, jamming it against his chest.

“Uh, here … _I hope you like_ **_red_**?”


	107. Art - Tarot

 

##  _**Mr. Quinlan** as **The King of Swords**_

**Minor Arcana Tarot Card** : [The King of Swords:](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FKing_of_Swords&t=OWE4ZGQ0OTdiYTM5M2M1MjZiMWQzZDZlYjRmMTM5MWM5ZGVjNjNhMyxDd3dPS1Zobw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171940833368%2F5thinvictus-mr-quinlan-as-the-king-of-swords&m=1)  

> _The king of swords card from the minor arcana is often used to depict a **mature man** with **sound intellectual understanding and reasoning**. This card depicts a man who is **strong-hearted, decisive,** and **intellectually oriented**._
> 
> _The king of swords can also depict a man who is **ruthless** or **excessively judgmental** ; the querent is therefore advised to balance his **intellectual orientation** with **emotional understanding**._

 

* * *

 

##  _**Dawn** as **The Knight of Wands**_

**Minor Arcana Tarot Card** : [The Knight of Wands:](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FKnight_of_Wands&t=MzkzZDUyY2Q4YzNlMmFiMmZiOTY0YzZhMjBmYmIxYWE1OGQwYTdlMCxvVFFHR2tqdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F171933395018%2Fdawn-as-the-knight-of-wands-minor-arcana-tarot&m=1)  

> _As the questing knight, this minor arcana Tarot card traditionally signifies travel, and progress, but also to new ideas and inventions. Looking forward, intelligent and knowledgeable, yet ready for battle and full of fire._

 

**_Beautiful commissions by the incredibly talented[@orsanedraws](https://tmblr.co/m9hwluk5SFFUhWqHGtTSFlg)_ **


	108. 12.3 - Damnation

“No, no, no, it’s not that.” Alex argued, leaning back in the dining chair as he took a decent swig of red wine. He might have cringed at the tartness of the repugnant liquid, but he was distracted by the conversation at hand. “I just find that argument rubbish, is all I meant.”

“ _My_ statement? _Rubbish_?” Ron scoffed, as the semi-aggressive, post-dinner banter continued between the men. “ _Only_ because you know I’m right.”

“Right? Hardly.” Alex’s upper lip curled in annoyance. “I just think the country should be allowed to come to terms with its _own_ government.”

“And how many people will suffer from that?” Ron bit back. “But, by all means, let’s hear _your_ opinion. Not that someone like _you_ would care.”

“Someone like _me_?” His voice cracked and he leaned back forward and squinted at the man who sat diagonal from him.

“Boys.” Ana could read the octave of her husband’s voice and understood his patience was waning. “How in the world did we get on the topic of politics?”

“Yes. _Like you_. You’ve never seen war. You’ve never experienced _true violence_. The fall of a civilized nation.” Ron shrugged, as he ignored his cousin’s plea for diffusal. “Sitting in the safe comfort of your posh, safe flat.”

Alex was quite offended by the statements, but he couldn’t refute them, however _wrong_ they felt. “Maybe so, but I would say my opinion is far less _biased_ than yours.” He forced a fake laugh out. “Someone like _you_ , who would stand to _directly_ benefit from being _sent_ into said country to _alleviate_ the _suffering_.”

“Well …” As Ron reached for the bottle of red and topped off his wine. “I’ve met these people face to face. Perhaps my _bias_ is rooted more in compassion than _money_ , as you are likely assuming. And what is it you do again? _Edit books_ , was it?”

“Huh.” Alex leaned back, patting his full belly with his hand as he glared at the confrontational man. “Sorry to tell you, but that’s _not an argument_. And sadly, neither is _compassion_. You’ve said nothing logical to backup your stance at all.”

The ever-so-quiet female guest reached across the table, toward the desert plate where the last remaining three of the mini-cakes now rested. She had already eaten more of them than anyone else and as she nearly grabbed her fifth of the night, Ron diverted his attention to her sly movement. “Having _another_? Shouldn’t you leave **_some_** for Sarah?” Alex found the statement distasteful and he glowered at the man. How rude …

“Oh … Ok. Yeah.” Unnecessary guilt fell upon 2719’s face. “Sorry.”

“Oh no.” Ana assured her as she began to retreat from the plate, without taking anything from it. “No, no. Please. Have as many as you’d like. I insist. I made them for you all.”

“Well, you said not to let you _eat_ too much.” Ron came to his own defense and 2719 pulled her hands out of site entirely as she hid them under the table.

“Yeah. I did. Sorry.” She smiled, but it was obvious this was more out of embarrassment than compliance and Alex spoke again, purposefully easing and distracting from the awkward situation.

“What do you think?” He directed the question to her as she had been entirely silent since the topic shifted to politics. Actually, she had been incredibly quiet _all_ night.

“Me?” She caught his eye for just a moment before looking away. She had done so all night. “Oh no. That’s ok.” She reached for the wine bottle now and poured herself another full glass. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Alex poked. “What doesn’t matter?”

“My opinion.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it?” He pushed. “I’d like to hear your opinion. I’d like to hear it.”

“No, you just wanna know if I agree with you so I can side with you, and I’d rather not say, one way or the other, because it doesn’t matter. None of this does …” She attempted to wave her hands around, forgetting she had a full wine glass in one and the liquid sloshed about violently.

“I completely agree with that statement.” Ana tipped her glass towards the woman, appreciating her statement. “And that’s the problem with discussing _politics_. No one actually listens to anyone else. Everyone just _barks_ at each other.”

“Bah.” Alex shook his head, refusing to accept any of it. “Without discussion, without conflict and debate, then we can’t grow as a people. It’s how _good ideas_ are allowed to rise above the bad. And I’m _genuinely_ curious what your stance is. I don’t think anyone here will hold _judgement_ against stating it.”

“Of course they will. Depending on what I say, I’ll be _right_ or I’ll be _wrong_. And let’s face it, everyone _thinks_ they’re right. In fact, everyone _knows_ they’re absolutely right, when in reality, _no one ever is_. We all see the world from our own tiny little existences and experiences; from our own minute little bubbles and we’ve _all_ lost the ability to see things from anyone else’s point of view.”

“See.” Ron pounced on the statement. “Told you. _Compassion_.”

“No, no.” Alex refused still. “But you’ve missed the entire purpose of healthy debate.“

“Ok.” She sipped and spun her glass, glancing up at him only for an instant before she looked back down. She didn’t seem to much like looking at him. “So what’s the purpose then?”

“The point definitely isn’t to tell you that you are _wrong_. Quite the opposite in fact.” She glanced up and down again. Drank again and then drank again as he spoke. “I’m allowing you the opportunity to _convince me_ that I am wrong. To _help me_ understand why I’m wrong … ”

“Again, why does it matter? I mean, do you _really_ wanna to be convinced or are you just looking to convince someone else?”

“But therein lies the ultimate point of it.” He smiled. “That’s the _game_ of it. It can go either way.”

“Exactly. _Exactly_. It’s just a _game_. An _infinite game_. Round and round and _round_ we go, until someone pukes.” She was reaching for the bottle again. “ _I’m tired of it_.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough?” Ron laughed as he playfully pushed the bottle towards the middle of the table, out of her reach and she pouted, staring into the emptiness of her glass with disdain. “Maybe save a little for our hosts?”

“Oh!” She raised an eyebrow towards her _date_. “I can go get another bottle. I have _five_ more.”

“Well, that’s a sad point of view.” Ana sighed. “You can think about _everything_ as a game with that mentality … even _life_ itself.”

“Life?” 2719 snorted loudly. The laugh was short and awkwardly placed, which made him nearly chuckle himself. “But you’re right. Everything’s a game, so I just wanna enjoy what I can, while I can.”

Taking the near-empty bottle, Alex leaned forward and tipped it over, emptying its contents into her glass as he grinned. He wasn’t sure if he did it to push her to speak more, or to annoy Ron, but the smile with which he was rewarded was payment enough and she looked at him for fraction longer this time. “Well, I find _life_ quite boring without _adversity_. How can one grow unless they are exposed to new things and other perspectives … constantly? How can one evolve without challenge? Debate is healthy. Well, _healthy_ debate is _healthy_.”

“Yeah, but argumentation is more a game of _domination_ than _debate_ , and I’m just not interested in dominating or _being_ dominated … _not anymore_. _I just want to …_ ” She swirled her glass, staring at the liquid treasure within as her sentence trailed off.

“And yet …” Ana vocally noted her husband’s cleverness, as she smirked and touched his arm. “You seem to be _enjoying_ debating him on … _debating_.”

2719 locked eyes with Alex as the revelation hit her fully and her eyebrows pinched together as she glared at him and he beamed. “What? What did I do?” He couldn’t feign much innocence on this one. “So, _I like conversation_. Is that a bad thing?” As the glare continued, he leaned back and bit his lip, enjoying her prolonged stare, even if it _was_ rooted in annoyance.

“Good to see you haven’t changed at all.” Ron shook his head, chuckling lowly.

“No, and I don’t imagine I ever will.”

“Well, let’s hope not. I like him just how he is.” Ana snuck in a compliment as she gripped his thigh firmly and distracted his attention from their all-too-quiet guest, breaking their stare. “Anyways, how long have you two been dating?”

“Oh, dating?” Another snort escaped 2719’s mouth as she laughed off the accusation. “Oh no. No. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah.” This _laughable_ confession caused Ron’s eyebrows to furrow. It was clear he had no intentions of keeping their relationship just friendly. “Just wanted to introduce you two, as neighbors you know. She was how I stumbled across the vacancy.”

“And we appreciate that.” Alex said. “The location and building are _lovely_. I would say _perfect_ in fact.”

“So, why not dating then?” His wife picked at them. She had always fancied herself a matchmaker, and regardless of how uncomfortable the situation seemed to make them both, she pushed ahead.

“He’s my _teacher_.” The sentence was delivered curtly and with conviction. “Well … _sensei_. There’s a line you don’t cross there. _Respect_ , you know.”

“Sensei?” Alex sprung the next question immediately. “That’s how you met then?”

“Yes. She’s an excellent student, though I still suspect, regardless of how much she denies it, she’s had a bit of training before.” Ron replied.

“Nope. _Never_.” She chirped, her tone thick with deception. “I’m just a natural.”

“You know …” Ron pointed a finger at Alex as he polished off his glass. “You should swing by the dojo. It’s just two stops away. Take a class or two … We’ve got a beginners class on Monday and Wednesday nights that’d be right up your alley.”

“Beginner’s class?” Alex balked at the invitation. “ _Please_. You couldn’t even go two rounds with me, if you recall?”

“Psh, this isn’t _boxing_ at Uni.” Ron laughed at Alex’s obvious peacocking. “It’s Mixed Martial Arts. Don’t worry, I’d say half the class is over 18, you’d fit right–” Buzzing erupted from his pocket and as he fished the phone out, looking at the caller, he apologized to his companions as he stood. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ve really gotta take this. Should just be a minute.”

As Ron stepped away, sneaking off into the privacy of the hallway, Ana stood and grabbed the plate of remaining cakes. “I should put these away before they go stale.”

Reaching out, he snatched one of the cakes from the plate and gave his wife a half smile as she turned. He had always actually detested the little sweet things, but he would take that confession to his grave, as it was one of the _many_ things Ana prided herself on. But it was no bother because he had not taken it for himself at all and when she was disappeared back into the kitchen, he leaned forward, grinning like a fool as he quickly offering the mini-cake to 2719.

**[Breathe - Fleurie](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4lgavUrn8yLNPXg0c6f6Mm&t=OWEyNzkyODZiODRlYzc3YWJiNmEyYWU2OGQwMzExNTZjZDI3ZWZjZSxXZ2huZERiVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172172663493%2Fchapter-123-damnation&m=1) **

> _I hear the sound, echoes beneath_
> 
> _Angels and skylines meet_
> 
> _And I’m straining to reach_
> 
> _The light on the surface, light on the other side_
> 
> _I feel the pages turning_
> 
> _I see the candle burning down_
> 
> _Before my eyes, before my wild eyes_
> 
> _I feel you holding me, tighter I cannot see_
> 
> _When will we finally_
> 
> _Breathe, breathe, breathe_

She was not expecting this gesture and her marvelous eyes grew wide as she beamed and reached to accept it. Her finger and thumb pinched the little paper wrapper, and brushed against his finger as it did so. This was the first time they had touched and he felt himself nearly twitch from it. What a strange reaction, but he repressed it fully while not releasing his grip on the treat. He spoke with a devilish smile. “For a _price_ …”

“What … “ She squinted at him. “… _price_?”

“A simple price.” He couldn’t stop smiling and he was certain his mouth would be sore tomorrow from it. “I ask for just a _single word_.”

“What … _word_?”

“A name.”

“Any name? Or did you have one in mind?” He didn’t accept the jest and he began to pull the treat back and she stared at the cake, looking as if she might refuse his trade, but instead she conceded. “Elaine.”

“Elaine?” He released it, but spoke with utter _disappointment_. He was so very bad at hiding his emotions right now.

“Don’t like it, huh?” She could read his tone like a book and she prodded his disapproval as she unwrapped the prize from its paper. “Too _old_ for you?”

“Sorry. No. No.” He tried to cover up, to lie, but it was already too late. She had seen his face. She had seen his smile melt away instantly. “It’s … a lovely name. It really is. I’m sorry. It’s just …”

“Uh, yeah. Ok. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself there.” She snorted slightly at his fumbled apology.

“Is that _really_ your name?” Dear lord, where did that question come from? That was rude. Was he being rude? Was he being too pushy? Something wasn’t right about it and it scratched at the inside of him.

“You think I’m lying?” _Yes_. It wasn’t right. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Ron.” This sentence seemed to amuse her and she grinned at it, implying just a hint of _dishonesty_ in it. “Sorry you don’t like it, but … I didn’t get to pick it.”

“It’s a _lovely_ name.” He should just drop the subject, but it scratched at him further. “It’s just not what I expected.”

“Oh? What did you expect?” She asked as she plunged the cake into her mouth in one large bite and crumpled the paper, wadding it into a tiny ball in her hand. She chewed and spoke with a full mouth. “Too _plain_ for you?”

“No. It’s not too plain.” _Not in the slightest_. “It’s actually quite … _sad_.”

“Sad?” She almost laughed at the word, but he could read her like a book and she was full of vast dishonesty tonight and some part of his mind wondered if even _she_ knew it.

“ _Never_ something I would have named a daughter.”

“Why not?” She finished chewing. “It’s _Scottish_ for Helen and Helen means lovely. In fact, Helen means–”

“Helen means **_beauty_**.” He finished her sentence. He knew full well, but that wasn’t what he was talking about. Her name was _not_ Helen. “But _Elaine_. Elaine always brings to mind [Astolat](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FElaine_of_Astolat&t=ZjQ1OTFiMTFjMTkwZDY3MzYzZjQ0N2NhYmM0NjhhYjhkYWMyODM2YyxXZ2huZERiVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172172663493%2Fchapter-123-damnation&m=1).”

“O.K. …” She glanced at him, spinning her glass, jostling the liquid that remained. “Doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” She hummed the word as she stared at her wine, repeating with a grandiose tone. “ _Astolat_.”

“Oh I assure you, her’s was not a story quite so … _merry_.” What was he doing? Was he trying to impress her with his knowledge of things? What was the purpose of this? Whatever it was, whatever scratched at his mind, told him it was _important_ and his voice became overly serious as he continued. “Elaine of Astolat died from _heartbreak_ , from the pain of unrequited love for–”

“Unrequited love for the greatest of _all_ swordsmen.” She laughed once, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, or a merry laugh, or even a mocking laugh. It was a laugh full of sorrow, and clearly not intended for _him_ , or he didn’t assume. She was speaking more to herself than anyone else in this moment. “ ** _Of bold Sir Lancelot_**.”

“Yes.”

She looked looked up, tapping her glass as she spoke. Her voice was steady, soft, and full of confidence.

_“It was the closing of the day:_

_She loos’d the chain, and down she lay;_

_The broad stream bore her far away,_

_The Lady of Shalott.”_

_"Yes …” Oh god._

The verse was perfect and absolutely unexpected. Every syllable. Every inflection. Exactly how he remembered it, at least, and he found himself incapable of response. She already knew exactly what he was referring to and she let him know in the most lovely way possible. “ ** _Tennyson_**.” It was a whisper as much as it was a gasp.

 _Oh …_ **_gods_**.

“Assumptions, _Mr. Quin_.” Her face as serious as he had ever seen it. She already knew what he was implying from the beginning and he could read that fact in the minute moisture that pooled in the corner of her eyes. If he had not been swimming in their color, he would have missed the glistening hint of her fleeting tears. “Assumptions.”

“Indeed.” He said as his wife sat.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but my name _is_ Elaine.” She locked eyes with him. “And I have more in common with that Lady than you might _assume_.”

“Uh oh. What did I miss?” His wife was back in the room, bringing with her an unopened bottle of red. The tension was obvious. “Oh good lord. What on Earth did my husband say _now_?”

 

* * *

 

**[Carry Me - Eurielle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6gFptCcOkPwC6p92l2WBOc&t=NGYwZjFhZTE4ODNkZmE5NTRjNjUxNGIyMDgzZjFjNTY3MjQ2YmFhYixXZ2huZERiVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172172663493%2Fchapter-123-damnation&m=1) **

> _While you sleep, dream of me_
> 
> _I’ll be keeping our memories_
> 
> _Living in my heart and soul_
> 
> _Waiting for the day_
> 
> _When we will be together again_

“Well, _that_ was fun.” Ana’s sarcasm was thick. “I don’t know why you and Ron have such a hard time getting along. You used to be good friends.”

“What?” He watched her glide across the bedroom. Tonight, he had been the first to get in bed and he pulled his reading glasses off, partly to see his distant wife with clarity, and partly because he was certain they were just giving him a headache. He was certain the over abundance of wine didn’t help. He laid the open book down on his chest. “We get along fine.”

“You argue endlessly.” She pulled her dangling earrings off as she disappeared into the inner closet.

“Psh. We’ve been that way since _Uni_. It’s fine. Nothing’s ever personal.”

“Yeah right.” She emerged in her most comfortable nightgown and he was somewhat relieved. He wasn’t sure if she might walk out with something frumpy and lacey and … expect things from him. “One of these days, I feel you two are gonna have a go at each other.”

“Psh. Won’t happen. It’s all in good fun.” It was time for bed and he shut his book, moving to put it on the nightstand.

“What is that?” Her curiosity peaked as she crawled within the sheets. “What are you reading?”

“Just an old book.” But he knew that wouldn’t deter her and she leaned closer, trying to decipher the letters on the spine. “ _Tennyson_.”

“Tennyson? _Poetry_?” She giggled at him. “Why are you reading poetry before bed?”

“Stop. No reason.” A kiss was shared and he rolled over, considering whether he should take a sleep aid. His mind was a torrent of thoughts and he _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to sleep well. “Good night.”

“ _2719_ was nice, wasn’t she?” He nearly chuckled that she was still using the number. When the introductions had occurred, it had become almost a joke that she was a number and Ron had skipped over correcting it just to annoy them.

“Elaine.” He corrected her. “Her name is Elaine.”

“Elaine.” Ana accepted it as she clicked the lamp off and darkness flooded over the room. “I liked her. She was kinda weird, but _very smart and very beautiful_.”

“Was she?” He supposed so, but there was honestly something about her appearance that scratched at him. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine her face again, but nothing was certain in his memory, except for the greenness of her eyes and the tone of her voice. Damn that wine.

“Yes, she is. Don’t play coy with me, young man. She’s right up your alley, _Mr. Quin_.”

“Is she?” Was he playing coy? He wasn’t sure anymore. He guessed he had a _playful_ nature, didn’t he?

Ana laughed once in the darkness and the vibration of it sent a chill down his spine. In that one laugh, all of the beautiful, melodic tones of her voice were masked by the shrill nature of the chuckle. “You know she is. In fact, we could very well _be sisters_.”

“Oh …” His eyes were closed and he actually felt quite tired all at once. Melting into the softness of the mattress, he felt himself beginning to float and doze. There would be no need for any medication to help him sleep after all. He welcomed sleep. He wished to dream.

“She’ll be good for him. _She’s beautiful._ ” That word again. They knew very little about her. _Weird_. Well to do. Intelligent. Intriguing. Lost. Sad. Damaged, but beautiful. _Beautiful_. **_Beautiful_**. For his wife, this seemed to be the most important trait. There were others. Far more important … ones that wouldn’t faded over time. Ones that … “He needs to settle down. Have a family. She seems to _calm_ him.”

 _Calm_ …

“They aren’t dating.” He responded in the darkness, clutching his pillow as he thought of the Ron of the past. Her cousin had _never_ had difficulty with _the ladies_. He had enjoyed his youth to its _very_ fullest.

“They will be.” Ana was certain. “You can see it. _The tension_. They _will_ be. Sooner, rather than later. I bet you. Just wait. I know these things.”

“ _They are just … friends._ ” She might have said something else, but he didn’t care. His conscious mind melted into the unconscious and he embraced it. This conversation stressed him and he just wanted to _dream_ … he just wanted to _dream_ … to go somewhere. He was in search of something but nothing fully began. He wasn’t asleep quite yet, but he knew that wasn’t entirely accurate.

 _He was desperate to dream_ …

##  **_Desperatis somnia …_ **

But wait, wasn’t he _already_ dreaming? Wasn’t he _already_ asleep? He remembered falling asleep, but this wasn’t right. It was just blackness. It was …

Was he trying to sleep again. Was this a dream within a dream …

##  **_Hoc erat in somnium somnium._ **

Her alarm sounded loudly and his eyes flew open, the brightness of the room causing him to wince as he pulled the covers over his face.

 _Good_ **_gods_**. Was it morning already? He could have sworn he had _just_ closed his eyes. He had _barely_ blinked! The bed shift as she stood and began her morning routine.

“Up and at ‘em!” She sang out as she made her way to the bathroom. “Five boxes today! At least! Five boxes and a thousand words!”

 _Fine_.

He was up, throwing the covers away as he sat and put his head into his hands to ease his raging morning-after-wine headache. Had he felt _that_ bad from the alcohol that he hadn’t even really _rested_? No, he was actually fully rested. Cracking his neck from side to side, he realized he didn’t feel tired at all and as he came to his feet, even the fogginess in his mind began to fade.

“You alright?” She asked as she floated by, already completely dressed and ready to go. But … hadn’t she _just_ gone into the bathroom? Good gods, his head swam again. She spun to look at him on her way to the kitchen, commenting on the concern smeared across his face. “Have a bad dream?”

“No. Not at all.” He shook his head. “I don’t think that I dreamed at all, in fact.”

“Too old for that much wine, huh? Well … get up.” She chuckled. “And for god’s sake … _please shave today_?”

 

* * *

 

He was alone in the apartment … _again_. No longer trusted to help the teenager to school in the mornings, he was relegated to unpacking and shopping. As he retrieved the mug from under the single-serve machine, he tilted it to his mouth before cringing and pulling back as the overly acidic odor pierced his senses like a scalpel.

Good gods, this liquid is repugnant. He turned to the fridge and swung it open before he remembered they were _still_ out of cream. Of all the things to forget at the market yesterday, _why_ did it have to be this important thing?

He wished he didn’t require the liquid, but his body was seemingly dependant on it and he tilted the mug, attempting to drink it black again, but the aroma stung him deeply.

“ _Fuck_.” The curse had escaped him before he could stop and he shook his head in disappointment of _himself_. Cursing was so unlike him and he chastised himself for it. “Language, Alex. Language.”

Perhaps he could just get dressed and head to the coffee shop on the corner for his morning pick me up, but the thought of _getting ready_ and the thought of _shaving_ without the caffeine made him sigh and a thought struck him as he grinned.

 _Perhaps someone closer than the cafe might have some cream they could spare?_ He might have stopped to talk himself out of the idea, but his hand was already reaching for the handle of the front door before he could stop himself and he was standing before hers, his finger already pressing on the buzzer before he realized it was likely a _bad idea_.

It was far too late to retreat. The chime rang out and he froze, still holding the mug in his right hand. “ _Shit_.” He hadn’t even fixed his hair, or gotten dressed. Good lord, he was still in his house shoes. He hadn’t even _shaved_ yet. As a shadow flashed across the peep hole, he took a breath and counted his lucky stars that at the very least he had brushed his teeth. When the door creaked open and he could see through its tiny sliver a green iris staring at back, he smiled and waited for the door to open further. He saw a nose and then only half of her face was visible, but she opened it no more further, squinting at him with suspicion.

**[Ghost - Natasha Blume](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F57FiTj3bDtZoY4p7Bcl2cV&t=MDhlYTc1N2EwYWQyMTRkMjMwOTg3ZDcxOGI1OWI1MjkzNjc3MjRmMSxXZ2huZERiVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172172663493%2Fchapter-123-damnation&m=1) **

> _Searching for more_
> 
> _You’re standing there_
> 
> _Saying sorry you can’t help me_
> 
> _You leave me buried in an unmarked grave_
> 
> _Watching you_
> 
> _As my remains slowly disappear_
> 
> _And I follow you_
> 
> _Like a ghost_

“Oh … _hello_ again.” His voice wavered, the tone of it waltzing back and forth between a nervous _rattle_ and an excited chirp. He cleared his throat as the green eye watched without movement. “I mean … _Good morning_.” She stared and his nervous smile grew wider. “I was wondering … _might you have some cream to spare_?” He raised his mug and she looked at it. He swore she moved so fast, he didn’t even see the movement. He only felt the coffee being snatched from his hand and the door was shutting.

“Wait!” He reached out, placing a palm against its surface and giving her a bit of resistance. “Are you just going to _leave_ me out here?” He looked up and down the hallway with fear before he leaned forward.

“I’m not … _dressed_.”

“So?” Even through the crack, he could see she was fully clothed. “I’m not either.” He grinned and ruffled his messy hair to make a point of it. “You can’t just leave me out here … _I might get pounced_.”

She grumbled and the door opened, exposing her entire self to him as she sidestepped and permitted him entrance into her apartment. She hadn’t been lying, he supposed. She wasn’t ‘dressed’, per se, but her house clothes were still quite a bit fancier than his. She was, at the very least and as far as he could tell, wearing a bra, shirt, _and_ pants. She waited until he was in fully before closing the door behind him quickly, locking it. She moved around him and headed into the kitchen area as he took in the entirety of her flat.

“Oh, this is lovely.” The layout was similar to their own, but hers was easily bigger and much, much more open. Her ceilings were just a bit higher as the walls were all bare concrete and all the overhead piping was visible, whereas their apartment was drywall. The entire back wall was floor to ceiling windows, as they wrapped around the end corner of the building and gave an expansive view of the city. Her floor plan was completely open and the kitchen was without the wall that theirs had and she was already at the fridge, pulling it open and fishing out a small glass bottle.

“I don’t have _cream_ …” She called out as he walked towards the window. “I have half-and-half. That ok?”

“Yes.” He ripped his eyes from the view and spun to smile at her. “Perfect. Thank you. I can’t stand _black_ coffee. Perhaps I’ll put in _an order_ today for some proper cream.”

“No worries.” She poured and his gaze crawled around the area again. It was _messy_. He supposed that was likely due to her fairly quirky personality, but it was not so messy that he felt uncomfortable. As he looked closer, most of the mess was entirely _the same_. It was all _art_ related. Shipping boxes were piled up high near the door and their recently extracted contents strewn across her dining _and_ coffee tables. _Paint and brushes_. Some opened and others brand new. Painting palettes and canvases, dirty and clean. “Are you a painter?” He crept towards the kitchen, walking slowly passed the dining table.

“Maybe someday?” Her response was somewhat cryptic and he suddenly realized that he had _no_ idea what she did for a living. Had that really never come up? “Sugar?”

“Please.” He nodded. “Two lumps.”

“Lumps …” She giggle snorted and he shook his head at her immaturity, biting back a smile of his own. As he approached the kitchen, he glanced the hammer and nails on the table and as he drew closer, the small pile of two by fours on the other side of the table came into full view. She was heading his way and he picked up the hammer as he grinned.

“Blimey!” He waved it at her, accusingly. “You _were_ hammering! I bloody knew it!”

Snatching the hammer from his grip, she pushed the mug at him before she set the tool back down on the table and smirked. “Yeah. Sorry. Stretched canvases are expensive. I was making my own.”

“Hmmm. Quite handy, aren’t you?” Ana would have complained about splinters five minutes into a task like that. He caught himself mid-thought as the implication of it disturbed him. Why was he comparing them? Stop that. Stop it now. “But why not just _buy_ them … doesn’t seem like you’re _hurting_ for money.” He looked around the vast space and she headed back to the kitchen, treating herself to a _properly_ brewed cup from a _proper_ coffee maker. He was immediately envious. Why did they have that terrible single-serve machine again?

“It’s all …” She poured and looked away. “ _Inherited_. Besides, I like making them. Keeps me busy.”

“So …” He took a sip. “You really don’t do _anything_ then?”

“I used to …” She shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her tied back hair as she nervously felt across the top of her head for bumps. “ _I used to be an engineer._ ”

“Really?!? Ah yes!” He whipped around back to her and raised an eyebrow. “That’s right … you’re a techie. I remember now.” He was pushing for conversation, for _small-talk_ , but she didn’t bite and they stood, staring at each other for a quiet moment before he reached up, nearly touching her cheek. He hadn’t given anything but her eyes much attention and when he did, he had finally noticed the large smear of white paint across her cheek. He really hadn’t intended to touch her, but when she recoiled from him, he pulled himself back and their smiles faded. “Sorry … _there’s_ …” He swallowed hard. “… _paint_. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“Oh.” She moved away, retreating to the kitchen to relieve herself of the streak with her kitchen towel. He should just leave. It was so obvious she disliked him being there, but instead he looked around yet again. The space was so very familiar to him and he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t put his finger on why …

 _He had been here before_.

She was back and her face clean and perfect and he took a deep breath as her judgemental eyes washed over his him. “You O.K. there?”

“Sorry. Yeah.” Dear lord, why was everything so _strange_. Why did he have to be so strange? “Just having a bit of … _déjà vu_ , I guess.” He urged himself to leave, but as he turned, his eyes caught a glimpse of something familiar on the table and he reached for it. It was the same flier that Sarah had and a perfect segue for him to change the subject. “Oh, _have you been to this_? I’ve heard it’s quite good. Do you recommend it?” He squinted at the paper, detailing the event location, times, and a twenty percent off coupon for a single entry at the bottom of the sheet.

“Oh no. I’m not interested in that. The fliers were in our mailboxes. I don’t know why I kept it. But if you’re interested, I think it ends today. It’s probably interesting?”

“Sarah went the other day …” He read the paper over. “But not really my thing. No. Not really sure why anyone would ever want to be _at home_ with a _monster_ , but I guess to each to their own, right?” He laughed nervously at his own words.

“I guess that depends on what you _define_ as … _a monster_.” The topic seemed to be of some importance to her. The serious tone of her voice told him as much and she stepped closer to him, pulling the paper from his grip.

“I guess so, but I don’t think I agree with the romanticization of _deformity_ these days.”

“I don’t agree with that. I think _deformity_ , what someone defines as a deformity, is entirely subjective.”

“The importance of _being different_. I think it’s overrated.”

“I guess that’s easy for _someone_ like _you_ to say, isn’t it? Why would _you_ ever want to be different?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It had been less than five minutes and he had already offended her again. _Good lord_. Either he was just an asshole, or she was overly sensitive. However, he suspected the former, in this case. “Someone like _me_?”

“Someone who _lacks_ deformity.” There was disdain in these words, and she held nothing back. “You’re attractive. Why would you see any importance in being different when you fit in perfectly. What would _you_ know about it?”

“Wait, I thought you just said _deformity_ was subjective?” He didn’t want to provoke, but he was unable to stop himself. “And obviously you see my _lack_ of deformity as a type of deformity in and of itself. And …” _Just stop. Just leave. Say thank you and go … don’t continue …_ “… coming from _someone_ like you, that’s quite hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical?” Her perfect nostrils flared.

“You. You prejudging me for being … _attractive_ , when you aren’t just _attractive_. You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning, in fact.” In _fact_. In **_fact_**. Even as he uttered the words, and even as he knew they were _truth_ , he didn’t actually _feel_ the truth in them. It was an objective statement, even though he didn’t actually find her beautiful at all, save for her bewitching eyes. He found her painfully _boring_. His wife’s words last night rattled in his mind.

 _We could very well be sisters_.

He expected anger. He expected a retort. He expected _fire_ , but instead, her eyes fell to the floor and shame overtook her _beautiful_ face. “Was there anything else I can help you with, _Mister Quin_?”

“I …” He stuttered. Should he apologize? No. Absolutely not. He was _not_ in the wrong, but this was far from the response he expected. Why should she feel _shame_ for being called beautiful? “No. I should be going. Thank you. For the cream, I mean.”

 

* * *

 

While his brothers were focused on Gabriel’s lack of pants, Raphael had knelt beside the facedown body. He pulled it over and looked down into the the dhampir’s blank and open stare. Placing a hand on Quintus’ chest, he closed his eyes and felt for the traces of the soul, feeling for which direction it had travelled. He pinched his violet eyes shut as tears welled up in them and sighed. “Godspeed, my child. Godspeed.” As his own eyes opened, he brought his fingertips down over the body’s lids, closing Quintus’ eyes. “I will afford you as much time as I can.”

While the dhampir could have counted on his two hands, the number of times in his near two thousand years he had lost his temper, Raphael only required one hand, as he had only done so twice before in his _millions_ of years. Once, at the fall of Ozryel, and the other, when his father and love had vanished from them. _This_ would be the third time and everything began to vibrate with rattling friction and all brothers’ eyes flew wide as they turned to look upon the kneeling Hayyoth.

“ _He had nothing to do with this._ ” Raphael hadn’t torn his eyes from the dhampir yet. His jaw clenched tight as he sneered through his fanged teeth. “He never did _anything_ to _you_. Neither of them did. Let them go … _right now, Lucifer_.”

“Let them go?” His little brother snorted.

“They don’t _deserve_ this fate. LET THEM GO.”

“And what exactly did _I_ do to deserve the fate that _I_ got?!” Lucifer retorted, finally releasing his grip on Ozryel as he flung her away, hurling her directly into Michael and the Hands toppled each other to the ground. Raphael stood and spun, the tears streaming down his face.

“ _Why are you like_ **_this_**?!” Raphael spat as the vibration all around them ratcheted up to the next level. “You have _no right_ to take from _them_! You have no right to–”

“I have no right? I have NO RIGHT? And what right did _you_ have, **_brother_**? What right did _you_ have to take from me?!” Lucifer interrupted. “But don’t worry. I’m about to do the same to you … I’ll–”

“You don’t _understand_ what you’re talking about! I took _nothing_ from you!” Raphael stepped forward, pointing a finger towards the Morningstar and Gabriel tried to take a stance between them, putting his hands up, palms facing each of them. “An eye for an eye doesn’t work! An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind, **_Brother_**!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Gabriel’s head pivoted to between them, waving his palm at _each_ of them as the air began to dance with sparks of all colors. “WE CAME TO TALK!”

“Yes!!!” The rumbling all around them began to escalate as Lucifer’s eyes began to crackle with rainbow light. “ _That’s my plan. And then … we’ll all sit in the darkness … together … and alone. Just as we did in the beginning._ ”

The last time they fought, the last time they even touched, they were barely matched and Raphael could hold his own, but he had given little thought about the _time_ that Lucifer had spent in Hell and how time passed _so much faster_ than Heaven.

As the rainbow child streaked passed the Messenger, his talons gripped into the Traveller’s throat with his right hand and Raphael clawed at his grip, trying to pull it out of his flesh as purple energy erupted across their bodies. Lucifer bellowed at the show of power and he pulled his taller brother down to his level, whispering through fanged teeth. “Never forget, you _Indigo Fuck_ , I was the one who _brought_ the light … and _I will be the one to take it away_.”

His left hand was on the other side of Raphael’s jaw and there was a moment of stillness before Lucifer flicked his wrist and Raphael’s neck snapped with an echoing _crack_. Ozryel and Michael were just coming back to their feet as Raphael’s body crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. Gabriel was upon the Morning Star in an instant.

“Oh–” Michael began the sentence, but Ozryel finished.

“ _Shit_.”

 

* * *

  
  


He shaved, just as he had been instructed to do and he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at himself as he brought his hand over his face. Her words had rocked him and he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of it since he had returned to his own apartment.

 _Monsters_. _Monstrocity_. Deformity and … _beauty_. He had taken offense at her accusation of his _attractiveness_ , and even now, as he looked at himself, he felt unclean by it. He _did_ understand what she meant, but staring at this reflection, he wasn’t certain how he could. She was right. He was attractive. Handsome. _Perfect_ , at least in many ways. Did that make him boring? Did that make him _tainted_? But, everything is subjective to some extent, isn’t it?

He tried to shake the feeling off again and turned to leave his reflection behind when his hand came to his chest and he touched his sternum as his body was riddled with bumps. There was a weight there and he shook his head again, taking a deep breath as the feeling of urgency came back to him.

He sat down before the blank document before him, his thumb idly tapping on the space bar. _Hmmm_. That’s a thought, wasn’t it? _Monsters_. Might that be an excellent topic to breach? It was intriguing, and … perhaps she might have been on to something after all. He needed inspiration, or possibly just a distraction. He grabbed his jacket and phone and was already out the door before he realized it. Moving like a whirlwind, something drove him to hurry.

The elevator was _not_ there so he took the stairs, per her keen advice, and he stared at the offline tube map on his phone, plotting his course as he bounded down the steps and into the lobby. He was in the station waiting for his train to arrive within minutes and that’s when he spotted _her_ sitting on a bench not more than five feet away. She hadn’t noticed him yet, her nose stuck squarely in her phone and as _his train_ approached, he _hoped_ that wouldn’t be the one she was waiting for … and _she stood_.

“Oh … _Bullocks_.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still reading this and still enjoying it, _for the love of god_ , please let me know ...
> 
> Thanks.


	109. 12.4 - Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it is done. I’m not sure why this chapter was so very difficult to write, but it was. I was looking forward to it for quite some time, but when it came down to actually putting fingers to keyboard and getting out of my head, it refused to come. I will confess writing this story and these characters has generally been an enjoyable act. All I usually have to do is let the story play out in my mind and I eagerly type out the scenes as they come to me. But for some reason, this chapter was torture.
> 
> I knew where I wanted to go with it and I knew how I wanted to get there, but each time I sat down, I found myself at a loss to proceed. As the days went on without even a single word typed, I began to hem and haw over everything that I had done so far. It seemed as if my writer’s block was the start of an avalanche of doubt, and each day the pressure increased more and more.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. As always, it’s not perfect and some things did not turn out as smooth as I hoped, but it’s time to let it go and move on. This entire fic has been a serenade to the character of Mr. Quinlan, but with this chapter, I instead turn my gaze and focus my words to Mr. Guillermo del Toro himself.
> 
> We are all Others in this world. All of us. We are all monsters or saints in the eyes of someone else. The only way to move past the prisons that we have built for ourselves, both individually and socially, is to embrace every aspect of ourselves, regardless of its perceived shade of gray and to see the beauty in difference.

**[When It’s All Over - RAIGN](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0u5VoHOoR57C2FH70uOBMp&t=N2IyMzY0YjczN2MyODVhMmNmNzQ0MDdiYTg1MWIyMDAxNjE3ZDFlZix6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

> _It’s all gone wrong_
> 
> _Heaven hold us_
> 
> _We’ve lost the sun_
> 
> _Heaven told us_
> 
> _The world was strong_
> 
> _Heaven hold us_
> 
> _Where do we go_
> 
> _When it’s all over_
> 
> _Come back from the future_
> 
> _Before we didn’t fall_
> 
> _Can the broken sky unleash_
> 
> _One more sunrise for the **dawn**_

The tube opened and he minded the gap as he stepped over it, trying to feign ignorance of her presence. He perused the car for an empty seat but when he found none, he opted to grab one of the filthy plastic straps as he fished his phone from his pocket and pretended to look distracted. This might have worked, except he had no _bloody signal_.

“You following me?” Her voice chimed and he pinched his eyes shut as he swelled with embarrassment.

“No.” He glanced up and forced a grin. “Not intentionally, at least, but I guess that depends on where you might be heading I suppose.”

She reached for the pole closest to him, stabilizing herself as they bumped along through the tunnel. “Sorry if I was rude this morning.”

Her apology was unexpected and unnecessary, yet he accepted it anyways. It was the polite thing to do. “That’s alright. I wasn’t exactly faultless in it either.”

Releasing the plastic strap, he placed a hand on the same pole as her, turning to give her his full attention. He had been attempting to give her space, but she had approached him and he felt like she opened the door for further conversion, that is, until the overweight, middle-aged man two seats down called out to her.

“Hey honey, you wanna sit down?” He stood and waved a hand towards his now vacant seat.

“Awww. Thanks!” She accepted with zeal as Alex frowned. Before she left him standing there alone, she spun and pointed to her face. “It’s like a _superpower_. I get all _kinds_ of shit _now_.”

 _Now_? What an odd statement. He watched as she slid into the seat and pulled out her own phone. Normally he wouldn’t begrudge something so trivial, but the whole interaction annoyed him and he glared at the hefty man as he conspicuously leaned forward and stared down the front of her shirt.

It didn’t matter. He urged himself to let it go. Besides, he needed to get off on the next stop to change lines anyways and as the car slowed down to the station, he stepped at the door, wishing to get away as soon as possible. The train sped away and he walked briskly to the line a level below and he hadn’t even noticed she was right behind him … _still_.

“Are _you_ following _me_ now?” He quipped at her as they stood on the nearly empty platform. The sign flashed that their car would arrive in less than a minute.

“No.” Her nose furrowed at his accusation. “I’m just–”

Her words were dominated by the loud arrival of their metal chariot. Both stepping up to the same door, Alex cringed as he looked at the packed car. A quick glance down the line showed that the entire train was _packed_ and they halted, unsure if they should even attempt to push their way in. A gruff looking man smirked at her, raising an eyebrow, he took a deep step backwards, forcing the people behind him to squish. “There’s room _for you_ , _sweetheart_.”

“Thanks!” She chimed.

Alex didn’t like the man’s tone, nor did he like the fact that the man’s grin was obviously more ravenous than polite. He _definitely_ didn’t like it when she stepped forward and took the offer, snuggling up against the stranger as she turned her back and smiled at him.

His disappointment was clear, his upper lip curling in frustration and disgust and as the doors began to shut and she pointed to her face, shrugging innocently. “I’m tellin’ ya. It’s a _superpower_ , dude.” He could only stare blankly at her through the glass as the tube sped along and he was left behind in its wake.

 

* * *

 

The queue for the Museum was ridiculously long and stretched down the block. It was almost entirely comprised of school children, he realized he should have expected at least _some_ crowd on the exhibit’s final day, but alas, he was disappointed nonetheless. But said disappointment quickly melted away as he spied her in line, just in front of the screaming herd.

_Son of a …_

He spotted the teacher in the crowd of middle schoolers and pointed to Elaine. “Do you mind if I have a quick word?”

“Oh … no.” The woman was frazzled and rightly so. She waved him through. “Nah … go ahead.”

He weaved through the hoard of tiny people and slipped behind her, leaning down smoothly as he spoke towards her ear. “Now I’m convinced I’m actually _following_ you.”

Her jump was considerable, her phone nearly slipping from her grip as she turned with enthusiasm, embarrassment flushing red across her cheeks as she realized they had gone to the same place. He called her out _immediately_. “But, I thought you were _not interested_ in this?”

“Yeah, well … You changed my mind.” She was next up and he waited patiently.

“Hi there.” The young man behind the counter said, smiling at her as he took in her appearance. “One _adult_? That’s $35.”

“I had a coupon for 20% off …” Alex shook his head as she spoke to the teenager, shaking his head as she leaned forward, batting her dark eyes at the boy. “But I forgot it.”

“Oh …” The kid smiled. “That’s ok. I can ring that up for you.”

“Thanks!” She bounced. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

She winked at Alex as she walked passed and Alex shook his head again. “Your superpower?”

“Hell yeah.”

He was up and he looked at the boy. “That’s $35.”

“I also had a coupon …” He didn’t need the discount, but he knew _she_ didn’t either. She did it simply because she could and he wished to test this so-called _superpower_.

The boy looked at him, up and down, left and right and shrugged. “It’s $35.”

 

* * *

 

**[Descent - Lawless, Dawn Golden](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7GE7xrV4eMXb4gW4pkAE4U&t=OTJmMWJlNGIyMDlmYmZiZTM1NDUxNmQyZWNhZmYxMzAxYzE1NzFlNyx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

> _Today, we will see the sun in flames_
> 
> _Tidal waves, washing on the wild way_
> 
> _Today, everything we thought will change_
> 
> _And this life will never be the same again_  
> 
>  
> 
> _And just let go_
> 
> _We will rise together_

The first monster that greeted him did so from an ominous position of power. It was a massive green and overly familiar head, staring down upon him menacingly as the escalator whisked him into the main area.

It wasn’t that large of a space. Given the amount of hype and advertisements lauded at the spectacle, from the banners strung high along the streets, even blocks away, to the flyers covering the subway windows, he was expecting something quite grand. Something large and impressive. But instead, as he strolled into the heart of the exhibit, he was met with a more intimate and confining space.

Though, its surprising size did not detract from the abundance of its content. The area was positively overflowing with pop culture _riches_. A large, flat screen TV was mounted on the far back wall, playing various interviews with the creator and his overly merry voice filled the space, echoing through it as the visitors pursued his soul’s most treasured assets.

She wasn’t too far ahead of him, yet somehow the gaggle of at least fifty students divided them as they all meandered along the unofficial queue, attacking the perimeter wall first. He tried to ignore her presence, but his height gave him a clear view of her over the much shorter children and he found himself glancing her way often, though he tried to be swift enough not to attract her attention. Perhaps it was in this attempt to keep his head down, that he didn’t notice the children had moved on, but she hadn’t. She lingered at one of the pieces and she was still reading the small plaque before her, her arms tightly crossed over her chest when he stepped forward.

_Should he skip it? Or should he just wait and read it behind her back?_

He decided on the former and as he started to pass, she took note of him, stepping backwards and cutting off his exit as her arms tightened. “I think _he_ over simplifies it.”

“Pardon?”

She flicked her head towards the wall and he paused, slightly to the right of her and slightly behind her, his height giving him a clear vantage to read the plaque and he took in the words, a slow sentence at a time. 

> _It’s either_ **_tragedy_** _or superiority that makes a good monster …_

“Some of the most powerful phrases _are_ the simplest ones.” He countered. “But to which part are you referring? I find the statement quite complex myself.” 

> _The tragic beings are beautiful and heroic in their vulnerability and_ **_individuality_** …

“Not _all_ monsters are …” Her voice cracked, but only barely. Her body shifted and she stood beside him, never tearing her eyes from the wall nor uncrossing her arms. “ _Beautiful_.” 

> _The standards of perfection advocated by commercial culture are corrosive, demonizing_ **_the flaws that exist in us all_** …

“Wait … weren’t _you_ just the one lecturing me on _that_ just this morning?” 

> _They also mirror the_ **_hypocrisies_** _of society_.

“Heh. Ummm. Yeah, well … not _all_ monsters are beautiful.” She finally looked at him, raising a single brow before she moved on, without another word. And he followed.

The creator’s voice rattled over the intercom, clearly the volume set far too loud as it rumbled beyond the small area set up with the large TV to stream several of his past interviews. 

> **_“Monsters are the patron saints of imperfections.”_ **

The next piece was a man. Even under all of his external deformity, one could see the more human characteristics and it was _a man_. He was seated in the corner, a cane resting in his hand and a large banner strung up above his head, conveying his _title_ in large, elegant letters: _The Terrible Elephant Man_. 

“That was a _terribly_ sad movie.” It was a bad pun, but he made it nonetheless. Turning to her, he feigned a tiny but obviously fake grin. “Have you seen it?”

She answered him in a way that made his counterfeit smile turn genuine, and in a way that caused him pause, as he was finding she often did. In fact, she answered him in the _same_ exact way she had answered him at dinner and cleverly the _same way the movie itself ended_.

She answered him with _Poetry_ and with _Tennyson_.

**_Nothing will die._ **

“The world was _never_ made; It will **_change_** , but it will not fade. So let the **_wind_** range; For even and morn Ever will be. Thro’ eternity. Nothing was born; **_Nothing will die_**.” Her voice trailed off and she stepped forward, [taking in the ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFBdxCJISe10&t=YWRkNDBmNmQxMmEzMTgyZWM5Nzc2ZDU2N2Q4YzEyNDQ3OTUxYzFjZCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[monster](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFBdxCJISe10&t=YWRkNDBmNmQxMmEzMTgyZWM5Nzc2ZDU2N2Q4YzEyNDQ3OTUxYzFjZCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[ and his ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFBdxCJISe10&t=YWRkNDBmNmQxMmEzMTgyZWM5Nzc2ZDU2N2Q4YzEyNDQ3OTUxYzFjZCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[fragility](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFBdxCJISe10&t=YWRkNDBmNmQxMmEzMTgyZWM5Nzc2ZDU2N2Q4YzEyNDQ3OTUxYzFjZCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1).

She left the last line off and Alex felt compelled to finish the verse as he was certain she expected him to. It was very clearly a test and he was more than happy to play it. “[All things will ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fgenius.com%2FAlfred-lord-tennyson-nothing-will-die-annotated&t=NThiNGE4OWQ0NTAyNjg0OTFiZGYzMTZlNGY2MzU3ODE1YjkzYTZkYSx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[change](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fgenius.com%2FAlfred-lord-tennyson-nothing-will-die-annotated&t=NThiNGE4OWQ0NTAyNjg0OTFiZGYzMTZlNGY2MzU3ODE1YjkzYTZkYSx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fgenius.com%2FAlfred-lord-tennyson-nothing-will-die-annotated&t=NThiNGE4OWQ0NTAyNjg0OTFiZGYzMTZlNGY2MzU3ODE1YjkzYTZkYSx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)” The words. The verse. _The poem_. He felt unnerved by it and he moved on quickly, taking in a deep breath as he approached the next piece. And she followed. 

> **_“There is beauty and humility in imperfection.”_ **

The next setup was comprised of three all too familiar figures. He had already been greeted by the enormous head of one them while entering the hall. A green, brutish thing, holding the hand of his _lovely_ “monster” bride. A third, ominous figure stood behind them in his white doctor’s apron.

“Mrs. Monster isn’t very monstrous … is she?” Elaine was quick to note. “I guess there’s not much room for _imperfection_ in **_her_** _beauty_.” 

“Well.” Alex considered carefully, staring at the wax being. “Her hair _is_ pretty monstrous?”

“Uh huh. She’s even more attractive than the _human_ doctor himself.” She snorted at the hypocrisy of it as she moved on, unamused by any of it. “ _Monstrous my ass_.” 

> **_“Find beauty in the things that feel alien to you, and you will find something richer in yourself.”_ **

As she stepped in front of him, he looked her up and down. In fact, he was certain he had done a double take, as something was _off_. It scratched at his mind, pawed at his memories. Had she always been that short? He hadn’t thought so, but as he replayed the morning in his mind, every memory matched what he was seeing now and Alex pinched the brow of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, clenching his eyes shut; his mind swam.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Um … Too much coffee, I think.” He laughed it off, opening his eyes again to the _very_ short woman. Wait, was she even _shorter_ now? Glancing down at her shoes, he checked for maybe a change of footwear? She was wearing flats. She always wore flats … _hadn’t she_? “Did you change your …” What was he even going to ask? Did she change her … _height_? His sentence trailed off and she moved along.

They hovered around the next two pieces in silence. He remembered the movies and he quite enjoyed them, but they were disturbing to say the least.

The Pale Man, though he quite disliked this name for some reason, was tall and, well, _very pale_. His skin seeming to melt and hang from his bones and his eyes were in the palms of his hands. 

The Fauno was remarkable in its details, but the aspect that drew him the most were the swirls inset into the creature’s forehead. Something was eerily lovely about them and he had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. He quite liked the horns too. They were reminiscent of [Ovis Orientalis](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMouflon&t=NGI2OTQ1NTI1ZTZiMmM0Mjg0MzI2NmI0YTE1MmY2MjVkMmZjZDc1MSxURDBCaVFPUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F169671185478%2F114-sacrifice&m=1), a wild ram he had seen in the [Arabian desert](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F30603636&t=NjRjZWEzMGE1ZjBhNmMzZDcxZTZkNmQ2ZGQ5YmQ3OTBiNDZmODRhOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1). 

Alex stopped and fought the twitch that nearly erupted through his neck. His mind hiccuped suddenly and he pinched his eyes shut again. He’d never been to the Arabian desert. He must have seen it at a zoo somewhere. Yes. Of course. _Of course_. That was it. 

> **_“You will make peace with your own darkness and your own imperfection.”_ **

She paused at the wax poet, and even from behind, he knew she was likely smiling. She did not resist touching this exhibit as well as he had resisted the last, and she reached out and brushing her fingers delicately over the book spread wide open in the figure’s lap. 

“Do you like Poe?” He was genuinely curious, but he figured he already knew that answer.

“Who doesn’t?” She pulled her touch back and he expected _some_ more poetry to flow from her lips. Perhaps _The Raven_ , or maybe even _The Bells_. He was hopeful, in fact he longed for it, but was disappointed as she moved on quietly, removing her light jacket.

She draped it over her forearm as she passed before him and her arms were healthy. As she turned, the muscle of her bicep flexed gently and he found their size actually surprising, but he wasn’t sure why. The first couple of times they met, she wore short-sleeved shirts. Why didn’t he notice this before? The difference in size of her wrist and her bicep was now discernable, both pleasant and _natural_.

He waited as she stepped forward, resisting the urge to grab his temple again. He should probably get some water. Perhaps he was dehydrated? But whatever meandering thoughts he was having dissipated as he glanced down at her again, his eyes squinting on the thickness of her legs. Her thighs curved and touched, more than just barely.

 _And her ass … her ass was …_ He bit into his lower lip as his mind pawed through all the adjectives that the roundness of her brought to mind.

“Ahem?” He might have finished the previous thought, but his eyes jerked up as she noticed his attention. Oh no. _Oh no_ … Had he been gawking?! And she had _caught_ him?! Good lord, Alex. “Problem?”

“No. No.” He almost chuckled. Definitely not a problem. But she was entirely unamused and he scratched his head. “Sorry.” His voice cracked and he cleaned his throat as he stepped forward and locked eyes with hers. “ _Sorry_.”

“Do you _always_ apologize?” She snorted.

“Unfortunately yes. I’m _English_.” He shrugged innocently. “It’s what we do. _Sorry_.”

“Uh huh.” She wasn’t amused _still_ , even after his jest. Wait … _was she_? Did he detect the slightest hint of a smile before she turned away from him?

He honestly couldn’t tell and he looked down at his pamphlet with blushing guilt, choosing to divert his attention on the fake rain windows behind the wax figure. “Looks quite real.” He changed the subject. “Doesn’t it?

“Yeah, but _too bad it’s all just an_ **_illusion_**.” She responded. 

> **_“You can be whatever you want and you’ll find a place that loves you.”_ **

Ghouls. Vampires. Faires. Monsters of _all_ sorts greeted them every step of the way and they were almost lost in its romantic feel. They danced along, speaking often as they took it all in. He was actually glad she was here. He wasn’t sure how he would have felt if he had visited the eerie place alone.

The next section was filled with hanging art. She paused at the all-too-familiar pieces that gave homage to a well-known fairy tale. He could only _imagine_ what she might say about this one. Beauty, after all, was in its very title.

“ _The Cursed Princess_. Always liked this one.” She surprised him as she stared at the drawing. “ _Princess Aurora …_ getting _woken up_ by _her handsome_ prince.”

“You know … originally …” He had no intention of bursting her bubble, but he couldn’t help himself _at all_. “It was actually a story of cannibalism.”

“What?!” She turned to him, refusing his statement as her eyes widen with growing horror. “No it wasn’t.”

“It’s true!” He retorted, making a quick cross over his heart with his index finger. “I swear. Her step-mother attempts to eat her _and her children_. In fact, in some variations, the prince actually raped her _while she’s sleeping_ and that’s where the children come from.”

She stared at him silently, half in disbelief and half in disgust. Her pout was significant and _her bubble was rightly popped_. Alex shrugged, smiling as innocently as he could. “Sorry.” He wasn’t really sorry. He was actually _very_ amused. “But, I do agree that **_Aurora_** is a _lovely_ name … though not for _this_ fairy tale, I’m afraid. I prefer to think of her as the goddess of the _Dawn_.”

Something was slightly different though. Perhaps it was the lighting? He had been quite certain before that she was in her mid twenties, but how he wasn’t so sure. Her glare towards him caused the skin between her eyes to pinch together and he noticed fine lines that weren’t there before. Perhaps late twenties? No, actually definitely older than that. Mid-thirties?

“Mmm hmm.” She crossed her arms, raising a single eyebrow to him as she moved along, making sure not to glance at the art again. 

> **_“You only find yourself when you disobey. Disobedience is the beginning of responsibility, I think.”_ **

The next bit bothered him. He stared at the marionettes and puppets on display and something about the very thought of them rubbed him wrong and she could already read him like a book. “Don’t like _puppets_?”

He shook his head. Apparently he didn’t, thought he couldn’t remember any reason why not. There was something fundamental about their lack of agency, about their lack of control and he stared at them. “It’s not the puppets that I mind. It’s _their strings_ …” 

> **_“Unable to perceive the shape of You …”_ **

He shook off the feeling and diverted his attention back to her. Her arms, still crossed, gave substantial uplift to the curves of her chest. 

> **_“I find You all around me …”_ **

He was quite surprised by this as he found himself staring for far too long … _again_. 

> **_“Your presence fills my eyes with Your love …”_ **

He was absolutely certain she was _very small_ in that area but now, the cleavage was pronounced enough that the flesh of her breasts billowed out of the top of her shirt. They smooshed together, creating pillows of flesh and warmth _and_ … 

> **_“It humbles my heart …”_ **

He _might_ have been investigating this apparent change too closely and she dropped her hands and turned her back to him. 

> **_"For You are everywhere.”_ **

_God dammit, Alex. What was he? Sixteen again?_

“This is _really_ cool.” Her attention was distracted and he breathed a sigh of relief, peering over her shoulder at the amazing little contraption hidden behind a cube of glass.

“[L’Oracle du Mort](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DGI1LnFUSejU&t=NTEwZWRmZjk2MjU3ZWRhMzFkYjI0OGE4Yzg2MWY4ZWRiMDAyOTdkOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1).” He read the name on its plaque out loud, translating it. “The Oracle of the Dead.”

It was a marvelous little contraption. An automated fortune telling machine, complete with its own miniature magician, question tablets, and devil’s clock.

“I wonder what it’d say for _me_.” She smiled and tapped on the glass. “Too bad we aren’t allowed to _run_ it.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“You wouldn’t wanna know your future?” She glanced at him, her voice filled with surprise.

“Absolutely not.” He purred. “That would take all the fun out of life, wouldn’t it?”

“Hmmm.” She nodded, amused by this answer, brushing the brown hair from her eyes and that’s when he noticed the speckled skin beneath it. Had he _not_ noticed _that_ before? Dear Lord, how drunk was he the other night?

But all at once, as he scraped through his memories, he was flooded with images of it. In the lift, at the dinner party, in her apartment. Her face _had_ been gloriously speckled, hadn’t it? Pale _and_ spotted. But, regardless of how new they felt, regardless of how shamed he felt for forgetting them, he was more at ease with her now than he had ever been. 

> **_“There is beauty in the grotesque and grotesque in the beauty and there is … There is a flow. There is no black and white. There is just beginning and the end. Is a human.”_ **

**[Freak of Nature - Broods](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0PXUcKdinuGyp0byj05qFi&t=MzczMDZkNTczYTk1ZDY2MjgxMzcyN2I5Njk0MTFiYTJkNjc5MjlmNyx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

> _Help me now, lonely lover_
> 
> _Show me how to uncover_
> 
> _Freak of mother, nature’s game_
> 
> _I could blame her for my brain_

The next was a plaque of text and some models of various insects. She read part of the words out loud. “Insect anatomies are optimally, even elegantly, designed for survival, but they trigger revulsion in many people.” She chuckled. “So true. Did you know that [anisoptera spend a long time as nymphs, undergoing several incomplete metamorphosis of varying stages before they finally emerge as one of ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20818894&t=NDA0ZmY5NjEyZTRjMDA4ZGUwYWZlMDQxMTI0OGIwMzA0MzQ2YTZkOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[nature’s most perfect predators](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20818894&t=NDA0ZmY5NjEyZTRjMDA4ZGUwYWZlMDQxMTI0OGIwMzA0MzQ2YTZkOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)[.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20818894&t=NDA0ZmY5NjEyZTRjMDA4ZGUwYWZlMDQxMTI0OGIwMzA0MzQ2YTZkOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1)” It sounded as if she was reading a textbook from her memory and he quite enjoyed her enthusiasm. He waited for her to continue with the lesson, but his grin seemed to embarrass more than encourage. “Sorry. Anisoptera is a–”

“ _A dragonfly_.” He grinned further.

“Yeah.” Her brows pinched uncomfortably. “How did you know that?”

He wasn’t actually sure. The outburst actually surprised him and he dismissed it, along with her question entirely, offering up something else he wasn’t sure how he knew. “Did you know they represent both _change_ and the perspective of _self-realization_?”

“ _Yeah_.” She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “They do.”

“So … “ He glanced at the plaque again. “Do they revulse you?” 

> **_“What you do when you love someone is look at that person as that person is.”_ **

“Hardly. I’ve always felt at ease around them actually.” She walked around the models and poked several of them, touching their elongated legs and grinning as she did, her lips pulling tight across her teeth and he noticed the bulk of their previous plumpness was … _gone_. Gone?

Perhaps it was just because she was smiling? Perhaps … he was staring again and she was quick to notice as the smile melted away, leaving the thin lips behind in its wake, and she turned from him. _How strange …_ He could have sworn … His memory assured him they had always been thin and they ambled along. He must be imagining things … 

> **_“I think that evil is a spiritual engine in our world, our lives, our universe, that functions in order to create good.”_ **

There were only two pieces remaining. They were some of the largest there and he paused at the first, as a significant chill ran down the center of his spine. Entirely without words, he stood motionless as she tilted her head at it the figure curiously.

“Yikes. I wouldn’t wanna mess with her.” She snorted a chuckle, looking the massive angel up and down. The creature’s four wings were lined with eyes and her half moon head cracked down one side. “I think she’d even fuck **_me_** up.” 

“I think …” He stared at it and a sense of relief washed over him. “I think I’d definitely want her on my side. Though, I think she’d look better with a sword … no?”

He posed the question but received no answer. As he turned to ask the question again, he found that she had already moved onto the final piece and just as the Angel of Death’s visage had washed over him strangely, the next one did so _even more_.

Obviously, the creator had a thing for the winged race of angelic beings, as this piece was dedicated to _them_ as well. One angel, horned, bald, and nearly naked, stood above another, his bat-like wings spread wide and spear in his hand, thrust down towards his fallen brother.

Though the other, armoured and clothed, his long hair peeking out from his helmet and his golden eagle-like wings extended, was at a distinct disadvantage, he had not yet been defeated. His arm outstretched as he held a knife to his dominating brother’s ribs.

“Michael …” It was a statement and she whispered it. “… and Lucifer.”

Leaning forward to check its title for names, he found just a single word: **_Standoff_**. “Nope. I think it’s just the general struggle of the human spirit?” He offered his own interpretation. “Good vs bad?”

“It’s rarely …” Snorting, she crossed her arms as she stared at it. Nothing that they saw this day had affected her as much as this. “Is it really _ever_ that simple?”

“No. It’s _never_ that simple.”

“I don’t get it. After everything we’ve seen today …” She sounded almost disappointed. “Encouraging us to find beauty in the grotesque … what the hell is this supposed to imply?” And now she sounded _angry_.

“What do you mean by _imply_?” He challenged her. “I think it’s spot on, actually.”

“No.” She shook her head. “This implies that there _is_ a good and a bad. I thought the entire point was to see _beyond_ such … _dichotomy_.”

“But don’t you see?” She absolutely understood, she just didn’t realize she did yet. “That’s actually _exactly_ it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because we’re all monsters _and_ we’re all saints. There’s a bit of _demon_ in all of us. _At some point_ in our lives, we will inevitably experience _each_. It’s how we chose to let it _evolve_ us that determines the depth and strength of our character.” The words flowed from him and though he meant no harm with them, as he turned to smile down at her, he only saw her back, as she walked briskly from him. He stood transfixed, unsure what he had said until he followed her path to the bathroom. “ _Oh thank the gods_.” He thought he had said something _terrible_ again.

 _Wait_ … his mind skipped a beat … _Gods_?

 

* * *

 

**[Pluto Reborn](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0SHMq11wikyiRzzv2g6cTI&t=NjFmMGZmMmRhNWZjYjk1ZTQ2Njc3Njk2NzZmMGYzNTNkYmZhNmMyOCx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

Her hands trembled and even as she scrubbed them fiercely, coaxing the soap into large suds with her violent rubs, plunged them into the cold water streaming from the faucet, her shaking did not subside. She glanced at her reflection and looked away quickly as she began to wash her hands again _and then again_.

_Fuck. Fuck …_

She hadn’t even realized she was crying until the woman behind her spoke. “Are you alright, dear?” As she spun around to dismiss the woman, she felt the tears trailing down her cheeks and the snot hanging from her nose. She stared down at the fresh paper towel the woman offered to her.

“Yeah.” One massive inhale wasn’t sufficient to wrangle the viscous liquid that trailed from her nostril, so she accepted the paper towel and wiped herself before turning back to the water she had left running. “Yeah. Thanks. _I’m fine_.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m ok.” She looked into the mirror and this time, she _really_ looked. Her black mascara and eyeliner was smeared across her cheeks.

“Well …” The old woman shrugged and placed a hand on her shoulder, a tiny grin curling up at the corners of her elderly mouth. “He ain’t worth it, _honey_.”

“Excuse me?” Elaine squinted at the woman through the mirror as a chill ran down her back. She didn’t recognize her, but it mattered not.

“I saw you get upset out there.” She explained and began to rub her shoulder, in both a comforting and condescending way. “He said something to you, didn’t he? Men are all like that.”

“No, no. It wasn’t _him_. It was …” Elaine attempted to counter, but as she looked at her visitor, everything around her twitched and blurred. The woman … _Woman_? She was different, but she really wasn’t. Elaine’s patience at the situation melted away as she wrangled in her emotions. No new tears were flowing as annoyance replaced her previous _shame and fear_. “ _You can go now_.”

“Pardon me?” The woman balked at her rudeness, just a hint at a hidden accent leaking through the syllables.

“ _I said …_ ” Elaine turned and glared up into the _woman’s_ frigid hazel eyes. “ ** _You can go now_**.”

“How rude. I was only trying to help.” She turned, pinching her oversized handbag close to her ribs as she ambled out of the restroom, grumbling as she left. “Young people these days … _Well I never …_ ”

Elaine was alone again. Just her and the mirror. Just her and that damned reflection. Every fiber of her being demanded that she _not_ turn back to it, but she couldn’t help herself and she did anyways, gawking in horror at what stared back. Wetting the towel, she began to rub the black streaks from her cheeks and with each stroke, her olive skin seemed to wipe away, leaving a pale, spotted complexion beneath it.

“No. _No_. **_No_**.” Her voice shook as she began to wipe more vigorously, panic growing and her body shuddering as she brought the disposable cloth over her _once beautiful_ skin. She stared at the wet cloth but could see _nothing_ on it. No eyeliner. No foundation. No makeup at all. It was just white. “ _Fuck_.”

 _Unacceptable._ This was … _unacceptable_.

“You motherfucker.” She wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but when she fished out her phone, she knew she was talking to _him_. She checked for _any_ update, but was met with the same ominous blank notifications that had plagued her for days now. No calls. No voicemail. No texts. She looked back at the familiar face and she refused the tears.

Why was this happening? Why was … but she already knew, didn’t she? She already understood. This wasn’t _him_. Either of them. This wasn’t them. This was _her_. She was doing this and she had _no right_ to be angry about any of it, did she?

She was a _monster_ after all She deserved this. She …

 _No. NO._ **_NO._** She dug her compact from her oversized purse and as she began to rub the application sponge with powder vigorously, glancing up yet again and staring at the face in the mirror.

She _deserved_ this. What right did she have to be _anything_ else? She had done such terrible things and she had _never_ been anything more than … _this_ thing.

“Why did you ever think _you_ deserved a happy ending?” She snapped the makeup container shut, without applying any of it and without ever looking away from the eyes in the mirror. She tapped the edge of the makeup against the sink as she bit into her thin lips. “ _This_ is what you _deserve_ , isn’t it?”

She _knew_ that wasn’t exactly it, but it sounded right. She _felt_ she deserved to be _punished_ , but on some level, as her tears dried up and her face grew calm, she accepted this wasn’t about _punishment_ at all, but perhaps its very opposite.

##  **Metamorphosis.**

In this moment, the five or so seconds before a young woman would bumble into the bathroom with her toddler and disturb the quiet solitude of this deafening self-reflection, she _felt_ it. Utterly. Completely. Without _regret_. Without _doubt_. _It_ overwhelmed her. _It_ surrounded her. _It_ became her.

##  **Change.**

“No.” It was a simple thing to be overwhelmed with and she grinned ever so slightly as the air conditioning kicked in and the wind blew the tiny wisps of ashen hair across her forehead.

 _It …_ was freedom.

“This … is _who_ you are.” She swallowed hard as she touched her hair, watching the ashen hue richen into a more _golden_ color and she took the long strands in her hands and tied it back, into a high ponytail. “Fuck it.”

##  **Self-realization.**

Navigating around the woman and her screaming baby, Elaine propped the door open with her foot to escape without touching the handle, but before she left, she chucked the makeup into the trash with savage intent as Ellie’s voice rattled in her mind.

##  **“ **Anisoptera** … It is said to arrive in your life when you are called upon to transform and evolve.”**

 

* * *

 

She returned from the restroom and he was waiting for her.

“Oh … you’re still here?” She questioned and he suddenly grew quite nervous. Should he have not waited? She rushed off and … _Hmmm_. It was true that they weren’t here _together_ but it would have been quite rude for him to just leave, wouldn’t it? He could have said something, in fact, he _should_ have said something, but he found himself staring at her instead, his mouth slightly agape as he took a deep breath in. “What?” She asked guiltily.

“Oh nothing. ” It was a lie. Something was … _different_. Something was wildly different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She looked exactly as _he remembered_ her looking. “Why?”

“Why are you …” Fiddling with her jacket sleeve, she looked away from his meandering gaze. “Looking at me _funny_.” 

“No I’m not.” He knew that was a lie. He was a _terrible_ liar. “Sorry.” Ugh. _Another_ apology. “Did you change …” He tilted his head. “Did you change your makeup?”

“Yeah, I, uh …” She looked nervous. Her stance shifted and she looked like she might release her hair from her ponytail. Unwilling to look up into his face, she spoke to the floor. “I wiped it off.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t mad. Finally, some _reassurance_. In the haste of his relief, the next bit flowed from his mouth before he could stop it. “You look much better.” Oh no. Did he just say that? That implied she didn’t look fine before. He panicked. “That’s not to say you didn’t look fine before, I mean. You looked _lovely_ … before.”

“Oh.” Disappointment. Her head tilted up slightly and she eyed the bathroom door again. “I can put it back on if. I was just _testing_ it out.”

“No.” The word was much firmer than he intended and it shocked even him. “I mean. _Please_ don’t.”

“But you just said I looked lovely **_before–_** ”

“No. No. That’s definitely not what I meant.” Perhaps he should just quit while he was ahead? But, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself now even if he wished, and honestly, he _didn’t_ wish it. Not even in the slightest. “I meant to say … I don’t think you need it … _at all_. I think … In fact, I find you more lovely … _without_ it.”

 _Good … gods_. What the hell did he just say to his strange and oddly rude neighbor? But she hadn’t been rude for some time now. Nevertheless, he regretted it but only momentarily, as the anxiety over the statement melted away as she met his eyes. “Really?”

Swallowing hard, he looked around before shoving his hands into his pockets. No. This is a _bad idea_. This is a _very_ bad idea. No, Alex. NO. **NO. Not again.**

“Uh … ” But the words were already escaping. He couldn’t stop them, not even if had actually wanted to. “Would you care to grab some lunch?”

 _Damnation_.

“It’s … um …” She pulled her phone out and glanced at the screen. “Don’t you think it’s really _late_ for lunch?”

“Oh really?” He chuckled. _Good_. She was declining. This was a good thing. Go with it. He urged himself. “What time is it?”

“Already past three.”

“Bloody hell! How long were we in there?” He spun around innocently, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to save grace from the decline of his offer. “Wow, time _really_ flew. Right. So–”

“So, how about _Happy Hour_ instead?” She smiled and this was the most genuine and contagious one yet. _Bullocks_. Backtrack now. It’s late. It’s too late. Sarah will be home soon. No. No, Alex. No.

But he swam in her green eyes. He basked in the light of them. “ _Smashing idea_.” There was no hesitation. Not as he looked down into her spotted and square face. Not as he glanced at her thin and grinning lips. Not even as his famished eyes crawled over every inch of her body and she shifted nervously at his obvious leering. _He was doomed_. “ _I’m parched._ ”

She led the way, walking mere inches ahead of him towards the escalator down and as they left the exhibit, one final banner, hung high above, bid them farewell: 

> _“It is my most cherished desire that as you leave the exhibition, the monsters_ **_follow you home_** , _and that they_ **_live with you for the rest of your life._** ”

He thought it was a nice sentiment, that was until she glanced back at him as he stepped right behind her and the escalator carried them downwards. She was giggling, obviously finding some amusement in the situation.

“Well, it is true …” He leaned down, purring into her ear. “I _will_ be following you home.” He flirted candidly, but she only turned her back to him, continuing to giggle as she did. The implication was clear and he shook his head, her laughter as contagious as her smile. He gave the back of her shoulder a playful poke. “But, do you think me a **_monster_**?”

“We’re _all_ monsters, _Mister_ Quin.” She chortled in glee. “And I think that’s the entire point.”

“Indeed.”

_Indeed._

* * *

**[Prodigal - Unions](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3qJA9UivM99hFVK3Pk8SRh&t=NmZjYTNhOGQ5MWFkYzdjODA1NThlZTU0Y2NkMWJmNTkwMGVkNThhNyx6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

> _I’ve been ripped down the middle_
> 
> _And I’m heading for a fall_
> 
> _The devil’s in the kitchen_
> 
> _And my hands been idle too long_
> 
> _Blood is thicker_
> 
> _Than the water I’m running from_
> 
> _I’d be the wayward love_
> 
> _If I wasn’t too proud for home_
> 
> _Ooo, ooo_
> 
> _I fell in love with the men_
> 
> _And the wine on my tongue_
> 
> _The angel on my right_
> 
> _Went quiet long ago_  

“But we _all_ wear masks. It doesn’t matter if it’s by our own donning or not, we still wear them, even if it’s nothing more than to simply hide behind them. The intellectual cowers under the power of his own mind. The writer is just a servant to their own words. And even the actor, who pretends to be everyone _but himself_ , is just a slave to his own face.” He had been rattling on and on while she was scooping the remainder of their shared nachos into a takeaway container. There were only scraps left, but she was dead set on getting every last crumb into the box and he had to resist laughing at her determination.

“Like a slave to beauty standards.” She agreed with his statements, but in a strange way. He couldn’t even remember how they had gotten on this topic, but the conversation was flowing nicely. Unlike the other night, she was more than happy to debate him, with every ounce of candor possible, and he loved it.

“Well, you’re a _slave_ to it only if you _choose_ to be.”

“Oh that’s not right at all.” She clipped the little cardboard box shut and picked up her wine glass again. “I’m a slave to it because society dictates I have to be. That’s my worth.”

“Society can _try_ to dictate your worth to you, but whether or not you _submit_ to that edict is entirely up to you.” He countered. “Do you wish to be just _a toy for the masses_ or would you rather be something _unique and interesting_?”

“And _ugly_.”

“As cliche as it likely sounds, beauty _really_ is in the eye of the beholder.” Alex contested. He wasn’t just saying this. He felt it. He _knew_ it was true. “Just as monstrosity is as well. Over time, there have been such massive shifts in beauty standards.” He wasn’t a historian, yet he _knew_ this to be true. “It ebbs and flows.” 

“But let me ask you something.” She leaned forward as he polished off his glass of red. “How many monsters did we see today were women?”

Hmmm. It was a fair point actually. It _really_ was. From the dozens that were there, he could think of only two and as she had already pointed out, Frankenstein’s Monster’s bride was _hardly_ monstrous. Still conventionally attractive, though a bit _strange_ , she was hardly a good example of a _monstrous_ woman. The only other one that he could think of was _The Angel of Death_. But even that monster was actually portrayed by a _man_. A conventionally unattractive woman would not have even been allowed to play even _that role_.

_Would she?_

She carried on. “I still think that there is nothing more monstrous in our society than an _unattractive woman_.” She laughed, but it was entirely without humour. “She is a creature, _so horrible and so hideous_ , that even Hollywood itself fears to make any movies with her in them.” 

“Yeah well … Modern standards are _fucked_ right now.” Should he apologize for cursing? Should he chastise himself? Eh. _Fuck it_. “Utter rubbish. And honestly, they have been before. It’ll change. I’ve no doubt we’ll _evolve_ passed this … _misstep_.” He wasn’t a historian, yet he _knew_ this to be true. “Women stopped binding their feet. They stopped putting belladonna in their eyes. History is _riddled_ with examples of feminine body modification for the sake of ‘ _beauty_ ’.” He quoted the word in the air with his fingers. “And I’ve no doubt that eventually they will stop mutilating their bodies with all of this … _modern surgery_.”

“No doubt, huh?” She clearly didn’t buy it. “You have more _hope_ in the human race than I do.”

“Perhaps so.”

She drank. “So, what’s _monstrous_ to you then, _Mister_ Quin?”

“Hmmm.” He hadn’t really ever thought about that. What would be the point of it? “I don’t feel there is _anything_ truly _ugly_ in this world. I think everything holds some type of value, some kind of worth. But, if you still demand an answer, then permit me a more _abstract_ definition of the word. I find there is no force in this world as daunting, frightening, or _monstrous_ as _submission_.”

“Submission?” She repeated the word with curiosity. He answer seemed to both intrigue and confuse her. “So, what then? You think _dominance_ is _beautiful_?”

“Good lord, no. You misunderstand.” He grinned and licked his lips. “Dominance is _not_ the opposite of submission. _Defiance_ is.” She watched him carefully and he leaned forward ever-so-slightly. “And there is no greater _beauty_ in this entire world than **_defiance_** itself.”

“How so?”

“It is the force that builds nations and breaks tyrannies. It is the drive that pushes progress, and fights against destruction. This world would have been _nothing_ without it. It is the thing that _cannot_ be controlled … within each of us.”

“ _Defiance_.” Repeating the word, she swirled the red liquid in her own glass, polishing it off with one final gulp before she tipped the rest of the bottle to refill herself. “I like that. I like that _a lot_ actually.” Her eyes briefly glanced to his before she tore them back down. It was clear she didn’t like looking at him. All day, any time their eyes met, she always broke away.

Why didn’t she like looking at him? It bothered him so very much now. “But …” She laughed. “I’m not so sure _Adam_ and _Eve_ would agree with you. Their defiance made them outcasts. We would have been _safe_ in the _garden_.”

“But don’t you see? Even if _that_ story were true …” He was an atheist, after all. “Then I would argue that _her_ defiance was actually the very start of our humanity. Of our _freedom_.”

“But …” She countered. “Isn’t ignorance bliss?”

“Hardly.” His voice was firm and full of conviction. “I would choose _freedom_ over _ignorance_ … _without hesitation_.”

She took it in and he could see her mulling it over. When she was done, she locked onto his gaze, unafraid of it now, completely unafraid of his eyes now. “You seem like a good guy, **_Alex_**. I’m sorry you wound up here.”

She _finally_ used his proper name and though he had been urging her to do so all day, now that she had, he absolutely _hated_ it.

_Good lord, Alex. Make up your bloody mind._

“What …” Something itched at his mind. Was it her words or was it how she delivered them? “What do you mean by that? Why on Earth should _you_ be sorry?”

She ignored his question entirely. “Do you believe in redemption, _Mister_ Quin?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in his answer. He _had_ to believe in it. He had to _hope_ for it. _That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? In New York, that is._ “I do.”

“That was a fast answer.”

“Well, it was an easy question.” He nearly whispered the words. His shame was ripe in them but he never looked away as he spoke. It was almost a confession, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve done … _regrettable things_.”

“I’m pretty sure …” She laughed once, but it was dry and lacked all humour. “We’ve _all_ done _regrettable things_.”

“Yes. And that’s what makes us all …” He paused. He wasn’t sure why. Something itched at him, but he persevered, forcing the word forth from his lips. _Forcing_ it from his lips. “ ** _Human_**.”

“Human.” She chuckled the word.

“Well, I suppose. _Some_ more than others.” He knew it was rude to ask. He knew it wasn’t his place, but his apprehension didn’t hold him back. “But tell me, _Elaine_ … what is it that _you_ regret _so very terribly_?”

“I … Nothing.”

If she didn’t wish to discuss it, he had absolutely no doubt that she would have just shot the conversation down already, so he pressed a bit. “We all have _pasts_.” He smiled, shrugging innocently as he _hoped_ she might look up to see his understanding grin, but she remained as she was, her head tilted down and her eyes away from him. “But we also all have _futures_. While one might influence the other, it doesn’t need to _dictate_ it.”

“Hmm.” Her lips pursed at his words. “So, what do _you_ regret, _Mister_ Quin?”

“I’ve made _bad_ decisions in the past. Decisions that nearly _cost_ me … _everything_.”

She nodded. “Everything.” She seemed to agree, but she didn’t accept his simple explanation. “So why did you make those decisions then?”

“Poor judgement.”

“That’s it? No reason behind them? No … _purpose_ to them?”

“I thought I wanted something that …” Why was this so hard to explain? Why was this so hard to admit? “I thought I felt something that … _wasn’t worth the cost_.”

“The cost?” She asked, but answered her own question immediately. “ _Everything_?”

“Yes. Everything.”

“But you sit here and you clearly regret … you clearly _long_ … for something …” She was actually staring at him and he had just noticed. He had no idea how long either. He was been staring at the table, distracted by the feeling of _exposure_ as her words pried at him. “How can it be _everything_ , when it seems like you gave up _something_?”

She was projecting and he accepted this, because she wasn’t _wrong_. “What you speak of _is_ desire. Nothing _more_.” He hadn’t actually thought of it like that, but it mattered not. If that something had been so important to him, then wouldn’t he at least _remember_ it … her … clearly? Was it not just a figment of his lust, a lingering aspect of his middle aging? What he had done had been out of nothing more than pure selfishness. “I do not think one can have _everything_ one desires all at once, it is …” He hesitated. “I am not sure how to describe it.”

“Like _having_ your cake and _eating_ it too?”

“Yes.” He laughed at the simplistic comparison. “Exactly.”

“Well.” She stood and in a flurry, she was moving. He hadn’t expected the sudden movement. Had he said something wrong _again_? They had been having a nice time, but now … She still had half of her beverage left, but she seemed to be done with him all at once. “I wish you the best of luck with your … _everything_ , _Mister_ Quin.”

“Please.” She was fast, but not fast enough and his hand was out, gripping her arm before she could flee from him. “Why do you _hate_ me?”

“ _Hate you_?” It was half-laugh, half-question and though she tried to tug from his grip, he held her snuggly. “I don’t–”

“Since the first moment we met, you have been … unpleasant with me.” He didn’t wish to sound desperate or angry. He just sought understanding, pleading that very fact with his blue eyes. “Why do you _dislike_ me so?”

“No … I …” His suddenly question struck her off guard. “I’m sorry. I … You … It’s _not_ you.”

“Then what is it?” He sighed. “What did I do? How do I _fix_ it?”

The shame painted across her face was obvious and he released his grip. If she wished to flee from him, he would permit it. He would not stop her again because the pain it was inflicting was clear. “You _remind_ me of someone.”

“ _Someone_?”

“He …” She stopped and the pain that contorted across her face pushed down on his chest, but he couldn’t help but push her a bit further.

“He …” He needed to know. He _needed_ to know. “ _hurt_ you?”

“Yeah, he did.” In this moment, he regretted pushing. His curiosity wasn’t worth the agony he was inflicting. “ _He died_.”

She fled from the confession and was gone. Alexander Quin took a deep breath and stared at the table as he took in her words, digesting them slowly as the motivation behind her off-putting behaviour became painfully clear to him.

 _Damnation_.

The bill was already paid and he followed quickly, jogging up behind her as she sped walk from the building, following the sidewalk into the tube entrance.

“And what about _you_?” He wasn’t about to let the conversation end that abruptly. “Do you believe in _redemption_?”

“I think …” She pulled her jacket shut across her chest, fiddling with the takeout box in her hands. “I think some things _can’t_ be forgiven.”

“No.” He shook his head as he matched her pace and walked side by side with her. “That’s _wrong_.”

“Your opinion I guess.” She shrugged. “But I don’t think so. Some things …”

“But everyone falters. Everyone stumbles. Making mistakes is how we learn. If there was no way to pull one’s self back up, then the world would already be covered in _darkness_.”

“I’m not saying people _can’t_ be forgiven.” There was some kind of history here. He could feel it. What on Earth could she feel _so ashamed_ of? “Just not _everyone_. Just not _everything_.”

“We have to be allowed to stumble. In fact, we have to _allow_ ourselves to stumble.” He countered. He didn’t agree with that at all.

“You love to argue, don’t you?”

“Debate.” He correctly her though she was _clearly_ right. But she knew this about him already, didn’t she? “No soul is _without fault_. No soul is _infallible_. No single person is morally or ethically perfect and just. Besides, how boring would that be?”

She laughed and he could hear the disbelief in it.

“Do I amuse you?” He was slightly hurt by this. “You think me funny?”

“No.” She laughed again. “I’m not laughing _at_ you. It’s just …” She paused and he was grateful he had gotten a genuine smile out of her yet again. “You’re such an _optimist_. It’s just … it’s not what I was expecting.”

“Optimist? Oh dear lord, no. I’m a realist.” They stepped down the steps and into the belly of the underground. “I just believe that we all must do the best we can with what we are given.” He swiped his card at the machine and they approached the first leg of their trip back home. “In my experience, it’s those who fail … those who allow themselves the room to fail … who tend to be the most trustworthy.”

It was far more crowded than it had been this morning and he glanced at the time. Rush hour was going to start soon. “ _Oh shit_.” Good lord, his language was terrible today, but in all honesty, he quite enjoyed letting go. “It’s nearly _rush_ hour.” He really should have been home an hour ago. Sarah would likely be _waiting_ for him now and he’d completely _forgotten_ about dinner.

 _Damnation_.

The train arrived and they boarded it. There were no available seats and though she looked around at them, no one _offered_ their seat to her this time.

“I guess your _superpower_ isn’t working, is it?” Chuckling, he meant it purely as jest, but the look of that fell across her face was absolute disappointment and his words caused him immediate regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“No.” She turned away from him, looking down to the ground. “I guess it won’t anymore.”

“Eh.” He shrugged, nudging her shoulder with his elbow. “Their loss.” Her eyebrow raised in disbelief, but she could only smile as his face was utterly genuine. She believed his words.

* * *

 

They just needed to switches lines now but she turned the wrong way down the corridor. That was the way to the street-side exit, not the connection to the other tracks.

“Oy!” He called out. “This way!” Did she not know her own city as well as he? “This way!”

“Go on without me.” She waved him off as she sped along, her short legs shuffling with hurried intent. “I gotta drop something off first.”

He paused and stared down the _right_ corridor and then looked back at her as she got farther and farther away from him. Glancing at his watch, he cursed. “ _Damnation_.” He _needed_ to get home. He had responsibilities that he needed to … He sprinted after her. “Fuck it.”

_Language, Alex. Language._

As she neared the step that led up to the street, there was an overly tall, overly hairy man, screaming and swinging his arms wildly on the right side of the massive corridor. It was impossible to tell his race from the filth that covered his skin and his hair was a matted mess of brown and gray. Instinctively, Alex stepped to the other side to avoid him, but it seemed as if she was heading straight towards the mad man.

“THE END IS NIGH!” The smelly man bellowed, screaming at passersby. “THIS IS HELL! DON’T YOU FEEL IT! The devil’s EVER PRESENT eye is watching us! His minions are ALL AROUND US! We are in PURGATORIUM! DO YOU NOT FEEL IT! You are all blind, but I am a prophet of the Lord and he speaks to me even now! I hear his voice. It carries on the wind we breath! He speaks to me! And I _see_ everything. I see beyond your walls of filth and degradation! You are all damned!”

The man spied Elaine approaching and he turned to face her as Alex cringed, ready to fling himself into action. Although, he really wasn’t sure what kind of _action_ a former book editor might be able to provide.

“ ** _My angel!_** It’s YOU! It’s … really you!” He hopped towards her, placing a hand on each side of her biceps as he hugged her tightly. “I thought you would have _fallen_ by now. What are you waiting for?” Alex resisted every urge to thrust the dirty and crazy man away from her, but she smiled and welcomed his touch, thrusting the take-away container towards him. “What have you brought me today, my beautiful _special_ angel?”

“Nachos.” She snorted and he took the box greedily, sneaking a peak in it before he crouched and hid it in his bag of stuff. “I ate most of them already though, sorry. Actually …” She grinned and flicked her head back towards Alex. “He ate most of them.”

“He? He’s not supposed to be here.” He directed his gaze towards Alex. “ _You’re_ not supposed to be here. They’re watching you. _She’s watching you_. She **_fears_** you.” The man squinted at him and Alex shifted in his stance. The crazy eyes caught him off guard and he swallowed hard.

“She?” Alex pinched his brows, his curiosity winning over his logic. Just let it go. Just let it go. “Who’s _she_?”

“ _The Maiden_.” The man stepped forward and poked his chest. “She thinks herself our warden, but she’s a prisoner just same.”

“Ok, Danny. I’m sorry.” Coming to his rescue, Elaine tugged on Alex’s arm, trying to urge him back into the direction from which they came. “But we gotta go. See you tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t trust your memories.” The raggedy man said again and Alex got a very good look at his rich brown eyes as he leaned within inches of his face. Elaine was already several steps away, already heading back to the platform beneath, but the man reached out, firmly grabbing Alex’s forearm, as he tapped on his own temple. “Trust _only_ emotions, _centurion_. That is the _only_ thing they can’t control. That is the _only_ thing they can’t rewrite.”

“What did you just say?” Alex swallowed and his body tensed with prickly hair. “What did you just call me?”

“They come in the quiet, with the mind fleas, prodding little fallen fire beasts. They rework your mind, cut it with the divine scalpel, piece it back together like pie. Little spiders of sin. Weavers of decay.” The man poked his chest again, this time directly over his heart. “Trust _only_ this. For our _hearts_ … cannot be enslaved.”

“Alex!” She called to him and he pulled himself away from the man. The crazy words dancing in his mind. “Come on!”

He skipped to catch up to her, which was easy with his long legs compared to her quite short ones. “What did he call me?” He asked her as they escaped.

“ _I LIKE THE NEW LOOK!_ ” The man called after her as they made their way back to the platform to catch their final car home. “Just like your grandmother!”

“Sorry. I didn’t hear him. We gotta go if we’re gonna beat the rush.”

As they walked away from the man who had already gone back to his ranting and raving, Alex smiled at her sideways and eventually she commented on it, her cheeks flushing with heat as his grin embarrassed her. “What?”

“Quite charitable of you.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“I like him.”

“He’s mad.”

“He’s nice to me.”

“He’s crazy.” Alex reiterated. “You should be careful.”

“He’s …” She took a deep breath as their train slowed to a stop before them. “Real. He makes me feel … _normal_. Besides, I don’t think he’s _CrAzY_ at all.” Her flared her nostril at the word, clearly disliking intensely.

“Oh good lord.” He chortled, approaching the opening doors. “Don’t tell me you are one of those _conspiracy nuts_ too.”

“Oh no. Of course not.” Her grin turned less playful and more devilish as they entered the train and she looked up at him. “ _It’s only a conspiracy if it’s not actually_ **_real_**.”

 

* * *

 

**[The Scientist - Coldplay](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F75JFxkI2RXiU7L9VXzMkle&t=YTUyMTE0ZTg1NjEzYTI1M2ZjNDQ4OTYwMDNhNDc3ZmRiZjg5MmFmZix6ZFNWbmdhMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172743307808%2Fchapter-124-damnation&m=1) **

> _Come up to meet you_
> 
> _Tell you I’m sorry_
> 
> _You don’t know how lovely you are_
> 
> _I had to find you_
> 
> _Tell you I need you_
> 
> _Tell you I set you apart_

More people packed into the car and as they began to get pushed around, he watched her whip around as a skinny man in his twenties brushed up against her.

“Hey! Watch your hands, asshole!” She bit at the man, but Alex was already between them. He wasn’t even sure how he had moved so quickly, but now he was face to face with the male of similar height as he stared into his eyes, inches away.

“Can I help you, _pretty boy_?”

He might have just let it go, especially as she pulled on his wrist from behind, but the man laughed under his nasty breath and Alex’s upper lip curled up annoyance as he bared his teeth. What happened next shocked even him, as a guttural and rattling growl erupted from his throat.

“Didn’t mean anything, man … it was just an accident.” The man shrieked back slightly and she tugged on his wrist again as another growl began to rumble.

“Hey … “ She tugged and he relaxed. “It’s OK.” Had she heard him _growl_? Wait, had he really just … _growled_ at that man? He spun and the looked on her face assured him she _did_ in fact hear it..

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I _hate_ the tube.” Using his height to their advantage, he spied an open spot close to the other side of the carriage and his finger found her hand, interweaving into her grip as he pulled her through the mass of people. She was so _tiny_ in their mass. “Here … over here.”

Once they were against the wall, he placed a palm on either side of her against the metal door, lodging himself solid and trying to hold his ground from squishing her further. There was something oddly familiar with all of this … As people entered, they pushed and he eventually gave slightly to their pressure, pressing against her, crushing her curves against the bottom of his ribs.

_Oh gods._

“ _Shit_.” He whispered down to her and she angled her head up but found him incredibly close and she let her head hang low again. “Sorry.” He really wasn’t sorry. He _really_ wasn’t.

“It’s ok.”

He heard the doors on the other side of the cabin close and the car began to move causing all the bodies within to sway in unison against each other, rocking back and forth with the vehicle’s movements. As they neared the first curve in the tracks, she stumbled slightly in her stance and he might have offered a hand to steady her, but she grabbed onto his sides for support. He breathed deeply as her fingers gripped his flesh.

“Sorry.” It seems it was her turn to apologize and it sounded as disingenuous as his had been, but he accepted it the same way she had accepted his.

“It’s ok.”

He was so close to her now and as he tilted his head down, his nose was less than an inch away from her hairline and when he breathed her in deeply. He mulled over the scent with closed eyes. It was a delightfully strange shampoo, whatever it was. Earthy, musky, with hints of liquorice. His body lunged forward as the car bumped violently and his mouth pressed against her skin. It was quite unintentional but he loved it nonetheless.

He murmured slightly. “ _Mmmmm._ ”

God, she smelled like …

 _Heaven_.

Her body. Her hands. Her warmth. Her aroma. The experience washed over him in waves and his body _reacted_ and his blood pumped. His body … _reacted_.

“Oh … _fuck_.” It was a whimper, delivered under his breath and he hoped it was too soft for her to hear. His body _reacted_ even more as something he thought was lost revived within him and he felt alive again.

_Shit._

Why now? Why _right_ now? There was no room to pull away. There was _nowhere_ to go and she pressed her forehead against his sternum and her hands tightened on his side, digging her nails it into him.

He glanced at the marquee sign and counted the stations left before their arrival. One more stop. Just … one more stop, just … keep it together, keep it toge – the car jolted and the bodies behind him thrust him further against her. He should have wedged himself solid, but he let himself move. He let himself _brush_ against her upper hip.

_F U C K._

He was half embarrassed but half relieved. He _wasn’t_ broken. He _wasn’t_ lacking. He doubted he had ever been, in fact. His conscious mind hoped she didn’t _feel_ him, but a sudden gasp at his hardness made him doubt that assumption. And as her grip on his sides tightened even more, he doubted it further.

Thundering with incredible intent, his heart was beating as hard as it had several nights before, though this wasn’t from a panic attack. This time it was pure excitement galloping through his veins as his adrenaline began to spike and their bodies melted together.

He half expected her to pull away, but instead she _pulled_ him closer and he gave in, leaning his body against her small frame as he moved his left forearm above her head and his right hand approached her hidden face. There was little hesitation in his movement, as his index finger touched the bottom of her jaw, angling her face up … _to see him_.

Slowly, he tilted her chin and when her eyes had met his, he moved his index finger to the fine lines between her eyebrows, stroking the tip of his finger down _the lines_ gently. He kept the touch going as he grazed across the bridge her nose and down its side, tracing _the spots_ across her cheek, starting just below her tear ducts and angling downward across her cheek.

His touch continued down to the her neck and his finger stopped on a discolored mark there. A tiny and almost invisible slit of color on her skin. He seemed almost mesmerized by it but she swallowed hard and his attention was draw back to her eyes, though his touch would continue to linger on that _mark_.

“Sorry.” He felt compelled to apologize, but he had no idea why.

“No apologies.”

_Spot on._

His hand fell away from the mark limply, but his eyes were transfixed on her lower lip and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, pinning her head between his and the metal of the door. Even if she wished it, which he knew she didn’t, there would be no escape.

He paused there, breathing her again _and again_ , his eyes rolling backwards into his head as he pinched them shut and it wasn’t until he opened them again that he realized she had closed hers as well.

She held him tight with her left hand, but her right was now palm down across his chest and he was certain she could feel his heart thundering with frantic madness and he leaned in further, but just until the tip of his much larger nose brushed the end of her tiny one. He paused here, gazing into her irises and he tried to gauge what her reaction might be to his obvious next intention. Unsure of what to make from her silence or her trembling body, he moved his nose across hers again. One stroke. Two stroke. _Three_.

Her scent was everywhere and as he approached her lips, it’s aroma wafted off her breath and caused him to flinch slightly, twitching once as he angled his mouth closer to hers. Never moving his forehead from her, never moving his nose form hers, he leaned in, hoping she wouldn’t push him away, knowing that she wouldn’t …

They were both entirely lost in this moment, so much so in fact that they had forgotten the exit for _their_ stop would be on _their_ side of the car. His lips would have met hers, had the door behind her not suddenly opened. They tumbled out of the car, nearly falling over each other as everyone rushed passed them. He might have even fallen on top of her, but he caught himself, grabbing her wrist as he prevented her from falling backwards to the ground.

“Ooooof!” She cringed and they moved with the crowd as elegantly as possible so that they wouldn’t be trampled.

 

* * *

 

They rode the elevator up without a word. Obviously, she was just as shocked as he was at what nearly occurred and though they couldn’t bear to leave each other sides, they also couldn’t bear to look at each other, nor speak at all. As they parted the lift on the twenty seventh floor, they walked down the hallway in continuing silence.

They approached his door and he paused at it, watching her take several steps before she spun, a goofy smirk plastered across her face as she spoke to him nervously for the first time since the _near_ incident.

“Do you …” She swallowed hard. “Want another glass of wine? I actually _just_ opened a bottle of cab this morning, and …”

“Drinking quite early, are you?” He jested, but only hoping to stamp out the tension rich in the air surrounding them both.

“Yeah well … It was a _rough_ morning. My neighbor was a _jerk_.” She met his eyes and then looked away. “ _Don’t judge me_.’

A palpable moment of tension passed and he jolted himself from even the thought of saying yes. Everything that had occurred had rocked him quite a bit. He knew better. In fact, he had _promised_ so much better. And what she said about her _someone_ , he hated himself so much in this moment. “I …” He looked at his door and back at her. “I really shouldn’t. Sarah’s home and–”

“Oh.” She nodded and laughed. It was a strange laugh, directed at herself more than him. “Right. I forgot. Yeah. Sorry. I have to go to class tonight anyways. I don’t think Ron would like it if I showed up _drunk_.”

 _Hmmm._ Ron. Alex’s nostrils flared slightly. _Ron_.

Embarrassed and dejected, she turned and started to walk to her own door.

“Maybe … another time?” He called out as she dug her keys out and unlocked her deadbolt. “Rain check?”

She answered without a word. She answered by shutting the door, with more force that necessary He stared at the numbers on it for a good thirty seconds before he shook his head. _This is for the best. He had made promises._ But he was frustrated with everything right now and it didn’t help when he slid his key into the slot that the key _refused_ to turn.

“Bloody lock.” He grunted through clenched teeth and tried again. Then he tried again. And again. It normally gave him trouble, but this was not even moving. He resorted to pounding on the door in frustration and no one answered. “Sarah!” He called out again _and nothing_. He rang the doorbell and waited. _Nothing_. “What the hell!?” Where the hell was she?!

 _Patience_. He urged himself. _Patience_. He tried the lock again and it was the same. Unmoving. Broken. He might have kicked the door next but he stepped back from it and took a deep breath, pulling his phone out and opening the ‘Welcome to the Building’ email he had received last week.

He opened the Excel document sent to him labelled ‘Useful Phone Numbers’ and he scrolled through the long list looking for an entry that implied “Maintenance”. He paused briefly on the listing of _2719_ and he stared at the number. No. “Focus, Alex.” He scrolled until the maintenance number was visible and he tapped it.

The phone rang three times before a fragile but firm voice answered. “Yes?”

“Umm … Hello?” He cringed. He recognized the voice. “I’m looking for building maintenance.”

There was a rigid chuckle. “2718? Is that you?”

“Umm … yes. I was wondering if you might be able to suggest a _Locksmith_? I’m having trouble with my door.”

“Are you in the building?” Cora questioned and he hesitated to answer. He could lie … he could say no. He could ..

“Yes.”

“I do so hate these _voice boxes_.” Voice boxes? “Come and _see me proper_.” And there was a click and then silence.

“Hello?” He said, hoping she didn’t hang up. “Hello?” He _really_ didn’t wish to have to see her. He considered calling again and actually thought it best, but the phone rang and _rang and rang_. “Ugh …” Shoving the device back into his pocket, he frowned down the hallway, staring toward the direction of the old woman as he clenched his jaw. “ _Bitch_.”

This time, he did kick the door. Once and with pure aggravation. Then he walked down the hallway to find the apartment labelled _2700_.

 

* * *

##  **“If you judge yourself and others by the standards of perfection _it’s infinite and unending torture_.”**

##   **\- Guillermo del Toro**

 

 

> _Direct quotes from this chapter are from Guillermo del Toro himself or paying direct homage to his exhibit: **At Home With Monsters**._
> 
> _As always, Rupert gifs lovingly augmented and manip’d from[@5disilk](https://tmblr.co/m-QqWBvbsFrbeh5otNgbkwA)_


	110. Fan Art - Mea Est

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feast your hungry eyes on a collaboration art made with my good friend QuintusSertorius.tumblr.com.
> 
> We hope you fully enjoy ... and blush. This is for fandom ADULTS only. Not intended for the immature. #NoShame See FULL post here: <http://quintussertorius.tumblr.com/post/172847392430/mea-est-dawn-quintus-straining-for>

 

**MEA EST | Dawn & Quintus, [Straining for Originality](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F570832&t=ZWNhNTQzOGQ3ZjNiYTY4ODIyN2RmYzBhNmQ4OTdkMDI0ODM2ZjQ0YSxhZm1nT0JaUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AKT78eagObWHrldV9lPAQVg&p=https%3A%2F%2F5thinvictus.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172847580112%2Fmea-est&m=0) Imagery.** 

> _“… Fuck …” She gasped at one point and his hand found its way to the back of her head, cupping it to protect it from hitting against the wall and he increased his intensity in every way._
> 
> _“[Mea est.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FMine.&t=NDliZjMwMmU5MzExNDQ2OWIwOWFiZmZkY2I4Yjg5MDQyNWUxNTZhZCxhZm1nT0JaUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AKT78eagObWHrldV9lPAQVg&p=https%3A%2F%2F5thinvictus.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172847580112%2Fmea-est&m=0)” He chanted with each movement. “[Semper.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FAlways.&t=NmQ4YzIyMTA5NTY0ZjQwNmE2NjBkOTU0N2UyMmJmNmRkODA1MjU5YyxhZm1nT0JaUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AKT78eagObWHrldV9lPAQVg&p=https%3A%2F%2F5thinvictus.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172847580112%2Fmea-est&m=0)”_
> 
> _[ **An Insatiable Ache, Interlude 9** ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F28752644&t=NzlkYmE0OWU0MTFjMTVjMGQyM2MwZjEzN2MzZjcwOWNlMmFjZmJkNSxhZm1nT0JaUw%3D%3D&b=t%3AKT78eagObWHrldV9lPAQVg&p=https%3A%2F%2F5thinvictus.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172847580112%2Fmea-est&m=0) _

"This is what happens when you combine a cold, studying late, chatting with your best friend, and _the longest slow burn fanfic in history_.  I regret nothing, but I do blame [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA) !"

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combating Fandom Infantilization one ridiculously sexy manip at a time …  
> Cheers my good friend! CHEERS!
> 
>   
> 


	111. 12.5 - Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, this chapter has really been puttering along and I apologize for that. I’ve no real excuse for the tardiness of this last one. Was in a bit of a car accident, and it’s been a bit hard to get restarted since that drama.
> 
> I was actually looking forward to writing Hell quite a bit, so I’m more than a little disappointed that my motivation has taken a plunge.
> 
> Heads up. This is turning out to be a seven part Chapter.

**[Glitter & Gold - Barns Courtney](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1Mf27cnAF1Q6Ko83XTM5d1&t=MmRjOTYzNTY5NzA2ZDEzOGNkZjdmMTNkMDgwYTZjMWE3ZjRlM2VlOSx1a01hbXBTWA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173139264503%2Fchapter-125-damnation&m=1) **

> _Do you walk in the valley of kings?_
> 
> _Do you walk in the shadow of men_
> 
> _Who sold their lives to a dream?_
> 
> _Do you ponder the manner of things_
> 
> _In the dark_

It took him awhile to find the apartment as her door was hidden around the corner from the east stairwell. There were no other units down the offshoot and as he rang the doorbell, a chill scampered up and down his spine. Patiently listening for any movement from within, he waited. When he heard nothing, he reached to press the button again, but the door squeaked open and a wrinkled hand ushered him inside.

“Come in. Come in.” She giggled. “Don’t be shy now.”

The space was vast, far larger than he even thought possible given the size of the building and the number of other units on the same floor. It seemed unnatural and impossible. The ceilings were at least twice as high as his and a small gasp escaped him as he swung his head around.

He was expecting a cozy space occupied by a crazy cat lady. He was expecting a pungent smell and to be inundated with knick knacks and plastic covered furniture, but instead, he was met with _plants_ , flowers and vegetation of all sorts. Small trees in large containers stretched nearly to the ceiling and large bushes in small pots littered the area. Flowers, hanging plants, and vines covered every inch of the space and he felt like he was in a _garden_ rather than an apartment.

Everything that wasn’t green or brown or some hue of natural beauty, was white or off-white. The walls, the floors, the cabinets. Rosemary, lilac, lavender, rose, wildflowers, sage … He was hit with an overabundance of smells as he followed her across the space to what he assumed was the kitchen, as there was a sink and stove, but _nothing_ else. Not even a microwave.

“Locked yourself out of your apartment, have you?”

“No.” He attempted to correct her. “The lock is _broken_.”

“Well …” She hummed to herself. “You _locked_ your door and now you can’t get back into your apartment because it is locked, yes? Sounds to me like _you_ locked yourself out then.”

Hmmm. Semantics. _Just agree_. Perhaps she will let him go faster … “I suppose so. Yes. You’re right.”

She giggled and he found it just as unnerving as the first time they met. She was such an odd thing. He watched her fish a small silver kettle from one of the few lower cabinets and begin the process of filling it up. She was making no motion to help him with his problem at all. “Can you help me, or should I just call a locksmith myself?”

“Always in a _rush_ , aren’t you?” She put the pot on the stove and turned it on. “Tea first.”

“I’m very sorry but I really don’t have time for tea.” He sighed.

“You’re _English_.” She squinted at him with suspicion. “ _Aren’t you_?”

“Yes, of course.” Of course he was … what a daft question, wasn’t it? “But–”

“Then you _always_ have time for tea. Besides … _all we have now is time_.” Turning, she returned to the cabinet, this time reaching overhead and grunted as she stretched as far as her tiny, _frail_ figure would allow. She grunted again as her wrinkled hand struggled for the mugs on the top shelf and Alex stepped forward, taking on the gentlemanly responsibility of retrieving them for her.

“Please. Allow me.” He set them down on the counter quickly, but it was already too late and he regretted stepping within her reach as she didn’t hesitate to grab his upper arm and pinch it with her needle fingers.

“Thank you, _Quentin_.” She purred, her voice rich with delight over his physique. “We don’t normally get such … _strong individuals_ here.”

“It’s _Alex_.” He corrected her, but he knew she already knew his name. “You mean in this _building_?”

“The building. Ah yes. _Alex_. Quite right … _isn’t it_?” She smiled as the kettle began to whistle behind them. That was _very_ fast, wasn’t it? “ _Green_ or _black_ tea?”

“Black, please.”

Drawing upon all of his patience, he watched her shuffle around slowly, dropping the tea bags into the cup and pouring the boiling water over it as her arm shook with the weight of the kettle. She seemed so fragile and weak, but something tickled his mind, urging him that _that_ was not the case at all and his body hair stood up on end. She was … _old_ and …

It was almost as if she _knew_ of his sudden apprehension and she turned to him, handing him one of the cups. “Don’t worry, _pet_. I _don’t usually_ bite.”

“I should hope not.” He quipped at her attempted flirtation. “Or I shan’t be coming back then.”

Giggling, she bobbed her head back and forth. The motion seemed inhuman but Alex feigned a smile for her anyways. “Would you like some _fruit_?”

“Oh no. I’m not hungry.”

“Are you certain? I’ve some oranges, apples, and peaches.” He really wasn’t hungry and he shook his head again. “Or a _pomegranate_ perhaps?”

“No. Really. I just ate actually. Thank you though.”

“Hmmm. Very well …” She led the way to the other side of the space and eased down into a white recliner, waving at him to take a position on the white loveseat opposite it.

The uncomfortable silence only lasted a second and her hungry stare pushed him to speak first. “It’s very impressive.”

“What is that?”

“Your plants.” He feigned a smile. “You’ve quite the _green thumb_.”

“Oh yes.” She purred, sipping carefully. “I’ve always have. It is how I was _made_.”

“Made?” _Good lord_. She was an odd bird indeed. “I take it you’re _religious_?”

“Hmmm.” Her voice cracked as she mulled over his question and then ignored it fully. “Are _you_ a religious man, _Quinman_?”

“No. Absolutely not.” His answer was immediate and she raised an eyebrow at the vigor of it. “I find the very thought of it as nothing more than _mental enslavement_.”

“Yes, it is. Very good. _Very good_.” She chuckled heartily at his words, her mouth seemed to unhinge as she cackled and then looked him over with fascination. “It is just a method to tap in and control man’s most spoiled treasure … _himself_.”

“Ah …” He probably shouldn’t press for _actual_ conversation, but he couldn’t help himself. “So you’re more of an objectivist then.”

“Objectivist?” She pondered over the word for a moment. “Well, if you mean, do I believe man is driven by his innate selfish nature alone, then yes. Very much so.”

“It’s an interesting approach but I think it’s rather simplistic.” He shrugged. “Morality is far more complicated than just pure … _selfishness_.”

“But, you are a _heroic being_ , with your own happiness as the purpose of your life. In fact, _your happiness_ is the very thing that _drives_ you even now, isn’t that right?” Her head bobbed back and forth again as she spoke. “Is that not exactly why _you_ are here, _Quarterman_?”

“I am _here_ …” He paused, tilting his head towards her, the itch in his mind making him wish that he could reach inside of his own skull to scratch it. “I am here for the happiness of _my family_ , not my own. I am here … because my wife is incredible at what she does and we received an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

“Really? I stand corrected. Quite selfless of you then, isn’t it?” She took a deep breath and smiled wide. “And very good for her. Quite proud, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Yes?”

He tilted his head towards her. Did he not just say he was? Did he really need to repeat himself? But the question itself itched at his mind and he tilted his head the other direction, nearly twitching as he did. “Yes. _Of course_.”

“Because you _know_ it, _Mister Quin_?” Cora leaned forward, biting into her lower lip as her white hair fell around her oval face. She stared at him with growing curiosity, her wrinkled brow curled with intensity. “Or because you _feel_ it, _pet_?”

Those questions. They were so simple. So easy … _So_ … Was _this_ the itch he had been feeling? Was it … _doubt_? The homeless man’s words rushed back across the forefront of his mind as her eyes turned beady and determined: _Trust your heart_.

“I should be going now.”

“But …” Leaning back, she relaxed in the chair, arching her right eyebrow high as she sipped again. “You haven’t even _touched_ your tea yet.”

It was true. He had been holding it but he hadn’t even _looked_ at it yet. The smell was pleasant, wafting up from the container. Sweet and floral but when he looked down into the dark amber liquid, what he saw would have made any normal man jolt, but he remained completely calm as something rumbled across his mind. He thought it was his own voice, but that wasn’t exactly true. It was deep, familiar, and somewhat soothing. There was a distinct vibration that danced on the very edge of its tone. 

> _Remain calm. She is testing us._

It was tea, but it really wasn’t. The mass moved and flowed as if it was a fluid, but it wasn’t and he could see it clearly, not even needing to squint to spy the nearly microscopic _things_ that filled his cup. He tilted it back and forth and they all moved in perfect unison. 

> _Give nothing away. Focus._

In fact, they looked like miniature machines. Machines that resembled _fleas_ , but so tiny and dense that they were nearly indistinguishable from liquid itself. The memory of the homeless haunted him now, but as the man’s previous words rattled off in his mind, it was that deep and familiar vibrating voice that spoke them this time. 

> _They come in the quiet … with the mind fleas._

“Is it not to your liking, _pet_?” Her words _seemed_ polite, but he doubted that was the intent of them. “As I mentioned, I also have _green_ tea, if it’s more to your liking.” 

> _… rework your mind … piece it back together like pie._

“That’s quite alright.” He blinked at her, feigning ignorance over the entire situation, remaining stoic and calm. Reining in his panic as he enacted perfect control as he glanced down again. “I actually probably shouldn’t have any caffeine right now..” 

> _… spiders of sin … weavers of decay._

He smiled, tearing his attention away from the tiny objects as he met her stare again, successfully repressing the goosebumps that nearly erupted across his body. Alex enacted more control over his body than he even thought possible and his demeanour did not change. He gave _nothing_ away and it was in this instant that everything flickered around them.

 _Everything_ … flickered. As if someone flicked a light switch on and off. In less than a second, it all changed and then reverted. In a fleeting and nearly instant moment, everything around him darkened and died. It was white and then black. Everything that was green and alive, was dead and decayed. And the woman was not a woman at all. Her skin was brown and scaled; her eyes vertical hazel slits. It was less than a blink before everything was exactly as it was before and he fought his body tensing. He fought the urge to touch his head and the voice within assured him again. He fought the impulse to _react_ to it. 

> _She can feel our resistance. She is prodding us. Testing us. She seeks to know how awake we have become so far._

“Oh? But I thought the _English_ loved afternoon tea?”

He smiled at her again. “It’s nearly evening and I’ve been having trouble _sleeping_ lately.”

“Oh. I have some herbal teas as well.” She set her cup on the small table to her right as she began to stand again and his hand flew out to halt her. 

> _Tell her what we_ **_know_** _she wishes to hear but do not lie. She can smell dishonesty, even from us. Appease her. Play this game and play it well. We should not poke this ancient beast …_ **_not quite yet_**.

“Ah, that is quite alright. I’ve really got to get going. I need to get dinner ready for _my family_. _She_ is depending on me.” She? He really should have said _they_ , but that seemed _dishonest_.

“Do you _love_ your family, _Mister Quin_?” Just her eyes flickered this time and he could have sworn there was a twitch that followed the shift of her irises from round to vertical and then back again. _Instantaneous_.

“Very much so.” He beamed. “It’s why I’m here. There’s nothing that I will not do for _her_ and I have much that I need to make up for.”

“ _Hmmm_.” Pleased, she stood and approached him, gravity weighing heavy on her fragile limbs. She took his cup and gripped his hand, pulling him back to the kitchen area. “Come along then. Mustn’t keep you from your _responsibilities_.”

“I appreciate it.” Normally, he would have pulled from her grip. He would have resisted her touch, but he submitted to it and once they were back in the kitchen, she released him as she dug something from a tiny drawer.

“Where did I put that _little thing_.” She rummaged through the contents and finally pulled out a strange and large bronze key. “There it is.”

“A … key?” He shook his head. That key was _not_ going to fit in his deadbolt, but it didn’t matter. The lock was _broken_. “I need a locksmith, actually. The lock is broken.” 

> _We  know the lock is not broken. It never was. She has fabricated the need for this visit._

“I’ll send the handyman by in the morning, but until then … come along.” She led him out of her apartment and down the hallway, shuffling slowly as she went. He was unsure what she might do with the key, but when she slid it into the deadbolt, it gave no resistance to the size and he gasped slightly as she turned it smoothly, the lock clicking as it opened.

“Wait … Do you have a key to …” He wasn’t actually surprised, but the _concern_ was hard to mask. “To _everyone’s_ apartments?” 

> _We know who she is. It is clear. It is obvious._

“This one opens them all … _For emergencies only_.” She assured him, but there was clearly something sinister in her tone. “You know … _for the police and firemen and the like._ ”

“Ah … right.” He spun the knob and the door opened and his heart raced at the chance of finally being free of her, but before he could escape, she had already gripped his arm with her needle fingers.

“Alex … _Alexander_ …” She smiled up at him. “You know it is **_Greek_**. It means _The Defender of Men_.”

“Indeed. It does.”

“Tell me.” She flexed her grip on his bicep and squinted into his eyes with a hunger he had never seen before. “Do you fancy yourself their _protector_ , _pet_.”

“I protect those I love.” He had had enough and he pulled her hand from his arm, grinning devilishly as he brought her white and wrinkled knuckle to his lips. “And I should feel _very_ sorry for anyone who would threaten that.”

“ _Hmmm_.” She _seemed_ to blush at his show of fake affection, though no color was ever visible through her cheeks and she turned to walk away as the voice carried on in his mind. 

> _Do not forget. We know who she is. There is power in that._

He should have let her walk away without another word, but he couldn’t help himself. “Cora is **_Greek_** as well.” 

> _She is not unlike us. She was tricked here, just as we were. She is both_ **_a prisoner_** _and_ **_the warden_**.

“Oh?” She spun. “I had no idea.” She was obviously not as good of a liar as he was. The tiny curl at the right edge of her mouth told him as much. Her tells were subtle, but they were obvious to him.

“Cora. Kore. It means …”

“ _The Maiden_.” She finished his sentence, unpleased by the word, her face grew solemn and sullen. “Clearly … I do not fit the name well, do I? I am _not_ so young anymore.”

“You know what they say … _age is mindset_.” It was a corny saying, but it felt oddly important right now.

“Age is the _punishment_ of time.” She bit back. Her feigned pleasant nature melted away at the mention of her age. 

> _Let her go now. Assure her of our compliance. Assure her of our submission._

“We should like to have you for dinner some time.” He threw the invitation out and she tilted her head at it. “I think you would love to meet _my wife_.”

“Some other time … perhaps.” She chuckled. “When you have more than _cold_ pizza to offer.” How did she know– 

> _She is testing us._

“Smashing idea.” He stepped within and shut the door, resisting the urge to grab his chest as the panic he was suppressing bubbled over, overwhelming every inch of his being. The homeless man had mentioned … _The Maiden_. 

> _Cora. Kore. The Maiden. The Prisoner. We know who she is. Say it._

“No.” He shook his head. That voice. He was going mad. He was quite certain of it now. “No.” 

> _Say it. Accept it. Embrace it._

“No.” 

> _Cora. Περσεφόνη. Goddess of Vegetation. Prisoner of the Underworld._

“ ** _Persephone_**.” Alex fell back against the door, sliding down to a crouched position on the floor, he gripped his head with both hands, rocking slightly back and forth. “This is madness.”

 

> _Keep it together. We cannot delay further. She is depending on us._

“What? What?! Who?” He demanded. “Who is depending on us?” 

> _Libellula. Anisoptera. The Dragonfly._

“No.” Did he know? Would could he? He was going mad. He was … “Who … Who are you?” There was no answer for a number of seconds and then he could have sworn the words no longer came from his mind, but he was hearing the voice coming from elsewhere. 

> _We already know who we are …_

He pushed himself back to his wobbly feet and followed its sound into his bedroom and it spoke again, this time coming from the bathroom.

“ _You_ already know who _I_ am …”

He wasn’t sure what to expect as he approached the archway and what he saw should have terrified him, but it actually had quite the opposite effect. The mirror was exactly as it always was, but he cast no reflection in it. Not even as he stood directly in front of the _thing_ that stood in it before him.

**[The Art of Self Destruction, Part One - Nine Inch Nails](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4vPgj83VyZrWJQ9R5rfYq2&t=MjkyZDUxOGQ1NWQ2ZDZjYTQyOTQxNGMwNzNiMTNiZWY0ZjY4MDg1Zix1a01hbXBTWA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173139264503%2Fchapter-125-damnation&m=1) **

> _I am the voice inside your head_
> 
> _I am the lover in your bed_
> 
> _I am the sex that you provide_
> 
> _I am the hate you try to hide_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_
> 
> _I control you_

He approached it with caution and the _man, the creature_ , watched him carefully, his pale blue eyes never moved from his own. He was clad all in black. His skin was paler than the Maiden’s herself. Strange swirls were carved into the skin of his neck and a femur bone protruding over his right shoulder from the leather harness strapped across his back.

Aside from his sharply tipped ears and his pointy cheekbones, aside from his bald head and his square jaw, Alex saw a remblance in the creature’s features and his body flushed with heat.

“You already know who I am.” He spoke. “ _Say it._ ”

“No.” Alex couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was going mad. He was … “This isn’t possible.”

“Say it. We don’t have time for this … _cowardice_.”

“No. You’re mad.” Wrong word. WRONG WORD, Alex. Don’t do this. Don’t … “I’m … I’m going _mad_ , aren’t I? I’m …” It had been happening _all_ day, hadn’t it? Since the exhibit when she had started to _change_. When he had started to _forget_ things. When he had started to see things.

“What did you say?” The voice came from nowhere and he spun to see Ana standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame to remove her absurdly tall high-heels.

Did she see him? Could she _see_ him? He whipped back to the mirror and was just met with his own reflection again. He breathed a sigh of relief as it was _actually_ him and it mimicked his face and movements as a reflection _should_.

“Who on Earth are you talking to?” She asked again as she pulled the other uncomfortable shoe off and he gulped. _Don’t say it. Don’t say it_. Don’t– The voice cut off his thoughts. 

> _Say it. You fucking coward. Say it._

“No one.” He leaned forward, turning on the cold water so that he might splash himself with it. “It was just. I was talking to …” One more look at himself in the mirror before he submitted to the voice’s demand. Before the reality of the word set itself in stone within his _mind_. “ ** _Myself_**.” 

> _Yes._

 

* * *

 

He took a shower. It wasn’t that he felt dirty as much as he felt _foggy_. He avoided looking into the mirror entirely and he joined his family for dinner at the table afterwards.

“Didn’t get a chance to get to the market _again_ today?”

 _Fuck_.

Passive aggression was ripe in her melodic voice as he slid into the empty chair opposite her without a word and she pushed a plate over to him with a leftover pizza slice on it. It was the _exact_ same slice as he nearly ate nights before. He remembered it’s exact arrangement of pepperoni slices precisely. “So, what did you do today?”

 _Hmmm_. Ignoring the question, he stared down at the food and the undulating tiny machines all over it. No, it wasn’t all over it. In fact, it _was_ the food and he swallowed deeply, cracking his neck to the side slowly, to mask his near twitch. As he reached for the glass of water, he stared down into the clear liquid machines within it. 

> _It’s always in the food. Even the Maiden can attest to that._

“I see you didn’t unpack anything either. Did you happen to get any writing done at all?”

“I …” It was difficult to tear his eyes from the glass, but he did so, meeting hers and feigning a weak smile. Best to not lie. _He was a terrible liar_ after all, though he was doubting that personal criticism more _and more_. “I actually got out today.”

“Really?” She prodded. There was something unusually sinister in her face and he prepared himself for whatever she was about to say. “So … how _was_ the exhibit then?”

Alex blinked. Of all the things he was preparing himself for, _the truth_ was not something he expected and his reaction was full vitriol. Obviously his inner voice could feel the increase of his heart rate. 

> _Calm down._

Sarah piped up, excited by the thought of having someone to discuss it with. “The Monster one? Really? Did you check it out?! What’d you think?”

“What?” His nostrils flared with disgust. “Are you … _spying_ on me?”

“Good lord, _no_.” Ana laughed off the accusation, or at least attempted to. “I was going to borrow your metrocard, mine doesn’t seem to be working anymore and the receipt _fell_ out of your wallet. You were in the shower … I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“Oh.” He took a deep breath, still displeased at his complete lack of privacy. “You could have just asked me. I don’t go looking through _your_ things–”

“My things?” She challenged him. “Since when are we _dividing_ up things between _mine_ and _yours_? Jesus, what has gotten into you lately?” 

> _She seeks to push our buttons. Her goal is antagonization. Do not take the bait._

“Nothing.” He lied. “But _no one_ appreciates unwarranted accusations.”

“What?! Who accused _anyone_ of _anything_?” Her suspicion peaked. “But now I _am_ beginning to think you’re hiding something. What else did you do today?”

“Me? You think _I’m_ hiding things?” He laughed off the statement, attempting to hide his growing anxiety over the line of questioning. He needed to deflect, and only the weakest possible thing came to his mind. “And what about the bloody fags in your boot!?”

Sarah’s mouth dropped agape and her eyes shot wide at _his_ use of language. “Uh …” She mumbled with a mouth full of half chewed pizza. “Language?”

“I …” Ana shook her head and blinked at the accusation and they both ignored the teenager. “Wait … are _you_ spying on _me_ now?”

“I was _unpacking_ your box … per your orders, sir!” 

> _Calm down. This is pointless._

There was a moment of reprieve as everyone fell silent and Alex cracked his neck to the side and took a deep breath, apologizing lowly. “I’m sorry. I just … ”

“It’s fine.” She obviously felt some guilt over the hidden cigarettes and she moved the subject along as he hoped she would. “Let’s just drop it. It’s been a stressful week. There’s no reason to add onto that.”

“How was school today?” He lobbed the question towards the girl, but it was without any weight and he didn’t really care when she answered with just a feeble shrug. “Fine.” He poked at the slice, sickened by the fleas that composed it.

“I was just going to ask …” Ana spoke up next. “If you haven’t any plans for tomorrow, I’ve some _very_ good news.”

“Good news?” This sounded promising. At the very least, he was glad to change the subject.

“There’s been a massive hiring allocation approved for my division and I passed your resume along to my third line director.” She said it all matter of factly as she smiled and she helped herself to a drink of wine.

“What? My … _resume_?” He was still processing the words and his brows pinched at their implication. “You did what?”

“They were so impressed with your qualifications that they’ve fast tracked you for an interview. It’s tomorrow at 10 am.” She was _very_ pleased with herself and Alex blinked several times, resisting the urge to twitch again. “They’re more than willing to sponsor a work visa as well.” 

> _Perhaps it would be best to find a way to excuse ourselves._

“An … _interview_?” Wait, was she serious? “Like a _job_ interview? Whatever for?”

“Well, it’s nothing quite so serious. Just something to **_keep you busy_** while we’re here. I know how you hate to be _idle_.”

“But, you don’t _do_ publishing.” He countered. “What on Earth could I do there?” She worked for a global investment firm, and he was _not_ an _investor_.

“Well, it’s in …” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, picking up on his annoyed tone. Clearing her throat, it was obvious she needed to tread carefully now. “Marketing. They are in need of a _writer_ for their … _social media_.”

“Social … _media_?” The question was ripe with betrayal. “Are you serious? You _are_ serious.” 

> _Keep it together. None of this matters. None of this is_ **_real_**.

“It’s a great way to _get your foot_ in the door, Alex.” That was her managerial tone and he shook his head at her attempt to manipulate him.

“While I appreciate the offer …” He appreciated _nothing_ , and his words were firm, but so were her eyes, disappointment flushing madly across her elegant features. “I’m afraid you are going to have to tell them I am _not_ interested.”

“The interview is _already_ set.” Her napkin was dropped to the table and he could feel the beginnings of a fight and that damned voice _rattled_ again. “It would look _bad_ on me if you declined. Embarrassing even.” 

> _Remain calm. There is no need to–_

“Then I’m afraid it will look _bad_ on you.”

Sarah snickered at his defiance and Ana rolled her head. “Alex, this is not what we–”

He had enough of this and he threw his own napkin upon the plate, never touching the undulating food. He stood with great force, sliding the chair out violently behind him, causing it to hit the wall behind. He was already moving towards the room, specifically towards the closet.

“Alex! Get back here!” She shouted after him. “Where are you going!? We’re having a discussion!”

“No. A discussion requires the _exchange of ideas_.” He paused at the bedroom’s entrance. “ _You_ were just barking orders at me and I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”

“And so what?” She shrugged at his childish behavior. “You just _storm_ off? _Are you five years old_?!”

“I would rather be _five_ than continue to be your **_ puppet_**.” He sneered the last word before he vanished into the room.

“Wow.” Sarah began, a smile wide on her teenage face. “That was fun. This is just like home–”

“NOT A _FUCKING_ WORD.” Ana snapped, pointing a finger towards her petulant child.

“Language.” Sarah giggled.

He hadn’t even _touched_ his food and she tapped the table, taking a deep breath. It was best to give him a moment to cool down before attempting to breach the subject again and she was honestly shocked to see him stomp out of the bedroom again so soon. “Wait … What _on Earth_ are you wearing?!?”

Not bothering to look upon her, he answered rudely. “Sweatpants, _obviously_.” It wasn’t _just_ sweatpants. He was also in a white T-shirt and sneakers. All of which were _quite_ uncharacteristic of him, even when he was at home. She stood as she realized he was moving towards the front door, snatching his keys, wallet, and phone from the counter as he whizzed by.

“Wait!” She moved to intercept him, but he was already opening the door. “Alex! Where are you going?! You haven’t even _touched_ your food.”

“I’m not hungry.” He glanced at her quickly as he shut the door behind him. “I need some _fresh air_. I’ll be home later.”

 

* * *

 

Near the end of the argument, he had heard the door to the neighbouring apartment slam shut and he reacted immediately. He knew exactly where she was going and it was the _perfect_ excuse to get away from the argument and now he sprinted down the hallway but the elevator was already heading downwards. _Damnation_. Clenching his fist, he resisted pounding it against the metal door like a child. 

> _The stairs. Hurry. We can beat the carriage._

“Nah, I’ll never make it in time.” He responded out loud and once he did, he felt _truly_ mad. He was, quite literally, talking to himself now. 

> _That is a defeatist attitude. You disappointment me … Alex._

“Fine. Whatever … Why _the fuck_ not?” He was up for the challenge, though he didn’t wish to smash his head against the wall as he did before, but the thought of that didn’t slow him down at all and he began to leap down the stairs.

> _We’re faster than this … and we know it._

He skipped one step, then two. Just as before, he was leaping from one landing to the other, using the railing as a midpoint of contact. His landings had been sloppy before. His feet had slid on impact days before, but now, he was landing cleanly on each bound and he found the experience quite exhilarating.

But as exciting as it was, as he burst through the lobby doors, the stress of the physical exertion on his body hit him like a ton of bricks and he doubled forward, panting as he gripped his side. “Oh good lord …” The lift _dinged_ , indicating its arrival and he tried to enact control over his rapid and short breaths. He forced himself erect as the doors opened and she stepped out, her face down and her attention on that little square device, as always.

“Ah …” He clenched his jaw and bit back the pain in his side. “Hello again.”

“Oh!” At first she was shocked that someone else was there and when she realized it was him, her face brightened. “Hey …” Her eyes flickered to his pants quickly and her brow raised inquisitively. “ _What the hell are you wearing?_ ”

“Oh this. It’s nothing.” His hand flew to his hip and he tried to look nonchalant, but he was clearly nervous. Could she tell? The smile on her face definitely implied she could. “I thought … I’d take Ron up on his offer … and check out your _club_.”

“What? Really? You _really_ wanna check out the _dojo_?” The question was equal parts disbelief and excitement.

“Why not?”

“I dunno. I thought you were making fun of it the other night.”

“I’m actually always up to learn new things.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ve really _nothing_ better to do.” That wasn’t exactly true. He had loads of stuff he _should_ be doing, but none of it was what he _wanted_ to do. “It’s quite the dangerous city though. Would you care to walk _me_ there?”

“I guess so.” She slid the phone into her pocket, giving him her full attention as she swung the duffel bag to her back.

As they approached the southern street side exit, she reached for the door but he sprung forward first, grabbing the handle and holding it open for her as he waved a hand for her to go first. It looked as if she might complain about the action, but she stepped through and he reached for the duffle strap on her shoulder and pulled it off stealthily.

“Hey!” She grunted as he stepped out the door behind her and put the strap on his own shoulder. “I can carry my own bag.”

“I’m certain you can.” He couldn’t help himself as he nudged her with his left shoulder playfully. “But should you need to spring into action to save us, I think it better if you’re unencumbered.”

Even though she shook her head at his words, he could tell that she was amused by them and he felt a sense of accomplishment over her entertainment. The walk wasn’t very far, only a number of blocks away, but as they strolled, her attention kept returning to his pants.

“What is it?” He had to know. “Are my pants really that funny to you?”

“I dunno. You’re just always dressed so …” She scrunched her nose as she considered her next word carefully. “So _smart_.” Quite pleased with herself, her smile spread across her entire face. “That’s right, right? That’s what you _English_ say, right?”

“Well …” He glanced down at her strangely baggy, white cotton pants. “Yours really aren’t any better.”

“Hey!” She playfully took offense. “These are Gi pants. You’ll have to wear them too.” She cleared her throat as her assumption embarrassed her. “I mean, if … if you decide to join … I mean … if you wind up liking it.”

 

* * *

 

Though the dojo was just one massive open space, it was cleverly bisected with a series of Asian themed room dividers, allowing the room to handle two classes at a time. And the mirrors that lined every available inch of wall space only made it all feel even bigger.

“Oh hey! Glad you made it.” Ron hadn’t even seen him yet, even though Alex stood right beside her. The black haired man approached with excitement and paused when he was within five feet, tilting his head to the right and then to the left. “Wait … _did you change your hair_?”

Alex blinked and looked at her, his mind itched with annoyance. He had thought the same thing earlier, but when he remembered her hair, it had always been this way. He expected her to laugh it off but instead, she touched at her golden ponytail nervously.

“Yeah. Actually I did.” Wait … _Alex_ blinked. She did?! He thought she had, he was certain–

“I knew it!” Ron clapped his hands, quite pleased with his observation, he beamed at her.

“What do you think?” There was a vulnerable nervousness to the question and Ron’s pleased face never cracked.

“It looks great. I _love_ it.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if–” Her disbelief was cut short as Ron finally noticed him.

“Alex?” He thrusted a hand out for Alex to shake. “What _the hell_ are you doing here?”

He hoped to actually try out the class, however, apparently the ‘ _Adult Beginners Class_ ’ was every Monday and Wednesday night, and seeing as this was Thursday, Ron had given him the choice of joining the ‘ _Children’s Beginners Class’_ or just observing the _Advanced Class_. He opted for the latter, obviously.

So now he sat humbly on the sidelines as commanded. Trying to make as little noise as possible in an old, uncomfortable, and rickety wooden folding chair. He swore every time he leaned one way or another, the wood squeaked loudly and distracted Ron from his instruction.

A good portion of the class was seemingly devoted to having all ten students stand in formation, punching and kicking the air. Alex had to refrain from laughing out loud, through Ron could clearly see the amusement plastered across his goofy face. He might have gotten bored, but he enjoyed just watching the absurdity of their monotony. He especially enjoyed how nervous his glances seemed to make her.

An hour in, the children’s class was released and the advanced class switched gears.

“Alright, let’s do a little self defense. Find yourself a partner.”

Alex very nearly leapt to his feet, but instead curled his nostrils up as Ron approached Elaine.

“Let’s start with practicing with some basic lapel grabs.” He instructed the class and everyone complied.

Alex watched as there was substantial flirting occuring and his face grew pensive as Ron thwarted every one of her attempts to try the technique. At one point, he spun her around and grabbed her tightly around the abdomen, pinning her arms to her side and crushing her curves with his arms.

She was clearly annoyed and her thrust backwards, attempting a head butt, but Ron only chuckled at the attempt. “You’ll have to be _faster_ than that.”

“Oh don’t worry. Speed isn’t a problem.” She stomped down on his foot and he released her as he stepped back and hopped a bit from the pain of it. Alex laughed out loud, enjoying the man’s pain.

“Ouch! Damn. That was **_dirty_**!” Ron complained.

“Yeah, well. Are you gonna let me do the technique or not?”

“Fine.” He had no intention of it and grabbed at her body again as Alex sighed loudly. Ron rolled his head at the childish noise. “You’ve a problem?”

“Oh, nothing.” Alex shrugged, seeking to antagonize the sensei. “It’s quite easy to overpower such tiny thing, isn’t it? Wonder how you might fair against someone your own size.”

“Hey!” She pouted at the accusation, her lower lip protruding as she expressed her annoyance. “I’m not _that_ tiny.”

“She’s actually quite capable.” Ron grinned at her before turning his attention to Alex fully. “But, by all means, _step up_. Care to learn some proper _defense_?”

Finally. Alex jumped up, glad to be out of that damned wooden chair and he approached the man who was exactly his height. Their builds were similar and Alex was actually unsure which one might be stronger, but he had bested this man once before. That had been twenty years ago, but still … he had faith in himself.

Ron patted his chest, inviting Alex to grab his shirt. He should have been expecting _something_ , but the speed and torque that the man moved with surprised him and his back was to the instructor. Ron kicked at the inside of his right knee, and Alex buckled to the ground with a grunt.

**[Wolves - Sam Tinnesz](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3cMysrgs6vEeJfMm1qPBq4&t=ODgxZDliN2Q1ZjU3MGNkMjZmMzZkZWUyNGU3ZWU2MGUwMzhlMGY5Nix1a01hbXBTWA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173139264503%2Fchapter-125-damnation&m=1) **

> _Better run, better run_
> 
> _When the wolves come out to play!_
> 
> _No mercy!_
> 
> _This fury!_

“Remember, while out in the _wild_ , should you ever need to actually defend yourself, there are _no rules_.” Ron had his arm torqued and pressed uncomfortably firm against his own back as he bellowed out to the entire class. With any movement from Alex, Ron turned the hold slightly, sending a savage jolt of pain through the joints of his twisted limb. “While you might treat people in here with respect and candor, when you fight out there, don’t be afraid to use _everything_ to your advantage.”

The voice had been entirely quiet since the stairwell, but it could clearly feel Alex’s brewing anxiety. 

> _Do not. It is not necessary._

But this command, even if it hadn’t been too late, would have been ignored as Alex pursed his lips together and bit through the pain of the hold. Using his free arm, he reached behind and gripped his opponent’s ankle. Ron felt the movement and put significant pressure on the hold, hoping to subdue the counter attack with _pain_ alone, but Alex ignored it and he ripped the man’s foot out from under him.

“Oh!” Someone in the class gasped and Ron hit the ground, squarely on his back, the air within his chest violently expelled from the impact. Alex was on his feet already and he looked to _her_ for acknowledgement, pride billowing from his smile, but she wasn’t amused at all. Rolling her eyes at him, she crossed her hands over her chest and shook her head.

“What?” Alex beamed further. “No rules, right?” He probably should have been paying attention to the man scrambling back to his feet. If he had been, Ron’s left hook would have never connected with his lower lip and jaw. Pain coursed through his face as he stumbled backwards and Ron was upon him again, swinging with a right hook now.

“Oh god!! Ron!!” This was _her_ voice, but they both ignored it. “Boys!”

Alex wasn’t even sure how it was happening, but he blocked the wild swing and returned the strike with one of his own, popping the black belt squarely in the center of his large nose.

“Uhhhh!” Ron took several steps backwards as he struggled to see through watering eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head as he cursed Alex. “You son of a bitch!” Blood began to trickle from both nostrils and Alex wiped his broken lower lip with the back of his hand, verifying that he was in fact bleeding as well.

“Me? You’re the one who started this, you _bastard_!” Alex spat back, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was accurate. Some part of him _knew_ that this was because of Ron, but he wasn’t about to admit _why_. That handsy prick. “You–”

Ron was fully triggered now. He stepped forward, his hands coming up like a boxer and the fight turned _very_ real as Alex ducked right and retreated from the calculated swing. 

> _Stand your ground. He is_ **_just_** _a man._

But something in that statement didn’t seem right as they began to fight. Each step, each strike, each blow, countered and matched, like a dance. Alex wasn’t sure exactly how he could even stand against a man as well-trained, but instinct overwhelmed him and the voice guided. 

> _Do not retreat again. Stop moving in straight lines. We are better than this. He is_ **_just_** _a man_.

The voice repeated that last sentence again and it felt as if it was trying to convince them both of this fact, but regardless, Alex was proud of himself until Ron began to use his legs and Alex felt the strike land hard against his right cheek. _Bugger!_ The force of the strike sent him to his knees.

“I’ve no desire to hurt you. Stay down.” Ron huffed from above. “ _Yield_.”

Alex didn’t _really_ wish Ron to hurt him either, but that word sent a snarl through his face and he sprung towards his opponent, shooting up from the ground like a missile as he tackled him and the fight turned into a full brawl. _“Never!”_ He screamed as he lashed out crazily.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you two?!” Her voice demanded again. Someone masculine tried to pull them apart but they were flung away as the men clawed and scratched at each other, rolling across the ground, each landing a strike only here or there as all elegance left the encounter.

Alex particularly didn’t like the strike that was landed to his left ribs as he could swear he heard them crack from the force and he cringed, the subsequent exhale catching him off guard. Ron used the moment as a distraction to roll on top as he demanded surrender. “YIELD!”

“NEVER!” Alex spat back, thrusting his face forward and connecting his forehead with the man’s already bleeding and damaged nose.

“OH!” Ron reeled back, grabbing at his nose as it gushed blood everywhere. “YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

“Jesus Christ! STOP IT!!!” Her voice was now pleading and the rest of the class just watched, their mouths open agape as the fight continued. None one of them having the courage to step forward to tear apart the savagery, over fear of their own self-preservation.

Alex’s fingers were already into the man’s thick black hair and he ripped it backwards, using the momentum to thrust his hips up and rock Ron from his position on top. He rolled and spun the man’s body away from him as they tumbled. It worked perfectly and he was now not JUST on top, but Ron was facing away from him. He smirked, thrusting Ron’s face into the ground with his right hand, which still gripping the man’s hair. His left hand was now holding Ron’s arm in the same torqued position against his back that he had held Alex only minutes earlier.

Ron grunted as Alex twisted the arm without mercy, leaning forward and whispering down into his defeated opponent’s ear quietly. “ _Yield_.” Attempting to buck him off, Ron jolted his body, but Alex wasn’t moving. He pushed Ron’s face into the ground harder and torqued the arm until the man whimpered. “I said … _YIELD_.”

With his free arm, Ron tapped the ground with his open palm. This should have been enough. This was the common display of surrender when wrestling, but Alex wanted to _hear_ it. He purred the demand quietly. “ _Say it._ ”

“I yield, you _arsehole_.” Ron panted into the ground, the words bubbling through his blood. “ _I fucking yield_.”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure what he would see in the mirror, but he hoped it wouldn’t be that damn pale man again and he was pleased to see his own reflection staring back, though the current state of his face was another matter altogether.

His lower lip was split, swollen, and bleeding. His right cheekbone was already bruising and his left eye was definitely going to be black in the morning. His nose had stopped bleeding at least and the cold water didn’t feel as good as he hoped. He cringed as he wiped the blood from his face and gingerly tested the darkened spots with his prodding finger tips.

“ _Damnation_.” He leaned down and splashed himself one more time before he came upright to be face to face with the pale man again. The sudden change of scenery sent him reeling back and he stumbled, falling against the wall behind. “Fucking hell!” He screamed at the stoic, monstrous face. “Don’t do that!”

“That should not have happened.” The pale man shook his head.

“Yeah well. I lost my temper. Fucking sue me.” He crumpled the blood-soaked paper towel and threw it into the trash.

“That’s not what I meant.” The figure said. “He shouldn’t have been a problem … He is _just_ a man.” The thing tilted it’s head to the right. “I do not trust this. He is _dangerous_.”

“Apparently not. I won. Didn’t I?” Alex smiled proudly, but the grin faded instantly as that act alone sent pangs of pain searing down his jaw. “ _Fuck_.”

“He should _not_ have been an issue _at all_.” The pale man repeated. “Be wary. I do not think he is what he seems.”

“Not what he seems?” But it was too late and Alex just stared at his own broken face again. The pale man was gone. “Ah, thanks. Yup. Mad. I’m going mad. This is great … ”

He touched his cheek one final time and cringed before he headed back towards the main room of the training area. Everyone else in the class had left, quietly and without words, and he knew that she and Ron were the only ones remaining. Ron had given him first dibs on the single person restroom and her obvious annoyance over the situation sent him fleeing from her judgemental eyes.

Now, as he came up the slender hallway and approached the room, he stopped just short of the door as he heard them talking. He really shouldn’t listen, but he really had no control over anything he was doing anymore and he stopped, leaning against the wall as he eavesdropped on her for the second time.

Ron hissed a cringe and she laughed. She was obviously tending to him and Alex’s jealousy flared as he clenched his jaw and then cringed himself. _Fuck_.

“Oh please. You’ve been hit before. I’ve hit you before.”

“Yeah, well. He hits like a _goddamn_ freight train.”

“What the hell was _that_ about anyways?”

“He started it.” Ron sounded as childish as Alex felt.

“Yeah, but you’re the sensei. Acting like that’s _supposed_ to be beneath you.” There was a pause.

“I disappointed you.”

“Nah.” Clearly they both had and even Alex could hear the lie in her single word. “It’s fine.”

“Well, if I did … you won’t have to put up with me for a while then.” That was a curious statement. Was he going somewhere? Alex nearly grinned before he remembered his jaw.

“For a while? What does that mean?” Her voice was rich with concern. “Where are you going?”

“A very nice contract just _landed in our lap_ this afternoon. Looks like I’ll be away for a while.”

“You’re … _leaving_?”

“I’ll be back. Justin will be in charge of the dojo until I get back.”

“Wait … How long are you gonna be gone? And Justin? Really?”

“He’s been with me the longest.” He chuckled. “I considered putting _you_ in charge but … I was actually hoping …” Ron stuttered. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with me.”

“What?” She choked. “Come … with you?”

“I know. I know. I know we said we’d take it slow, but … we can always take it slow … _there_.”

“I don’t …” She paused and Alex held his breath as he could feel her considering the offer. Actually considering it. “ _Where_?”

“Rome.” Another pause. He was waiting for her to respond and Alex desperately wished he could see her face right now. When she didn’t speak, Ron pressed again. “You’re mentioning it … _all the time_. I just thought … _I thought it was perfect_.”

“Rome?” Her voice was riddled with subdued excitement. He could _feel_ it in her tone. “I mean, but we don’t even know each other that well. What if–”

“You’ve been coming here for half a year, of course I know you.”

Alex pinched his eyes shut, wishing he had punched the man harder than he had.

“Even after …” Her voice cracked.

“Even after what?”

“Even after I … _changed my hair_?”

“I told you …” There was a pause and Alex had to force himself to breathe. If he held his breath for much longer, he was sure to pass out. “I _love_ it. It suits you so much better.”

“… For how long?”

“Three months, with an option to extend to six if they’re pleased. It’s nothing dangerous either. Just a routine security detail for a some rich tosser.”

“Don’t you send _people_ to do that stuff for you?”

“He requested the best and _that would be me …_ personally.”

“You sure about that?” She giggled loudly at the statement. “You just got your ass handed to you by a _book editor_.” Alex was proud of the statement, though the qualifier was a bit condescending. _Book Editor_. Hmmm.

“I didn’t want to hurt him.” Ron attempted a feeble excuse and there was another chuckle from her.

“Uh huh.”

“It’s alright if you say no. I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll get over it.” Another pause. He wished he could see their faces. “I’ll be back and we can just pick up where we left off. But if you do want to come … to get away from all of this … try something new for a while, I’m leaving Saturday morning.”

 _Saturday morning_?! That was in two days. _Two days!_ Alex stepped forward as loudly as possible, not wishing to give the man anymore time to manipulate her to go. He had always been quite good with the ladies.

“Ooop. Done. All yours, old chap.” He bit back his jealousy, feigning a painful and sinister smile as he waved Ron towards the bathroom. “Chop, chop.”


	112. 12.6 - Damnation

“Ron _hit_ you?” She gingerly prodded the open slit on his lower lip with the damp washcloth and Alex winced from the pressure as she continued to question him over what had occurred. Ana was _not_ happy with the state of his face when he had come home. “Good Lord, why would he _hit_ you?”

“Several times, actually.”

“What did _you_ do?” She pulled back and tilted her head. Her empathy was short-lived and her accusatory eyes grew less concerned over _him_ by the minute.

“He was _peacocking_.” Alex explained.

“Peacocking?” She smiled. “For _who_?” Alex flicked his head towards their strange neighbor’s apartment and Ana’s face furrowed. “Oh no. No. I doubt that very much.”

“What do you mean?” Alex was confused by the statement. “I was there. He clearly likes her. He was being quite handsy.”

“That’s strange. I hope not.” She shook her head. “She’s not really _his type_.”

“What?” Alex wasn’t sure how to internalize her statements. She had stated _very much_ the opposite just the other night, had she not? “I thought you liked her? I thought you said she would be _good_ for him?”

“Oh heavens no. I wouldn’t have said that.” Ana snorted and Alex wasn’t sure if he was truly going mad or was she just not remembering properly. There had been much wine that night, after all. “She’s far too old for him …”

“Too old?” He was almost defensive about the statement. Partly because of its absurdity and partly because of its implication. “She’s at least _ten_ years younger than … _him_.” He nearly said _us_ , as both of them were the same age as Ron.

“Well, yeah, but …” She pressed the cold cloth against his cheek next and he winced. “He deserves someone … I don’t know. She’s just …”

“You said she was … _nice_.” Alex was certain he remembered it right. “You said you two could be _sisters_.”

“I definitely _did not_. Oh heavens no.” He could see his wife nearly cringe from even the implication of that statement and he felt nauseous at her touch now. “I would not have said that about her. She’s actually _quite strange_.” Alex was _certain_ the word his wife had used before was _refreshing_. He furrowed his brow at her and she sighed. “He just think he can do _much_ better. She’s just very … ” Alex could only stare at her while she pawed through her mind for the least _offensive_ descriptor. “Plain. He _deserves_ more.”

“Well, clearly he doesn’t feel that way. Whatever your _changing_ views of her might be, it doesn’t matter. He finds her _lovely_ …” He resisted the sneer in disclosing their cousin’s obvious desire. “And he _was_ peacocking.”

“Why are you being so defensive with me?” Ana picked up on something in his tone and she tilted her head to the right. “Alex, was he the _only_ one peacocking?”

“Don’t look at me like that. _He_ started it.” It was a childish retort, but Alex didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything right now. His mind was a flurry of thoughts over the eavesdropped conversation.

“Well, it looks like he also _finished_ it. That was _foolish_. You look like _hell_.”

“Actually …” Alex retreated from her touches entirely, standing up from the table and snatching the cold, wet cloth from her hand and pressing it against his mouth himself. He was done with the unnecessary nursing. “I was the one who _finished_ it.”

“Alex?” He was nearly to the room when she called out to him and when he turned, the defeat on her face caused him pause. “I’m sorry about the _interview_. I really didn’t think it would be a problem. We can cancel–”

“It’s fine.” He succumbed to the sadness on his wife’s face.

“I’m serious. I’ll understand if you don’t go. I really shouldn’t have–”

“It’s fine.” He cut into her sentence again. “It won’t hurt to go. And you’re right, being cooped up in here hasn’t been good for me.”

“Thank you.” She said and he nodded once, turning to leave before she spoke yet again, her voice ripe with worry. “Do you … regret coming here?”

“No.” There was no hesitation in this response. It’s what she wanted to hear, but he also knew his response had _nothing_ to do with her at all and the shame of this revelation was overwhelming. “Absolutely not.” Ana smiled and he turned once more attempting to leave her presence, to slink away so he could be alone in his anger. and shame, as his eyes danced across the far wall, the one shared with his strange little neighbor.

_He regretted nothing. Absolutely not._

* * *

**[Burning Cold - Eurielle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3hvEXKefWcagdRYVwPtT8W&t=ZWEwMTNjZWQzODBjZmRlMjg1NTIzODA3YTNiMjgyYzllMTlmOTJiMSxpdDlDbVcycw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173432584143%2Fchapter-126-damnation&m=1) **

> _They tied me down the gleaming cross_
> 
> _For your ice is all around_
> 
> _Your strength is all I have to hold_
> 
> _And the fire keeps my heart cold_
> 
> _There was darkness._

All around him. Enveloping him, encompassing him, _seducing_ him. This was how it all had started. How _everything_ had started. How _he_ had started. In the darkness … _alone but unafraid_. Not a single time had he _ever_ feared it. Not when he was a tiny child, forsaken and starving, abandoned in that cold cave near that Sicilian olive orchard. And not even now, when his dhampiric eyes could not cut through it’s absolute blackness. He was still _not_ afraid.

Because without darkness, there could never exist light. Because without the night, there could never be the _dawn_.

_There were silken sheets._

All around him. Covering him, wrapping him, _embracing_ him. He stared upwards into nothingness and stretched his limbs out as far as they could go in all directions, taking fistfuls of the material as he grunted a relaxed sigh. He was awake now, but only barely. He dozed and his mind savoured the fleeting remnants of his fading dreams.

_Then … there was skin._

Brushing against him. Warming him, enticing him, _touching_ him. It was delicate and soft and welcomed. And he wasn’t surprised by its contact. In fact, he expected it and as he rolled onto his side, in its direction. He searched for it and found there was _more_ of it, grazing against him and he rubbed against an invisible body. Reaching out, he wasn’t sure what he might touch, but as he gripped the flesh, he realized it was a shoulder, and moving down the length of its arm, he slowly meandered his fingertips across the body as he grazed.

_And then … there was a voice._

_A soft voice. Her voice_. Soothing him, acknowledging him, _taunting_ him. She reacted to his hand, cooing at his touch, giggling at it. “ _Mmmmm_. Stop. That _tickles_.”

She was moving in the darkness, he could hear her body gliding against the sheets as she turned to face him and his path down her arm completed as their hands met. She accepted his fingers into her own, returning the grasp as their fingers interlocked and he whispered. “ _Good_.”

Moaning sleepily, she stretched her body and inched towards his and then he _felt_ something brush against the tip of his nose. Finally, he _felt_ her voice, her warm breath touched his lips as he realized it was _her_ nose that had brushed his. “Should we get up?”

“No. Not yet.” He pulled at the sheets and flung them away from their bodies so that their skin could touch without hindrance. “It’s _still_ dark. Let’s stay a bit longer …” He released her hand and his fingers danced across the skin of her abdomen and the gentle sensation caused her to giggle again. There was a brief attempt to flee from his tickling, but he did not allow it and he gripped her retreating body, pulling it flush against his.

“But it won’t be dark for long.” She protested.

“I know.” His forehead pressed against hers. “But … just _wait_.”

“We can’t. _Dawn is coming_.” She purred and he angled his mouth towards hers. “It’s almost time to wake up now, Quintus.”

_And then … there was light …_

Hands grabbed across his body. They stroked down his bare chest and he took in a deep breath as his bedroom ceiling came sharply into focus. “Mmmmm.” He moaned a response to the touching and his groggy body came to life.

“Oh my. You like that, don’t you … _big boy_?”

It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. The tone was deeper and _English_ and he reacted violently to its unexpectedness, shrieking away from the person in the bed next to him. He was already on his feet, his hand pushing against his chest, his heart thundering with confusion as he stared back into his wife’s confused eyes.

“What? What’s wrong?” She pulled back, her reaction just as exaggerated as his own.

“I’m sorry …” Alex panted. “I was … I was having _a dream_ … I …”

“Oh, I know. I _heard_.” She smirked, her eyes glancing down to his pants. “And it was a _good_ dream too.” He followed her stare and his hands flew to the hardness pitching in his pants as he pinched his legs shut. “How about you come back to bed and I’ll help you out with–Hey! Where are you going?!”

Mid-sentence, he fled, bee-lining it towards the restroom, ignoring her protests for him to return. He untied his pants, letting them fall to the ground as he pushed his briefs off and stepped into the shower. Normally, he would have let the water warm a bit, but he wanted the opposite of a relaxing experience and he stepped into the frigid stream. His body clenched as the sudden change of temperature shocked him fully awake and he placed his palms on the tiled wall as he let the cold water wash over the back of his head and down his spine.

“Well … that’s just great.” He spun and found Ana standing at the shower stall entrance, pulling her robe tight and tying it as she waved at his midsection, which was now shrunken and flacid from the cold. “The first bit of life it shows me _in months_ and you drown it out in the shower. That’s just great.”

Her disappointment didn’t actually phase him much, as he knew his wife. He understood her pride and he _accepted_ she wouldn’t want him to take her with a hardness caused by the thought of another woman. His shame over this fact was overwhelming and he turned his back to her, not offering a word in response, fully expecting she would leave him in peace if he didn’t drag on this unnecessary conversation.

“Were you lying this whole time …” Her voice cracked, pain ripe in its delivery. “Every time you said it wasn’t _me_? Was it a lie?”

 _Dammit Alex_.

He pinched his eyes shut just as the water finally began to warm He should say something. Did he not owe her that much? Turning to apologize, he found himself alone and was unquestionably relieved.

 

* * *

 

 

He battled with the tie around his neck, tying and untying it at least three times as his frustration began to mount over the absurdity of the chore. The morning had been a disaster. Ana had avoided him, only uttering _five_ words to him, and they had been muttered on her way out of the apartment: “They expect you at ten.”

Now he fought the wretched thing around his neck and he felt even more like a puppet than he had the night before when she had sprung the interview on him. He pulled it loose. Cursed. Then headed back to the kitchen for his usual cup of coffee.

Stress was replaced with relief as he pulled the mug from the machine and stared down into the black _liquid_. There were no tiny bug-like machines in the cup and he smiled, hoping his mind was getting back to normal but his smirk faded quickly as he opened the fridge and realized he had _yet_ to get to the damn market.

“ _Fuck me._ ” He grinned.

_Don’t do it, Alex. Get ready to go. Pick up coffee on the way. It’s already late._

But regardless of what his rational mind _demanded_ that he do, he was already standing before the door labeled 2719. His finger was already hovering over the button as he recalled the more-than-a-little awkward walk back from the dojo last night. Neither one had said a word until they were parting ways in the hallway and even that was just a begrudging: “Good night.”

She hadn’t been happy with his display of violence and he hadn’t been happy about her consideration of accompanying his cousin-in-law to Rome, though neither of them voiced anything and he was certain she had no idea he overheard them.

He hesitated, staring at the button and that rattling _unconscious_ voice finally returned, egging him on.  

> _Coward_.

_Damnation_. He pressed the button, his heart pounding as the chime rang in her apartment. He watched the light in the peephole go black and then light again, but there was no sound or further movement. He could have pressed the button again, but instead he opted to just call out to her, knowing full well she was there and _avoiding_ him. “I know you’re there!” He slapped his palm on the door loudly. “Come on! I saw you in the peep hole!”

Nothing. Silence. He pressed the button and the chime rang again. “Come on! I’m in a bit of a rush this morning! I’m sorry, O.K.?” What the hell was he apologizing for again? Ron deserved what he got, did he not?

 _Damnation_. This day was going to _be terrible_ and he relented, turning away from the door. He only took two steps before he heard the deadbolt click. The door squeaked open and she looked through the little slit at him with only a single green eye visible. “What?”

He raised his mug and managed the goofiest grin he could. “Spare some cream?”

“Are you serious? Again?” She swung the door open wide now and he was taken aback to find her in a simple cotton robe, its length ending mid thigh. “You can _literally_ have it delivered. You don’t even have to leave.”

“I would have stopped to get some yesterday but …” He grinned even wider. “I was a bit busy all day yesterday. There was this _smashing_ exhibit.” She enjoyed the comment though she rolled her eyes at him for it and he raised his mug. “Do you mind? I really am kind of in a rush this morning.”

She surrendered. It was unclear if it was because of his _begging_ or because she had always intended to. Either way, she smiled and stepped to the side, opening the door for him fully and he slinked in. “Whoa. You look _fancy_ today.” Her comment on his professional attire was fleeting and she glided past him, heading towards the kitchen area and he followed. “Well … except for _your face_. Your face looks like shit.”

“Yeah.” He touched his lower lip instinctively and winced as he did. “I’ve an interview this morning. Does it really look _that_ bad?”

“Not if you’re applying to be a bouncer, I guess. You could always tell them you’re in a _fight club_.” She spoke as she pulled an unopened, small glass bottle out of the fridge, giggling as she handed it to him. “Here, just take it.”

“Take it? What? The whole thing?” His brows pinched. “I just need _a bit_. I swear I’ll get to the market today. You’ve my word.”

“Nah. I ordered two … since someone kept drinking all of mine. Just …” She stuttered and he wondered if the implication of that was that she was _expecting_ or _hoping_ that he might need more. “Just take it. It’ll probably go bad before I can use it anyways. I’m gonna have to pour it out before … ”

**[Built for This Time (Music Video Version) - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4Z6Eyfs2MaIvGzXsosxC90&t=NTk5YzI4YmY2ZDAzMzE5NjdmYzg2OWNlMGI5YWFhYTE4YjkyNmIxNyxpdDlDbVcycw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173432584143%2Fchapter-126-damnation&m=1) **

> _Standing there on the edge_
> 
> _Ain’t scared of what’s ahead_
> 
> _Walking up like revenge_
> 
> _I was built for this time_
> 
> _Bleeding red like the sun_
> 
> _Taking over everyone_
> 
> _Watch me as I overcome_
> 
> _I was built for this time_

“ _Go bad_?” Alex paused, setting his mug down as he accepted the full bottle from her. The next words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. “So you _are_ considering _Rome_ then?”

“What?” The words clearly caught her off guard and she stammered. “How did … how did you know about that? Did Ron tell you?”

“I …” It was his turn to stammer and he considered lying, but there really was no point. “I overheard you two last night. It wasn’t intentional.” Hmmm. Perhaps that last bit was kind of a lie.

“Oh.” She didn’t seem annoyed that he knew. No, that wasn’t it. She seemed … _sad_.

“Are you?” He pressed.

“Am I what?”

“Are you going to go?” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate or _creepy_ or _strange_ … but … “I mean, not that it’s any of my business … It’s just rather … sudden.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, watching his face carefully. “I mean, it might be _good_ for me, you know? It might be _time_.”

“Time? Time for what?” He squinted at her. “Time for a vacation?”

“Time to move on.” There was so much shame in her voice. Too much. He regretted pushing. “Time to finally … _let go_.”

“Oh. That. Right. I guess so … I mean … everyone deserves a … ” He fiddled with the glass carafe, pulling nervously at the plastic tab which held the lid on. “Bloody things.” It was a very _tiny_ tab and he pinched at it clumsily. “Bloody hell.” His frustration with the conversation was clearly being projecting upon the lid, and he was unable to focus entirely on anything as he fumbled with it. “Do you have a pair of scissors?”

“Let me see it.” She stepped forward and tried to pull it from his hands. “It’s not that hard. Just–”

“No. It’s alright.” He pulled it back, but she held tightly to it and they began a tug of war over the object. “It’s alright! Let go. I’ve got it! Let me have it! I’ve–”

Perhaps the timing was bad or perhaps the timing as absolutely perfect. Whatever the case, the tab gave way to his tugging all at once and the lid sprung off just as she tugged the container back towards herself and the fluid sloshed violently, splashing all over her face, shoulders, and neck. He was relatively unscathed from the ordeal and he released the bottle as his hands flew to his mouth, biting back a laugh that nearly escaped.

There was something so familiar about this. _Everything_ about it. From the white liquid dripping from her face, to the battle over the container, and now, the devilish smile that spread across her face as she flicked its wet lid towards him next and he felt the liquid sprinkle across his face, white cotton shirt, and _tie_. Bloody … hell. He had an interv … His mouth dropped agape as she dowsed him with a second flick and everything became even more _painfully_ [familiar](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20131444&t=NzI2ZmI1MzY0MWEyNTY1NDY4MGRiNjQ1MDllZDE2OGViMzUzODNlYixpdDlDbVcycw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173432584143%2Fchapter-126-damnation&m=1).

She was giggling uncontrollably now and déjà vu riddled across his entire body. His mind blanked as both of their smiles fell away the second before he gripped her wrist, pulling her towards him as his other hand found its way to her hip, sliding to her lower back. The carafe hit the floor and he was certain it shattered, but he could only heard himself growl as he pressed his lips against her, not hesitating to slip his tongue into her mouth immediately and causing her to grasp at his hunger for it.

His hands were smoothing over the back of her robe. Down and over the plump cheeks of her ass and as he clutched the meat of her under thighs, her hands found their way up his chest and around his neck, pulling him tightly against her as he hoisted her up and into the air. He turned and deposited her onto the granite countertop to the side of the fridge, making their heights somewhat even. He continued the assault on her mouth, though he wasn’t sure how much of an _attack_ it was, given the moans that she returned his advances with.

He tugged at the strap of her robe, pulling the knot free as she fumbled with the tie around his neck, pulling it loose. Begrudgingly, he left her lips, only momentarily, to free himself of the wretched noose. He pulled it over his head and flung it onto the ground before he returned his full attention to her mouth, his lips greeting hers with more gentleness this time as his hands cupped each side of her face. His tongue now less eager to breach her body, he brushed its tip softly against her lips as he wondered if she could feel his trembling. At the very least, he was sure she could feel his thundering heart.

She was unbuttoning his shirt. Staring with the very top one, she attacked each one in order until the remaining ones were hidden within his pants. There was no hesitation and she pulled his shirt up and out. Once all the buttons were freed, she touched his belt next and he leaned back from her mouth, staring down at her fingers tapping against the buckle.

There was a moment of tension and all movement halted. Her fingers had yet to move and this was the first time he took a deep breath since he tasted her. What on _Earth_ was she waiting for? He considered helping her hands with the easy task of freeing the leather, zipper, and fabric that insulated them from each other, but he waited. He wanted her to do it. He _needed_ her to do it. And his body was in anguish for it. He was more than _ready_ for this. Every _inch_ of him, in fact, and he felt alive once again. He felt like _a man_ and he _ached_ so very badly.

“ _What do you want from me?_ ” _That voice. Her voice._ She pulled her hands away from him and he looked back up into her eyes and there was a terrible vulnerability in this question. He could tell this not just from the tears that welled as she stared blankly at his chest, but also in the manner which her tiny fists balled up at her sides, resisting the urge to pull her robe shut. He could sense the need to close herself off from him, from everything, but she made no move to actually do so. She simply sat there before him, exposed, willing, and entirely ripe for _his_ taking.

He couldn’t answer the question though, because he didn’t really understand _what_ he wanted. And was it _want_ or was it _need_? Instead, he begged her for the opposite of everything that he wanted. “ _Tell me to go._ ” It was a plea and when she made no response, neither in movement nor voice, he took her left fist and brought it to left side of his chest. As it neared his skin, her palm opened, allowing him to press it against his warm, bare skin. “Please … _send me away_.”

“I’m not _keeping_ you here.” She absolutely was. Did she not realize this? “If you wanna leave … then just _go_.” Her eyes met his and he watched the volume of moisture overwhelm her right eye, and the subsequent tear streamed down the cheek. “I won’t stop you. _I won’t._ I promise … _to let you go_.”

 _Damnation_.

Did she not understand what he was asking? Did she not realize that _he simply couldn’t leave_ of his own free will and that is why he was _begging_ her to send him away? Or maybe he was the one who wasn’t understanding what _she_ was asking. But did any of these questions even matter? “ _I can’t._ ”

She repeated. “ _Then what do you want from me?_ ” Her lip quivered and he hated himself more in this instant than he thought he ever had, even though he would remember later, this was far from the truth. Oh gods … He was torturing her as much as she was torturing him.

And that damn question. There were so many qualifiers he could ask for it. They all rushed through his mind. What did he want _now_? What did he want _later_? What did he want _physically_ or _emotionally_? Or was it more straight forward. Did he want to face her _or_ did he wish to take her from behind? The latter was easiest for him to answer. He definitely wished to face her and he released her hand, hoping she would keep it pressed against his heart of her own free will and she did. His fingers traced the outline of her robe opening, running his tips across the cotton fabric of its hemmed edge, staring at the spot closest to the dark scar on her neck and then tracing it down, grazing her plump breasts, down over the black cotton bra, and even further down, touching the flesh of her curved stomach.

How easy it would be to just pull the robe open right now. How easy it would be to just … _give in_ , but before he could, she asked one last time. Desperation thick in the question’s execution. “ ** _What do you want from me, Mister Quin?_** ” He pulled his eyes from the robe opening, running his gaze up and across the cotton underwear and then up passed her belly button. Slowly up and over her covered breasts until he met her eyes again and he swam in their green hue, drunk on their nearly unnatural effect on him.

 _Oh good gods._ He should leave. He should … A buzzing began from his front pant pocket but it was nearly inaudible to him. He was completely distracted and, most importantly, he was absolutely _doomed_.

A tear broke free from her eye, streaking down her spotted cheek and he wiped its wet trail away quickly before he grabbed her upper thighs with undeniable intent. Gripping them savagely as he pulled her body against him hard, he _embraced_ what was about to happen. The sudden force of his movement was unexpected and caused her a sharp exhale of shock and he breathed the answer with fierce confidence as he pushed his lips against hers again. “ ** _Everything_**.”

There would be no more words to dissuade them. Only action preceded next. Pushing the robe over her shoulders, he left it behind as he lifted her again, moving her from the side counter and depositing her on the island instead. His shoes crunching the broken glass and spilt milk scattered across the floor. There weren’t upper cabinets here to worry about and she leaned back as his starved kisses grew forceful again, his mouth keeping her perfectly distracted as he pulled his _own_ belt free.

He had wanted _her_ to do it, because he wished to relinquish control, to deflect blame, to be a victim in _this_ ,. But he was more than that. He was a _willing accomplice_ and after his zipper gave way, his pants fell to his feet and he found himself groaning delicately into his kisses.

Her hands were all over him and he loved their touch. They smoothed across his chest, over his arms, gripping his triceps, pulling him into her, delicately prodding his muscles as they flexed with his movements. His eyes rolled into the back of his head when she brought her fingers through his hair and he was done waiting.

Beyond her knees, across her thighs and under them, and up her ass, his hands danced across her skin until they clenched the top of her cotton bikini briefs from behind. He tugged down, pulling them free of their position, slipping them off her legs, over her knees. He let gravity take them as he pulled his own underwear down.

There was nothing between them now and he took a deep breath. Resisting the urge to speak, over fear that any words might spook the moment, he successfully fought the desire to ask her if she wanted this, because it was clear she did. Especially as she inched down the granite towards him, biting her lip as she stared at his full exposure. He resisted the compulsion to hesitate, to doubt, to _panic_ , and he _surrendered_ to the wickedly inevitable next step.

He guided himself, easing his girth into her small frame and her tightness fought every _inch_ of the way, but it was clear her body was eager for him. Her arousal met his own as he found it already pleasantly greased and he firmly continued to push against the resistance. Her back arched with his motion and she breathed in deeply the moment he gasped as the sensation of their friction jolted through him in sinister pulses and he longed for her lips again, but found them too far to reach, in consolation he accepted her neck, pressing his mouth to the dark spot, _his spot_. He claimed it fully, teasing the flesh with his teeth and she writhed with his mellow bite, relishing every second of it.

Beginning to slide in and out, it took him only seconds to find the clip of her bra and unhook it with a single hand while the other pushed her down against the flat stone counter. Pulling the cotton garment away, he flung it with more force than he had his tie and his mouth dove for the first nipple freed for his taking.

She watched, beautiful eyes wide while she propped herself up on elbows, leaning back against the cold granite as he suckled. He gripped her thighs, pulling her down against his firm movements, and never moving his eyes from hers while he mouth played with her breast. In hindsight, he should have taken her somewhere more comfortable, but it was far too late for that and he wasn’t about to halt _anything_ to accomplish that fleeting regret. Everything within him was boiling. It rumbled and he conveyed that as he growled and groaned in unison with her own noises.

He gave the other nipple only a passing nibble before he _finally_ spoke again, panting the words. “ _Come here …_ ” It was a command and he seized her upper arms, gripping her biceps and pulling her up, allowing her arms to wrap around his neck as his mouth found hers again and he felt pain and tasted blood in the kiss, but it didn’t deter him from continuing. If anything, it drove his passion to mount even further. It was from the cut on his mouth when she took his lower lip into her mouth. It was already flushed with blood from the kissing and as she sucked savagely on it, she drew _more_ blood out of his damaged flesh.

His hands were pinching into her ass cheeks and he pumped, pulling her off the counter, towards him a bit more and her lower back pressed against its edge. She winced and bit harder into his lip. _Damnation._ It was clearly uncomfortable for her, but her own motions, grinding against him, demanded that he continue.

 _Don’t stop … Don’t stop … Do not …_ _oh shit … oh shit … oh …_ **_fuck_** ….

These were the final throes. He could have pulled back, taken her to the couch, to the bed, somewhere where he could assure she would have equal satisfaction, but this was the very point of no return and he dove over its edge, selfishly craving the satiation that would culminate from the continued friction. Pressing his forehead against hers, his body clenched and heaved as he rode their momentum to _his_ final climax, spilling himself into her in a series of wickedly satisfying bursts. He plunged himself as deep as possible before it began.

_One, two, three, … four, … … and finally … five._

The act was finished with a vulnerable moan. His muscles relaxed as the last waves of ecstasy pulsed through his extremities and all movement from him died down … slowly and completely. She slipped her arms around his neck and he accepted the embrace, burrowing his face against her face. He collapsed down against her collar and wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her so tight, so snug against him that he forced the air from her lungs sharply … _again._

“Ohhh.” She gasped at it.

“ _Mmmmmm. Mine_.” It was all he could manage, breathing in the musky, sweet smell that rose up from their entangled bodies. The pungent smell of their combined moisture wafting up from their heat. He was certain he could have stayed like this for hours, unmoving, unrelenting, but she protested slightly, pulling back and pressing against his chest as she tried to wiggle up.

“Sorry. This is … _uncomfortable_.” She groaned. Her butt was pinned against the sharp corner of the counter’s edge and his thighs were holding her there, his body pressing its substantial weight against her.

“Sorry … _sorry_.” Obviously that couldn’t be comfortable and he lifted her, letting her cheeks rest fully on the stone slab as he slipped out of her. Without his shaft to hold it in, gravity worked fast and he saw liquid ooze out onto the counter. The site of it shocked him as the revelation of what just occurred hit him hard. “Oh … _oh shit_.” He blinked at her several times, unsure how to react. “Are you on the pill?” Perhaps that should have been a question asked _before_ he had finished _inside_ of her? _Shit._ That rattling voice was quick to chastise him.  

> **_That_** _is the first thing we say to her after what has just occurred? What in the Hell is wrong with you?_

“I … _No, I’m not_ … I mean, I don’t nee–” She stuttered and that incessant buzzing began again and they both stared towards the ground from where it emanated, from the pocket of his dark-colored slacks, still resting at his ankles, in the puddle of spilled cream.

“Fuck … _sorry_ … lemme just … I …” His mind cleared slowly and he pulled away, bending and fumbling with his pants as he pulled his underwear and slacks up together. He wobbled as he buttoned them and reached into his pocket, fishing the phone out. He looked at the number and his brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure _who_ he was expecting but out of all the numbers, he was quite certain _this_ was the only one he wouldn’t have ignored. He sought her eyes for understanding as he began to flick the screen to accept it. “It’s … _Sarah’s school_ … I’m sorry, I need to take this … I’m sorry … ”

The call connected and he held the speaker to his ear as her eyes fell and her arms moved to shield her curves from him. _Shit._

“Hello?”  

> “Mr. Quin?” It was a deep, unfamiliar feminine voice. The question was almost accusatory.

“Yes?”  

> “Is this Mr. Quin?”

“Yes. This is _Mr. Quin_.” Elaine brought her legs up to the island, pulling herself into a ball as she pointed to the crumpled robe on the counter beside the fridge. The glass cracked as he stepped across it, snatching the clothing and handing it to her as the woman mumbled in his ear.  

> “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you or your wife for a while now, Mr. Quin. We been trying your home phone as well as both of your cells.”

“You’ve clearly gotten ahold of me, haven’t you?” He did not appreciate the lecturing tone of the woman. “I’m actually quite busy right now. Is there something that I can help you with?” He wasn’t normally so _rushed_ , but …  

> “Well yes. This is concerning _your daughter_ … Sarah. There’s been a bit of an incident this morning.”

Alex pinched his eyes shut as he sighed into the phone. “What is it? What on _Earth_ has she done now?”  

> “We’re going to need you to come down so that we can address the situation as soon as possible.”

“Are you serious? Right now?!” He met Elaine’s eyes and his face contorted with annoyance as she meekly put the robe back on, pulling it tight across her body. “Can this wait? Can you just tell me–”  

> “Mr. Quin, Sarah’s new so I would _love_ to give her the benefit of the doubt before we get the authorities involved.”

“Authorities?” He choked on the word. “What are you–”  

> “Either you will need to come down to sort this mess out, or we will just have to call the police to handle it for you.”

“Police?” Alex gasped. This was clearly a threat. The woman was manipulating him. “No. No. _No_. Please. That won’t be necessary. That …” He pinched his eyes shut. “I’ll be right there.”  

> “We take _drugs_ on campus very seriously. And that’s _not_ considering the _act_ that your daughter was caught performing on another _well behaved_ student.”

Oh good gods. He bent his head to the side, cracking his neck as he accepted the words, anger flooding over him. “I’ll be there in twenty.”  

> “I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Quin. Perhaps we can use this opportunity to discuss some parenting advice that you might benefit from.”

Rather than retort back at the unpleasant woman, he hung the phone up and stared at the disheveled woman before him. She watched without a word as he buttoned his shirt, tucked it into his pants and retrieved his tie from the floor. “I’m so sorry … I need to go. I need take care of this … I …”

“Yeah. Ok. It’s cool.” She shrugged, looking down at the ground to try and gauge a spot without glass for her to step onto. “You have _responsibilities_.”

 

* * *

 

He was on the ground floor when his phone rang and he stared at his wife’s incoming call for a number of ring before he answered it. “Hello?”

He heard her melodic voice and he pinched his eyes shut in shame. “Alex? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to Sarah’s school. They called me–”

“No, you are not. I’m heading there now. _You_ should be heading to your _interview_!”

“What? Even if I leave right now, there’s no way I can make it in time. I think Sarah’s school is more import–” What in the hell did this woman want from him?! Should he _not_ be responsible like she wished? And besides, there was simply no way he would get there on time. He was already late as it was and he was _covered_ in creamer.

“It’s fine.” She interrupted him immediately. “I said I’ve got the school. I’ve already let Peter know you’re running late due to a personal problem. He’s expecting you _now_.”

 

* * *

 

**[Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) - Marilyn Manson](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3D0bXrSv7O73vOaGOG8J9c&t=NTI0OTM3ZGUzNWMwNGEyMzkyMTYwNjZlYjBmYjk5NDE5ZmVmYzBkMSxpdDlDbVcycw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173432584143%2Fchapter-126-damnation&m=1) **

> _Sweet dreams are made of this_
> 
> _Who am I to disagree_
> 
> _Travel the world and the seven seas_
> 
> _Everybody is looking for something_
> 
> _Some of them want to use you_
> 
> _Some of them want to get used by you_
> 
> _Some of them want to abuse you_
> 
> _Some of them want to be abused._

“Alexander Quin?” He wore a suit not very different from Alex’s and he called out to the waiting room while standing next to the receptionist’s desk. A portly middle-aged man, quite a bit shorter than him.

“Yes.” Alex stood. “Hello. It’s just Alex.” He offered him a hand and the man stared at his beaten face for a moment before shrugging and accepting the shake firmly.

“Peter.” The man smiled fakely as he eyes danced over the dried white spots _all over_ Alex’s clothing. It was sprinkled over his black jacket, his black pants, and dark striped tie. Alex smiled meekly. “I apologize for the … “ What should he say? _Mess_? _Cream_? Oh no, definitely don’t say _cream_. “There was a bit of a _coffee_ incident this morning.”

“O.K.” Peter shrugged. Obviously he didn’t care one bit. “Follow me then.” 

The man navigated them through the sea of cubicles, leading him to the back wall where there was an empty meeting room, that lacked all privacy as its walls were entirely glass. After the door was shut and both men were seated comfortably, the man pulled out a stack of papers and pushed them across the table to Alex. He then plucked a pen from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

“What is this?” Alex looked down at the paperwork before him. The first paper was some type of government form. It said “W-4” in large letters across the top.

“It’s your new employee paperwork.” The man seemed somewhat confused by the question. “I know the stack seems daunting, but everyone has to go through it. Then we’ll begin orientation. It’ll be boring, but it’s standard pract–”

“Orientation?” Alex tilted his head at the word. “I apologize, but I was told this was an _interview_?”

“Interview?” From the tone of the question, obviously this was _not_ the case. “Oh … no, Mr. Quin. Sorry. I thought you _accepted_ the offer we made?”

“Offer?” Alex felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “What … _offer_?”

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat. “I believe it was sent yesterday. Let me …” He stood and headed towards the door. “Let me check on that.”

Alex was alone and he stared around at the sterile room before he looked down at the mountain of paperwork and suddenly, he felt stifled. It took every ounce of control he had to stay seated and the man returned promptly, holding a sealed Fedex envelope in his hand.

He seated himself, adjusted his tie, and handed the packet over. “Sorry about that. I thought this was sent out yesterday, but Sally went home early. There’s a flu going around the office.”

Alex peeled the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He read it carefully, his eyes focusing on the amount more than anything else. _Jesus_. He went back over the letter and read every single word carefully again and then one more time.

“If it’s not what you were expecting … I’m sure we can work out the details.” The man sat back in the chair as he smiled.

“Not what I was … _expecting_?” Alex read it again, focusing on the number once more. Was that real? That was at least triple what he was making in London, and London is an _expensive_ city … and …

“What do you think, Mr. Quin?” The man folded his fingers together and leaned towards him over the conference table. “Do you think you’re _Morning Star Incorporated_ material?”

Alex looked up and stared at the man while the voice in the back of his mind chimed in, as it snorted loudly over the name of the company.  

> _Of course … his narcissism truly knows no bounds._

If Alex had been alone, he would have asked the voice who ‘he’ was, but something deep down urged him _not to ask_. Some truths are best left unknown … are they not?  

> _This is no different than the food they have offered._

“I …”  

> _It is a trap. An enticement. It is not real. It is what they do._

“I’m not supposed to say this but … That’s the biggest offer I’ve ever seen this department make to an incoming hire. You must have impressed someone important.”  

> _They seek to placate you._

“I’m sorry, but I don’t deserve this …” Ana did this. None of this was _him_. None of this was because of _him_.  

> _None of this is real. They tease you. They seek to tease_ **_us_**.

“It also comes with the standard management perks. You’ll have six weeks of vacation, full healthcare, retirement package, and then there’s the sign-on bonus, stock opt–”  

> _To offer you everything they_ **_think_** _you desire. But we both know this isn’t it, is it?_

“It’s quite a large sum …” Alex cut him off as he set the letter down, staring at the title: _Senior Editorial Supervisor: Media Relations_. He glanced around, through the glass walls of the meeting room and over the sea of cubicles in the massive room beyond.  

> _Wake up, you fool. We are_ **_more_** _than this._

“It is. And all you have to do is … just sign on the bottom line. Then you can fill out the paperwork while I run it to HR.” The man pointed to the horizontal line at the bottom of the page. He picked up the pen and twisted its casing clockwise, exposing the writing tip before he handed it to Alex.  

> _Have you really forgotten? Have you?_

He accepted the writing utensil, but as his finger grazed the man’s, everything shifted, just as it had done in Cora’s apartment. For just a fraction of a second, the portly man who sat before him had eyes of fire, a head of twisted horns, and a mouth full of yellow fangs. Though he was now just a man again, his overtly sinister smile remained. “All you have to do is _sign_ , Mr. Quin, and you can have it all.”  

> _We are the Master of our fate …_

Alex set the pen down and touched the white spots on his tie. He pinched his eyes shut and took a deep and _relaxing_ breath before he unbuttoned his top button and then pulled the noose from his neck, setting it on the table next to the offer as he smiled and stood confidently.

“Mr. Quin? Where are you–” The man-creature called after him as he approached the door and Alex spun, his smile widening even further as he threw his arms out to his sides.

“ _Sorry, mate. But_ **_I_** _am the captain of_ **_my_** _soul_.” 

He didn’t wait for any response and he was halfway across the sea of cubicles and almost to the elevator before he heard the man calling after him. He was fully in the elevator when he _saw_ the man one final time. As the doors shut, he saw the _red_ return to the thing’s irises and Alex smiled one last time, bringing his hand up in a ‘V’ shape, using his index and middle finger. The meaning of this in America was ‘peace’, however to the British, and most specifically how Alex intended it here, it meant quite the opposite.

He used the time riding down to open the cached phone list in his email and find her on the sheet. His fingers trembled as he typed in the number, putting the phone to his ear as he stepped out into the lobby and moved quickly to the exit. It had been a long ride here and he needed to get back _home_ as quickly as possible. He should have never left.

The call rang and rang and then _stopped_ ringing. No voicemail picked up and he stared at the screen with confusion. He re-dialed and again, was greeted with ringing and then silence. _Shit_. Perhaps she didn’t know it was him? He doubted that assumption and he _knew_ he shouldn’t have left earlier

_Damnation._

Stepping out to the street, there wasn’t a bloody taxi in site and he cursed lowly under his breath again. It took him a number of moments to find the texting mechanism in the phone and he clumsily typed in a message with his large fingers:  

> **_This is Alex. Please call me back. I need to see you._ **

The moment he slid the device into his pant pocket, he heard the chime of an incoming text and he pulled it back out as quickly as possible, his face contorting with disappointment as he read the unexpected message.  

> **_Ana wants us to make up. Are you free this afternoon? – Ron_ **

_Fuck_.

 

* * *

 

The little rubber ball flew at his head and he side stepped it quickly, bringing his little racket up at the perfect angle to send the globe bouncing back towards the wall, ricocheting and hurling back towards Ron. The man’s face looked just as bad as Alex’s, but his damage was centered to his nose and eyes only.

All in all, racketball it hadn’t been a terrible idea on Ron’s part and he welcomed the physical exertion. Using the situation to vent the stresses of the day out violently on the little rubber ball felt quite good in fact. Although, he did find the professional business attire slightly confining for the game. This gave Ron a distinct advantage over him as Alex’s dress shoes slipped on the gym flooring with any exaggerated movement, but even so, the score was evenly matched.

“I’m really not sure what came over me last night.” Ron spoke as he swung the racket with a backhand blow, sending the ball back to Alex. “Sorry about that.”

“Not sure?” Alex chuckled. “Come on now. You were _peacocking_.”

“Was not!” The protest was weak and Ron knew it. “Sorry.”

“I thought you two were _just_ friends anyways.”

“We are!” Ron struck the ball, grunting as he did. “For now _anyways_. I’m workin’ on it.”

“Working on _what_ exactly?” Alex should feel shame about everything, but at the moment, he was uncontrollably jealous and he just went with it. “

“I dunno yet.” Ron sighed. “I’ve never had someone _refuse_ me so _profusely_. You don’t think she’s a _prude_ … do you?”

Flashes of Elaine’s kitchen counter skipped across Alex’s mind and his eyes grew wide. The taste and texture of her nipple was incredibly poignant in his mind as he answered his cousin-in-law’s question with a flat out lie. “It’s quite possible. She seems very …” He recalled her fingers running through his hair and her tongue. Oh lord … _her tongue_. Then he recalled her biting into his lip savagely. “ _Reserved_. I don’t know … it seems like a risk.” He hit the ball incredibly hard to distract his memory.

“A risk?” Ron asked as he swung wildly, missing the ball. He cursed as the point went to Alex.

“Rome.” Alex said matter of factly. “I overheard you last night.”

“Oh. That.” Embarrassment washed over Ron’s face and he shrugged as he threw the ball up to serve it. “Too impulsive? Fortune favors the bold, my friend!”

Alex hit the ball back, slipping across the ground as he lunged. “I mean … it’s _four months_ … you don’t even know each other.”

“I know her. It’s been six months.” The man protested. “I mean, I know her better than _you_ do.”

“And if she’s a _prude_?” Alex pushed. “Will you be _celibate_ for four months? I know you … you’ll get it where you can and where will that leave _your friendship_? That’ll make for an unnecessarily awkward trip.”

“I’m very confused here, Alex.” Ron slammed the ball back towards him. “Who’s side are you on here? And when have _you_ ever been an advocate for … _friendship_. I know you. I remember _Uni_.”

“Yeah well …” Alex returned the ball, barely tapping it and forcing Ron to dive forward to catch it as it dribbled across the ground weakly. “She’s _our_ neighbor … and that’s entirely _your_ fault. I’d rather not have to deal with the drama should you grow bored of your _new toy_. The city is _full_ of women that don’t live next door to _us_.”

“No. It won’t be like that. I don’t see her like that. She’s not just … a conquest …” Ron struck the projectile back, shaking his head. He seemed confused by his own words. “She’s _different_. I don’t know how to explain it … she’s … _I feel responsible for her_. I don’t know … I … I think she might be _the one_.”

“What?” Alex coughed as he swung around to gauge the seriousness on Ron’s face and the ball flew by him. That point went to Ron. “The one? Good lord, man. You’ve _never_ been one to settle down. Is this just a mid-life crisis thing?”

“I … I don’t know.” Ron sighed as Alex served and the dance of the game began again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel like I need to _take care of her_. I can’t shake it. It’s my …” The sentence trailed off and Alex swung wildly, remembering the rich smell of her hair and the ball flew by him again. Another point to Ron.

“ _Fucking hell._ ” Alex cursed lowly as he retrieved the little object. “I just think … maybe you should consider taking things _slowly_.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ron spun the racket in his hand and took a deep stance, preparing for Alex’s serve. “ _Or you might be right … maybe I just need to shag the shit out of her to get it out of my system._ ”

There was a laugh that followed Ron’s statement and Alex’s nose furrowed as he threw the ball up, intentionally hitting it at the perfect angle to send it hurling towards his ‘cousin’. His anger over the words was expressed in the force behind the serve and he was certain he hit it with more speed and power than he even thought _possible_. He surprised himself and obviously Ron wasn’t expecting it either.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you.” Alex smiled at the smoothie lady as she handed him the small pile of napkins and a cup of ice. He sauntered back to the other side of the gym’s lobby where Ron was sitting, his head tilted up and his right hand pinching the very top of his nose bridge. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but small trickles still made their way from _each_ nostril. A noticeable pile of red soaked napkins adorned the small side table to his right.

“Here.” Alex offered the napkins and ice. Ron snatched the napkins from his hand with disdain, pushing them against his bleeding face. The man’s eyes and nose had already been substantially bruised from the night before and now the damage was clearly much worse. If it wasn’t broken before, it definitely was now. Alex bit back a sinister smirk, uttering the next words as seriously as he could. “So sorry about that. Was a good serve, wasn’t it?”

“ _You know you’re a fucking cunt, right?_ ”

 

* * *

 

“How was your day?” Ana pressed and he poked at the warm food on his plate, pushing around the morsels and the machines that crawled all over then. He ignored his wife entirely. The child had refused to come out of her room, imposing a _grounding_ on herself and so the two of them sat alone at the table. He should ask about what occurred at her school. He should embrace his responsibilities, but he didn’t really care and he didn’t ask. “How was Morning Star? How did you like the building? It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” 

He poked at the swirled pasta and stared blankly at the plate before he pulled his phone out of his pocket again and checked for any notifications. _None_. He had sent quite a few more messages since this afternoon and still, he was met with silence. The same occured when he rang her doorbell earlier.

 _Nothing_.

“Did they give you a tour? What did you think of it? Did they show you the gym? It’s quite amazing.”

 _Silence_. It plagued him. In a way he couldn’t fully grasp. It wasn’t just the need to talk about what had occurred, but her absolute silence worried him. All manner of bad thoughts had jumped across his mind, and even now, as he wife questioned him about his day, all he could think about what his peculiar little neighbour and her whereabouts. He hoped nothing bad might have happened.

“Alex?  Have you talked to Sarah yet?  I think you should hear it from her.

His head was foggy and he didn’t wish to pretend anymore. Standing, he left his untouched plate and headed towards the bedroom.

"Alex? You’re not going to eat?” He heard her voice from behind. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’m not hungry … _anymore_.” Once he was at the door to the room, he turned and looked at her _lovely_ face but he found nothing particularly lovely about it. It was sterile. Perfect. _Boring_. “I’m going to wash up.” 

He peeled the clothes off as if he was in a trance, never looking up to the mirror because he _knew_ that creature would stare back. He could see his black coat out of the corner of his eye as he stepped into the glass blocked enclosed shower. He hadn’t cleaned himself since _it_ had happened and he paused before the shower knobs, staring down at his body. Instead of washing himself off, instead of washing _her_ off, he stepped back out and pulled his underwear back on. He flicked off the lights and crawled into bed.

“I thought you were going to shower? You’re already in bed? It’s only 8.” She said at some point, but it didn’t matter, because his head was buried into the pillow, his phone sneakily clutched against his chest, and he ignored her. His mind was already floating and swaying, dancing with the possibility of sleep and everything blurred around him.

**[Rise Up - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1LXJ2gYrOK0DRRgkl5xbWi%3Fsi%3DHpNzkE13Q_aANVU_H0brpA&t=MTUxMzUxNGY2OTg1OWQzNjc0ZTMzMjQyNjc1MzVjNWM1ZTdkZDEyYyxpdDlDbVcycw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173432584143%2Fchapter-126-damnation&m=1) **

> _Rise up_
> 
> _Made to be legends_
> 
> _If there’s a shadow hanging over our fate_
> 
> _We won’t forget that deep inside we’re the same_
> 
> _And we’re hard to stop_
> 
> _We’re hard to stop_

He woke abruptly, sitting up in bed with a jolt. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but everything was dark and quiet, his wife snoring quietly on the other side of the bed. Checking the phone immediately, he found it was half passed three already, but had no notifications.

 _Nothing_.

One more message was sent and he stared at it, waiting for the ‘Sending…’ text to vanish.  

> **_Where are you? Are you alright? Please answer._ **

He stared at it for a number of seconds before he slipped out of bed and stepped out onto the balcony. Leaning over the railing, he tried to see if there was light emanating from her flat, but he could see nothing.

 _Damnation_. He should have never left. What was he thinking? What was he–  

> _You were not thinking. You were feeling. Responsibility is a wicked weapon to wield against the righteous._

“I don’t know what to do now …”  

> _They manipulated us with the only thing they could think of._

“And what do you think I should have done?” Alex asked his inner dialogue. “Sarah needed–”  

> _She is_ **_not_** _our daughter. She is a puppet string._

He didn’t like the thought of that. Nope. He had memories of her. He had _love_ for her.  

> _She is_ **_not_** _the daughter we loved. Wake up._

Alex leaned over the railing again and bit his lower lip hard enough for the scab to tear slightly. He deserved the pain of it and he looked back to the phone. “Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.”  

> _What are you waiting for?_

“Waiting for?” Alex laughed. “I’ve tried to call her several times. What do you want me to do? Stand outside of her door until she opens it?” He snorted at the absurdity of the thought.  

> _She pushes us away with good reason. It is now our turn to prove our worth._

“Prove it? What do you want me to do?” He laughed again and the wind blew across his face. It blew in the direction of her apartment. It blew and dust billowed up from the four inch wide, four foot long ledge that spanned their two balconies. 

> _We promised_ **_him_** _that we would prove our worth to her._

“Promised … _who_?” He swallowed hard as the wind died entirely and he knew what the voice was encouraging him to do. “Wait … what? No. NO.”  

> _Prove our worth._

He stepped back from the railing and shook his head. “Nope. You are _mad_. I guess that means _I’m_ mad. I guess so if I’m really–”  

> _Coward_.

Everything went silent and Alex took a deep breath, glancing one last time at his phone, desperate to see an update, but found none. He slid it into his pocket and approached the railing again.

“ _Fuck my life._ ” Gripping the metal, he climbed over and sat on it for a moment, staring down the twenty seven floors to the road below. He thought he would be terrified, but his body felt energized and his heart rate didn’t even skip a beat as he inched over to the side and slid down onto the ledge, his back firmly against building. He didn’t even need to close his eyes as he shuffled along.

He was already halfway across the distance and the only concern that plagued him was the wind. If a sudden burst caught a hold of him … _but he knew, somehow he knew, that would not be a problem_.

He was across the four foot length and he was pulling himself over her railing as he smiled, pride flowing through him as he dusted himself off and gave one fleeting glance back over the railing, still not feeling an ounce of fear for the height.

“Absolutely incredible.”

Reaching for her patio door, he hoped he wouldn’t find it locked and he didn’t. Of course not. Why would _anyone_ lock their patio door on the twenty seventh floor? He quietly pushed rolled the glass door open and stepped into the dark flat. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I do? Was it worth the wait?


	113. 12.7 - Damnation

**[Fear of the Water - SYML](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3xn7cwof2Srt3CRjvLfrXa%3Fsi%3DjAQcGbiNS2CxCI-v-Kpl0g&t=YjFlNmM4OTA5MTk0ZTBiM2Q1YmM4ZjA4NDdjOTc0ZWFjNmMxYjA5ZSxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) **

> _You’re dislocated, don’t be like that_
> 
> _And you smile when you dive in, like you’re never coming back_
> 
> _So hold my body, yeah, hold my breath_
> 
> _See your face when I blackout, I’m never coming back_

The loft was dark but his eyes adjusted quickly and he found it a frantic mess. Even more so than it was this morning, with items strewn about everywhere. More paintings. More canvas. A pungent smell of dried paints wafted through the space and stung his nostrils. He moved swiftly to the far archway, tip toeing with ninja-like stealth towards an opening that he _knew_ led to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but as he stepped into the _other_ room, he even already _knew_ exactly what it would look like.

Open and sparse, the bedroom was organized, unlike the chaos of the living area. A large, wide dresser was in the middle of the wall adjacent to the door and a king-size, platform bed was in the middle of the opposite wall. He breathed relief as he spied a breathing lump of a tiny person nestled within its dark sheets. She was there and she was _fine_. Safe. He smiled as the suffocation of worry melted away, but then he realized what this meant. She _had_ actually been ignoring him then.

 _Oh gods._ He should go now. What happened was … _It was …_ He should …

 _We came here to just look upon her? Though I do not fault us for such a simple pleasure, I do not think we should waste this …_ **_opportunity_**.

That incessant, internal rattling voice questioned his motives and he had no idea why he had risked his life to break into her apartment. But the creature posed a valid question. Did he really just risk everything to look upon her? Alright, Alex. This was now _bordering_ on _creepy_. He sneaked closer. Close enough to see the details of her face, rationalizing that this was only to make certain it was actually _her_. But even now, as he stared down upon the sleeping woman, frozen by his own doubt, he wasn’t sure what his plan had _ever_ been.

_Clearly, he didn’t have one at all._

He might have retreated back across the ledge. He might have fled from this awkward situation. He might have done a number of things but something caught his attention, giving him the excuse to linger. Her phone blinked conspicuously from the nightstand, pulsing in the darkness and he stared the little LED light, urging himself to let it go, but his curiosity was irrevocably piqued.

Perhaps she _hadn’t_ gotten his messages after all? He _hoped_ … Maybe it was a misunderstanding? _No. What the hell was he doing? He should go. He should really go._

Alex picked up the phone and was greeted by a lockscreen. _Damnation_. He should have expected that. He was about to return the phone to the table and the voice chimed in with _four_ numbers and Alex hesitated a moment. 

> _It is the_ **_date_**.

Did he delay trying the combination out of _fear_ or was it out of _discomfort_? He doubted it would work. How could he possibly know her passcode? Could he have seen her use it the other day? As he tapped it in and the screen _unlocked_ , his eyes pinched shut and tiny bumps flooded across his skin. 

> _It is … our date._

At _this_ moment, if he could speak freely, he would have asked: ‘ _what date?_ ’, but that would have woken her and he digressed. Refocusing on the small device, he quickly pulled the notification bar down and saw that the blinking was due to an unread text from his _goddamn_ cousin. 

> **_Be in the lobby at 9 sharp. A car will be waiting for you. x – Ron_ **

That … fucking … _twat_.

There was no hesitation in his next act. Alex’s lip curled up in fury as he hit the delete button. After the message vanished, he was taken to the Messaging Apps landing page. She clearly didn’t talk to many people as the screen only showed three numbers total. Ron’s, his, and someone with only two initials: EL. _Hmmm._

Who the hell was EL? Unable to resist, he tapped on the conversation and scrolled through _pages_ of messages that she had sent to this _person_ , but they had never responded. All of the messages, dozens of them, had a tone of annoyance.

  * _Where are you?_
  * _Why aren’t you answering?_
  * _You think this is funny, you fucker?_
  * _You promised me._



He read them all in reverse order until he came to the first once sent. The date matching the first time he had seen her in the elevator and Alex stared at the strangeness of it.

  * _Did you send_ **_him_**?



Him? _Him_? Who the hell was–

She stirred in the bed and his attention rocked back to the task at hand. He swiped back to _his_ messages. They had clearly been read and a deep sigh escaped at this revelation. It wasn’t a loud sigh, by any means, but she stirred again at the sound and _her_ eyes opened.

_Shit._

She recoiled with such violence that Alex also jumped at her shock. Dropping the phone, he clutched at his own chest as he took a step backwards from the bed. Her reaction might have just been because a stranger was standing next to her bed, staring down at her _while_ she slept, but he was certain the ominous lighting emanating up from device, shining on his face in the utter darkness, definitely hadn’t helped her fright.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!” Scrambling away from him, she was off of the bed already, her back against the far wall and her pillow clutched against her chest like a shield. Her face contorted, trying to make out the figure in the darkness as she continued to inch away. “Boy, did you break into the _wrong_ pla–”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” She was still backing across the wall and his arms went out, waving frantically towards her as she flicked on the light switch next to the bathroom entrance.

“Alex?!?” Her spotted face scrunched furiously as she looked upon him, squinting painfully through the sudden onslaught of light. He forced a smile and waved with a single hand while she approached him hesitantly. Once she was within reach, she struck him with the pillow across the arm. “What the hell are you doing?!? YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME DUDE!”

“I’m … I …” He glanced around, his face flushed with embarrassment and he spun, noticing the two large suitcases near the dresser and everything suddenly grew painfully serious. “Sorry.”

“Wait, how did you …” She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his dark pajama pants and white, button up pajama shirt. Her brows furrowed in billowing confusion. “How did you get in here?”

“I …” He swallowed, scratching the back of his head. Should he lie? How on Earth could he possibly lie? He was certain her front door was _still_ locked. Her suspicious eyes watched him as he surrendered to the truth of his breakin. “ _The balcony._ ” Her mouth dropped open slightly, her eyes widening as he tried to feign an innocent smile again. “You didn’t lock your balcony door. I–”

“The … _balcony_? You … What?! You walked across the ledge!?! What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!” Her mouth dropped further and she hit him again with the pillow. “Oh my god!” She was clearly angry and she had every right to be. She hit him once more time with the pillow and he took hold of the useless weapon, pulling it from her grip to prevent the action again. He tossed it back to the bed without tearing his eyes from hers. “That was … _dangerous_. _What were you thinking_?” It was no longer anger. It was _worry_ and this gave him _hope_.

“I was … _worried_.” He confessed without shame. “You weren’t answering and … I … I thought something bad might have happened. I … _I’m sorry_. I didn’t intend to scare you. I didn’t …” He scratched his head again as he sheepishly chuckled the next bit. “To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what I _meant_ to do. I wasn’t really _thinking_ , I guess. I’m _sorry_.”

This was the first time he had gotten a chance to take her in and the fact that she was just wearing an oversized shirt. Her nipples showed through the thin cotton as hard peaks and he glanced away from the observation that she was without a bra. _Shit_. _Focus, Alex. Focus_.

“You need to go.” She spied his intrusive eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now.”

“I …” He swallowed. “You didn’t answer me all day. I was …” Hmmm. Perhaps he should have planned out what to say ahead of time. The way her face contorted with annoyance wasn’t helping him focus and he felt even more exposed than she was, even though he was the only one wearing pants. “ _I’m sorry_.”

“For breaking into my apartment? Damn right you are. I could have _seriously_ hurt you!”

He had to force himself to remain serious when a giggle nearly broke free as she _threatened_ him. “No. That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry about _this morning_.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have _left_ like I did.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, you _should_ have. You’re a _father_. You have a _daughter_. You have respon–”

“I don’t care. That doesn’t matter!” Ooooof. That wasn’t exactly true and nor was it what he _should_ have said, if he had time to parse his words before they flew from his heart without restraint. “I mean … that’s not what I meant.” _Oh good gods._

“You need to go now.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes as he tried to steer the conversation away from _his family_. He felt like such a bloody scoundrel right now, but once he opened his eyes to her again, he didn’t care one single bit. “We should talk about what happened. Please.”

“What happened?” She laughed. “What happened was a mistake.”

“Please don’t say that.” He had been so very worried that she would say _that_. Each text he sent, he dreaded that _that_ would be the response and now his insides cringed as his insecurities came to fruition. “I really don’t _feel_ it was a mistake.”

**[Ancient Light - Allman Brown](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4T8FoNHY3UZSYgOV76ueVU%3Fsi%3DtxTdpm7qSVmbizbRSMzmAA&t=OWExODMwNTM5MTFmZjk4MGY1YTEwZDMzNzhjYzI3NjhhYmY3OGRkYyxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) **

> _Ghosts_
> 
> _Their voices are resting_
> 
> _In your bones_
> 
> _And the river of time_
> 
> _Love is all that’s left to lose_
> 
> _Love is all that’s left to lose_
> 
> _Lust, love, I’m not alone anymore_
> 
> _Lust, love, I’m not alone anymore_
> 
> **_This ancient light_ **

“But it was…”

“No.” Alex reached for her arm and she stepped back. “You wouldn’t be saying this if I hadn’t _left_.”

“Yes I would.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s O.K. It’s not your fault. None of this is _your_ fault.” It was his turn to step back and she didn’t follow him in his retreat. She stood solemnly, gripping her hands in front of her as she tried to explain her shame. “It’s not your fault you’re _here_. It’s mine. I’m _sorry_.”

“Your _fault_?” He squinted at the absurdity of her words. “What on Earth are you–”

“This _isn’t_ real.” She pointed between them. “You just don’t realize that yet. But don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. None of _this_ is–”

“But Ron is real?” Alex laughed. His anger verbally expressed as he snorted his cousin’s name. “He’s an _arsehole_. Trust me. I _know_ him.”

“But that’s just it. You don’t know him. Not _really_. It’s not–”

“What are you bloody on about?” He scoffed at her statements. “I’ve known him for far _longer_ than you and yes, he’s quite an _arsehole_. He’ll just _use_ you.”

“Whatever you remember, _Alex_ , he’s not _really_ like that.” She took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t matter, because he’s _my responsibility_ , just like _your family_ is yours.”

“Your _responsibility_?” He chuckled at the thought of it. Ron could definitely take care of himself. “Trust me, he’s a grown man and he doesn’t–”

“He’s more _real_ than …” Her eyes scrutinized _him_ and Alex felt indescribably exposed. “I mean, he’s more like _me_ than …” She didn’t even believe her own words and his lip curled up furiously. “ _He’s my_ **_responsibility_**.”

“You don’t _love_ him.” Alex stated it as fact. There was no doubt in his tone. His belief in those words were absolute and unwavering. “It’s obvious.”

“Love?” She mocked the word, almost _laughing_ at it. “ _Love_?” She repeated it with bitter animosity. “And what?” She pointed at him and then to herself and then back to him again. “You think _this_ is love? I don’t even _know_ you.”

“I don’t know what _this_ is.” He put considerable emphasis on the word _this_ , pressing his tongue against his teeth as he hissed it. “I don’t know what _we_ are.” He was quick to respond, but he didn’t really believe his own words. He did know. He was certain of it. “But I _know_ you don’t want him. You’ve refused him for _six months_.”

“What do _you_ know? You don’t know what’s happened between us.” She seemed almost insulted by his accusation, but he could only smile, knowing what Ron had disclosed to him that very afternoon. That _nothing_ had occurred between them. _Nothing_. Not even a kiss, much to Ron’s dismay. Even after six months of his cousin’s unrelenting pursuit. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything. But it doesn’t matter because … ” She took a breath, looking away from him as she spoke. “I don’t love _you_ either, _Alex_. Or don’t you get that yet?”

“Get it?” His lips curled with annoyance. “Get what? Explain to me … _Explain it to me like I’m five_.”

“You think its _you_?! You think _this_ … is because of _you_?” She breathed deeply. “It’s because … _you remind me of_ **_him_**.”

“No.” _Yes_. He knew this was _fact_ , and yet, somehow, even in the midst of his impressive pride, he wasn’t insulted in any way. “It doesn’t matter.” _It did matter and he was strangely glad_. “I don’t care.” _He did care_. He just didn’t comprehend why yet. He stepped forward and she pulled back, trying to flee. Trying to _run_. _No_. He gripped her arms and turned her back to face him. “ _I don’t care_.”

“I do!” She jerked herself from his hands and took several deep steps, backing away from him. “I _do_ care. It’s **_fucked_** up … it’s unacceptable. It’s …”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t _care_.”

“That is _messed_ up. Why don’t you care?!” He couldn’t answer that question. “You think its ok that when I look at you … _I only see him_. It’s torture.”

“ _I don’t_ **_care_**.” He wasn’t sure why his pride wasn’t kicking him in the balls right now. In fact, this confession only made him want to stay even more. In fact, this confession only helped to solidify his blossoming affection. “As long as _you are looking_ at me … _I don’t care why_.”

“Why?” She couldn’t grasp his determination. Shaking her head at his foolish words, he could tell that she felt sorry for him. “You’re a _nice guy_.” _Hmmmmm._ This was the _second_ time she gave him that title and he hated it now as much as he had the first time she used it. “You deserve _better_ than that. You deserve _better_ than someone … _like me_.”

“Why?” He repeated her question. “Because … what happened in there.” He pointed towards the kitchen. “I _felt_ it. I … “ He touched his chest, pointing to his sternum before he next pointed to hers. “I _know_ you felt it too. I _know_ you–”

“What happened in there? You mean when we were _fucking_?” Her lower lip quivered with the words. “In my head, Alex, I wasn’t fucking _you_ … I was _fucking_ him.” Her hands flew to her mouth and she covered it with shame. “I was imagining **_him_**.”

These words hit him like a primal blow. All at once, every bit of air was expelled from his lungs and his entire body ached. The pain flooded all of his extremities and then consolidated into the pit of his stomach. He was certain he might wretch all over her clean floor as the agony prevented him from taking a breath.

Had he ever felt _anything_ so torturous before? _Oh gods …_  

> _These are just words._

“ _I’m sorry_.” His face contorted and she read the anguish she had caused. “I’m no different than _he_ was. I used you to feel _something_ … just like he used me. I had no right. I’m so sorry.” 

> _She seeks to drive us away.  As we once did to her ... at_ **_any_** _cost …_

She stepped forward and he found himself unable to move, even as she condescendingly gripped his arm, trying to console him in an incredibly patronizing way. Finally, he forced a single word out. “No.”

“Alex–”

“No.” He spoke again and anger replaced his torment. Jerking his arms out of her grip in a childish fit, he thrust his lower lip out in a pout. He knew he was being a child. He had _no right_ to act this way, but that didn’t stop his fit from continuing. The only thing he was missing now was to stamp his feet. He would, at the very least, hold _that_ urge back. Instead, he shook his head back and forth, refusing her. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

“ _You need to go._ ”

“No.” He took another step backwards, glancing to the side, at the two large suitcases and he shook his head again. Refusing it. Protesting it. “Nope.” The word was firm and immature and he didn’t care a single bit. He wasn’t going. In fact, he considered taking the suitcases and chucking them off the balcony if she argued further.

“You’re happy, _Alex_. Why would you want to mess that up? For someone like m–”

“Don’t change the sub–” The verbal argument continued as they swiftly interrupted each other.

“You have a _family_. You have a … _beautiful wife_ and a _beautiful daughter_ and–”

“Don’t use _them_ as an excuse to push me away.”

“What the fuck?! Use them to push you away? You’re _MARRIED_!” Her voice raised sharply. He quickly brought his index finger to his lips, to encourage her to quiet. _Thin walls_. _Thin walls_. But he regretted the action as that actually disproved what he was _just_ trying to convey to her. She watched him glanced back towards his apartment and she shook her head. “ _Exactly_. See what I mean.”

“No.”

“ _Please_. This isn’t about _you_. It’s not about _you_.” Her voice trembled delicately. “I need to let _him_ go … Just like he let _me_ go.” It took every ounce of her control to not burst into tears and he hoped she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to handle that. “Everytime I look at you, I see hi–”

“ _Let_ you go? I thought you said he died?” He wasn’t intending to catch her in a lie, but it didn’t make sense to him, until he uttered the question out loud and her lips pursed shut, unable to answer. And then the tears did flow, welling up immediately as he answered his own question. “He took his own life?”

_Oh gods._

“I wasn’t _enough_ for him to stay.” Her arms crossed and she gripped her own biceps as her nose began to run. “Please go home, Alex.” She wiped the snot and tears away with the back of her hand, her words were nearly gibberish behind the crying. “Go back to your _beautiful wife_ and _daughter_. Go back to your _perfect_ life and _your perfect_ family. I’m done breaking. I just want to _heal_ now.”

“I … don’t … ” He didn’t want it. He didn’t want that … _anymore_. Or possibly _ever_. And who defines _perfect_? What does that word even mean? Did she mean it to describe _boring_? Because that’s all he saw awaiting him on the other side of that thin wall. “No. NO. Let me show you how I’m different. Let me show you why _I’m not him_. Let me–”

“This morning, you _said_ to send you away … You _said_ to ask you to leave. So I am …”

“That was before–” He regretted his words. He _regretted_ leaving as he had. He regretted many things right now and he wished to explain himself, but she interrupted him. Damn her _defiance_.

“Go.” She pointed towards the living area. “Go home, Alex.”

“No.” He shrugged off her words. He ignored her commands. He refused her rejection. “No.” He approached her again. _Unyielding_. _Unrelenting_. **_Unconquerable_**.

Her words had definitely torn at his insides. They clawed and bit savagely at his beating heart, and yet, on some level, he found them _motivating_. On some strange level, he found them _relieving_. And on the most important level, because of _them_ , because of why she wished to reject him, he was inspired to _stay_. How selfish was this? Was it self-loathing or was it simply his ridiculous and unyielding confidence that caused her honest confession to give him … _hope_.

“What’s wrong with you?” She sniffled and pouted. Pointing at the door again, she stepped away from him. “Why can’t you just take _the hint_?”

“I’ve always been a bit pig-headed.” He smiled as he halved the distance between them. “It’s how I was _made_.” He stole the last sentence from the old woman down the hall and it felt wickedly accurate.

“I said no. Alex … _no_.” She retreated, but he was upon her and he reached up to touch her. He was surprised at her sudden reaction as her palm connected shockingly hard with the side of his face. The noise was easily more painful than the actual force of her slap and her hand flew to cover her mouth as his own fell agape.

Their eyes grew wide in unison and Alex’s own hand flew to his tender cheek. Clearly they were both as shocked as the other and as her fingers dropped away from her lips, she giggled _once_. Just the once and then her face fell completely serious again as the situation sunk in. “Oh my _gosh_ …” Stepping forward, she touched the back of his hand, which still shielded the skin of his cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know … I don’t know where that came from … I got caught up in the moment … Oh my gosh, I’m sor–”

He was actually glad that she was touching him, even under the violent circumstance and he was torn at whether to take the situation seriously. That single _giggle_ both confused and relieved him. His hand slipped out from under hers, allowing her fingers to touch his face directly. “ _Did that make you feel better?_ ”

“I … I’m sorry.” He could see the shame of the question caused her and he understood the answer. Yes. It actually had. On some level, it really had. She was angry and frustrated and … _out of control_. “You didn’t deserve _that_. I’m so–”

“Did **_he_** deserve that?” The answer to this question was as obvious as the last.

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t take that out on _you_ …” Her eyes were a flurry of torment. Her brows pinching together and her white sclera reddened as she fought the inevitable tears again. “ _I’m not a good person_.”

“We’ve already been over this.” He smiled at her, wiping the wetness off her cheek. “None of us are.” The next words rushed out of him as he felt her body tense. She was about to pull away. He could feel it. “I’m _sorry_.”

“No. You didn’t do anything. That’s what I keep saying, you have nothing to be sor–” She attempted to reject his apology, supplanting it with her own as she shook her head from side to side as he leaned his face into the soft palm of her touch.

“I’m sorry … _for leaving_.” He could have qualified it further. He _could_ have said _this morning_ , but something felt fundamentally honest at just the simple way he had said it. “And I’m sorry I won’t _leave_ now … even though you demand it so.” His hand pressed against the back of hers, holding her hand against his face. _This_ was important but he didn’t understand why, not fully. Not _yet_. He sought redemption from her for something far more important than just this morning. “I’m _not_ leaving again. _Ever_.”

“Please … I can’t …” She attempted a retreat but he was expecting it. A single step back and he followed, holding her hand in place against his cheek as his stepped with her. “ _Not again_.”

“ _Hit me again._ ” He felt he needed to be punished. “If that is what _you need_ , then hit me again. But I’m not _leaving_.” He felt her anger towards him was justified. “Hit me until you’ve no anger left. Hit me until your affection is all that remains. [I will allow it](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F23003061&t=NWRlNDZiZjM3ODJlMzhmYjFiNWFhZDQ2YjkzZGY0MTJlMDIyNDU0MixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1).”

“I … No.” She responded to him softly as she took another step away and then he took a matching one. Unable to allow her more than a few feet of distance from him, he pursued. She would run out of space soon. The wall was close behind her. “[I don’t want to ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F23003061&t=NWRlNDZiZjM3ODJlMzhmYjFiNWFhZDQ2YjkzZGY0MTJlMDIyNDU0MixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1)[hit](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F23003061&t=NWRlNDZiZjM3ODJlMzhmYjFiNWFhZDQ2YjkzZGY0MTJlMDIyNDU0MixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1)[ you.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F23003061&t=NWRlNDZiZjM3ODJlMzhmYjFiNWFhZDQ2YjkzZGY0MTJlMDIyNDU0MixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1)”

“Then what … _pray tell_ …” He smiled as her back touched the wall and he placed his palms on the concrete surface on either side of her. “… do you wish to _do_ with me then?”

“Alex …” Her protest was weak and unbelievable. She pinched her eyes shut as he leaned down to her, bringing his nose to the side of her head and breathing her in deeply before [rattling](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20143117&t=YzkxMDdhZTQyZTQxZTI2YzQ3NGQ5NTEzZTNiMzJhNThhMzFlYmVkZixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) faintly as the air escaped from his chest. That smell. _Heavenly_.

[His hands slid down arms, over her back](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21080156&t=NmM4MTJhYWYwY2ZiYWVlNTZhYTBmYzQyMTg1YmE3NjI4MWY0YzNhNyxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1), down and past her hips as they grabbed mid thigh. He raised her up effortlessly into his complete control, bringing her legs around his torso. He grinned when she clenched around him.

“I’m sor–” Her eyes locked onto his.

“Enough. [No more apologies](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21930695&t=NDVkNmM5MTY5NzY5MTg4ZDkxYjBiNjg2ZWI4MzJhOWFlMmJjNGYzMCxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1).”

_And then he kissed …_

_Oh gods he kissed …_

He was laying her back down on the bed. She was pulling his shirt over his shoulders. This was so much better than the kitchen island. The mattress was soft and large. He could absolutely show her greater attention here and satiate her owns needs along with his own. His body hardened sharply at even the thought of her possible _taste_ and a small moan escaped as the desperate need to be within her washed over him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her question was _accusatory_ , but she reacted positively to _all_ his touches, her body moving against him while his right hand traced its way down and across her shirt.

“Because I [ache](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21930695&t=NDVkNmM5MTY5NzY5MTg4ZDkxYjBiNjg2ZWI4MzJhOWFlMmJjNGYzMCxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) to feel you … I _need_ to feel you.” Burrowing underneath her night shirt, he began to push his needy fingers down under the top elastic band of her briefs. His mouth found hers again, his tongue brushing hers. He danced in her eyes until she shut them and he gripped her chin firmly, shaking it gently. “No.” She open her eyes and looked at him. “I want your eyes _open_ this time. I want you to see **_me_** … _this time_. Please … ” She obeyed his request and his mind was a flurry of desire and agony. He was inches away from touching her warm and moist flesh when the strange and foreign words escaped his lips. “ _Mea est …_ ”

##  _**[Semper.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2FAlways.&t=NDM5OWQ5MWY3ZjU0YTc1NTgyM2RlYzkxZjZjNDhiYWU1ZTU2MmJiOSxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) ** _

##  _**[In perpetuum.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23en%2Fla%2Fforever&t=NmFmNzJiYjJkNTU5NmFmN2ZhY2E1YjM5OGY2MzNiYWMwNjZhZmQzOCxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) ** _

“What did you just say?” She pulled back.

“What?” Uh oh. What had he done now? _Damnation_!

“What did you …” Confusion and torment riddled her square face. The next word was a question, but she would only get it partially out … “Quint–?”

A loud knock echoed through the flat and both turned in unison to stare at the bedroom door. Alex’s lip curled up with annoyance and he looked back to her, his face full of accusation. “Who the hell is that?! Are you … _are you expecting someone_?!?” His jealousy reared its ridiculous head and his voice was full of disdain.

“What?!? No, I’m not! What the hell is wrong with you?!” She wiggled up, scrambling across the sheets to be out from under him and he pulled back as she softly slapped his arm across the right bicep. “I was _sleeping_ , you jerk!”

 _Hmmmm_. That was a fair point. “Then _who_ is it?”

She was already up and heading towards the living room to find out. He pulled his shirt back on, adjusting the unyielding hardness in his cotton pants as he followed her to the front door. The knock sounded again and this time it was followed by someone ringing the doorbell. _Quite rude at three AM_. He watched as she struggled to her tiptoes, looking through the little hole, before whipping back around as she _mouthed_ the panicked words to him: “It’s _your wife_!”

No. There was _no way_. Alex was at the door in an instant, pushing her to the side as he gazed through the hole. Sure enough. Ana stood, her arms crossed over her silk robe, staring crossly towards the peephole.

 _Damnation_.

"I can see you!” Ana called out to the door and Alex shrieked back, glancing at Elaine as he shared in her panic. _Oh gods._

“Hold on! Gimme a second.” Elaine yelled to the door and then mouthed to him: “HIDE!”

Alex looked around and around, his mind a flurry of dread, spinning as he tried to decide where to put himself. He began to move towards the balcony and as he moved clumsily in his overly alarmed state, his foot grazed the pile of canvases leaning in a group against the wall. The painting on the far end fell to the ground with a muted thud, exposing its subject to him and he gasped.

Holy … shit. It was that … _that thing_. It was … his eyes blurred and everything seemed to sway slightly as he looked upon the canvas. The figure was hooded with its white skin and dark stripes and pointed ears and … _cold eyes_.

He would have continued to stare at it, mouth agape, had she not snapped her fingers loudly and diverted his attention back to her. She shrugged wildly and pointed to the bedroom, but he turned and continued to the balcony. Snapping her fingers several more times, he glanced back to see her furiously pointing to the bedroom and shaking her head at the balcony, but he ignored it. Once he was out on the small patio, he slid the door quietly shut and stood off to the side so that he wouldn’t be visible.

_Good gods. He was such a piece of shit, wasn’t he?_

* * *

The deadlock clicked and the door was less than an inch open when Ana pushed on it forcefully, causing the _short, fat_ woman to take several steps out of the way of the door’s swing. Ana barged into the space.

“Where is he?” She demanded immediately, surveying the apartment with a sweeping look before she turned her angry sights back to the disheveled _other_ woman.

“Excuse me?” Elaine raised her eyebrow. “What the f–”

“Don’t you _fucking_ lie to me.” Ana waved a nasty finger down into the pudgy woman’s face, mere inches from whacking her on her button nose. “I know he’s here. Is he hiding?”

“Who the fuck are you talking abou–” Elaine stared at the finger, nearly crossing her eyes as she focused on it and Ana pulled her hand back as the woman’s face grew serious and _concerningly_ annoyed.

“Whatever … I’ll find him myself then.” She sidestepped around the woman and began to dart around the space, looking behind the couch first before she approached the kitchen next and checked the other side of the island. She opened the coat closet next and then headed for the powder room.

“Get _out_ of my apartment.” Elaine didn’t follow her in her mad search of the space. The woman just stood at the door and her tone grew firm as Ana headed for the bedroom. She stepped in and checked each side of the bed, then the closet and last the bathroom and its enclosed loo. Nothing. She found the woman standing in _exactly_ the same place when she came back into the living area.

Ana spun around, looking for _any_ other nook or cranny that she might have missed and she spied the balcony. She laughed as she stepped towards it and the quiet woman took a single step forward and Ana felt more justified and confident than she had before. “Out here, is he?” Sliding the glass door all the way open she thrust her head out, expecting to to find _something_ , expecting to scream “Gotcha!” but as she turned from left to right, to survey the mostly barren patio, she saw _nothing_.

 _Hmmmm._ She slid the door back shut and turned to address the _other_ woman again, who was still staring at the patio blankly, her lips pursed together tightly.

Ana took a moment to stare at the woman. What could _this_ little, ugly thing have that she didn’t? With her pudgy little _fat_ face. With those dark spots that peppered her visage, making her look _old_ and _dirty_. She was but a few inches taller than their _teenage_ daughter, but clearly had thirty pounds on her. Her thighs grossly touched and her voice was more reminiscent of a teenage boy than an _actually_ woman’s. Why would _anyone_ wish to kiss lips that thin? Ana stared at all of the woman’s obvious _imperfections_ as she remembered Alex’s strange _defense_ of her the other night.

This woman wasn’t _anything_ compared to her. She had _nothing_ of value. This woman was pathetic and a fraction of the woman that _she_ was. Yet, she was threatened in a way she couldn’t actually grasp. The _way_ he had defended Elaine was … _unacceptable_.

“Think you’re pretty clever don’t you?” Ana sneered.

“Clever? Absolutely.” Elaine snapped to attention. Her eyes diverted slowly from the patio to Ana’s. Her face grew serious as her head tilted to the side inquisitively. “I’m way more _clever_ than you’re even capable of.”

“You think so huh?” Ana scoffed at the statement. She had a MBA from Oxford. She spoke five languages. She had more than just a six figure salary. She was the Senior Director for multi-national–

Elaine laughed wildly. “It’s _really_ time for you to leave now.”

“Or what?” Ana antagonized the situation. She wanted to push Elaine. To belittle her. To demean her. To put her in _her place_. She needed to understand that she was Ana’s inferior in every way that really mattered. “What will you do?”

Elaine stepped forward. “I don’t have to be nice _here_. I don’t have to be polite _here_. I don’t have to put up with _shit_ from people like you _here_.”

“ _Here_? You mean in your filthy _apartment_?” Ana laughed out loud now. “You’ll put up with anything that I see fit to–”

“Remove yourself from my presence … _or I’ll do it for you_.”

“Excuse me? Are you … are you **_threatening_** me?” Ana giggled at the tiny thing’s attempt to intimidate her.

“Bitch …” Elaine’s confidence was unyielding and she stepped forward again. “I’m fucking _royalty here_.”

“I think you’ve clearly misunderstood **_your_** place _here_.”

“Misunderstood _my_ place?” Elaine nearly burst into further laughter. She pointed at her own chest, clearly amused by the absurdity of Ana’s insult. “Maybe you need to understand **_your_** _place_ here. _I could erase you_.” She snapped her fingers as her eyes grew wickedly sinister. “With a snap of my _short … fat … fingers_.”

Ana took a step backwards, her skin danced with bumps as the woman had seemingly plucked those very words from her brain. _Short. Fat._

“Or was it … _pudgy_?” Elaine stepped back to the door, swinging it wide open for Ana to get the hint. “ _Get out. NOW._ ”

“Whatever he’s said to you …” Ana swallowed hard. “You aren’t the _first_ , and trust me, you won’t be the _last_. When he’s done slumming it, he _always_ comes crawling back home.” She stepped back out into the hallway, continuing to lob insults at her perceived competition. “You’re just an _itch_ he’s curious to scratch. Look in the mirror … you’re _disgusting_.”

The door slammed shut on her face.

 

* * *

 

When Ana approached the patio, Alex moved quickly, though he was still reeling from the fallen painting, he didn’t let it slow down his reaction. He was up and over the railing, inching his way back to their flat when he heard her slide the door open and then shut.

In all honesty, he didn’t wish to leave. He had _promised_ he wouldn’t leave again, and now he had done _just_ that. He considered going _back_ , but having such an encounter at three in the morning was likely not something _anyone_ really wanted.

Once he was back onto the safety of his own landing, he looked around and considered what he should do next. Ana most likely already searched their entire apartment for him and he would need to think quickly.

 

* * *

 

“Where the bloody hell …” Ana locked the front door again and spied his keys hadn’t moved from the side table where he kept them. The front door had been locked and _clearly_ he wasn’t next door. Perhaps that was an overreaction. He had no other key that she knew of and she checked the bedroom again. She had searched the whole _bloody_ place, from top to bottom, but now she felt somewhat foolish and she would have to make another round of it.

_Had she missed him somewhere?_

She started with the patio, as she had done the first time. Stepping out, she took a quick glance at the small space. A small metal table. Four tiny metal chairs. A few large potted plants. Nope. No husband here. She turned to leave and his voice was solemn, almost _annoyed_ in its tone. “ _What is it?_ ”

She jumped, nearly tripping as she spun to squint in its direction. It had come from behind the table, tucked between two chairs. She couldn’t see _anything_ at all until there was a deep inhale of breath, dragging air through the tight confines of a cigarette and its bright, tiny, red ember burned in the darkness. Her hand flew up to turn on the porch light and he winced at the sudden light, shielding his eyes from it.

“Good lord! Warn me next time!”

“Have you …” Ana stared down at him, able to see him clearly now, sitting on the ground between two of the chairs. “Have you been here this _whole time_?”

“Whole time? What on Earth are you on about now? I couldn’t sleep.” Alex pushed his back against the wall, using it as leverage to help him stand while he took one final drag on the cigarette before he pushed the end into the dirt of the closest plant, leaving it there.

“But I … I checked out here earlier.”

“Yeah?” Alex shrugged. “I saw you.”

“You saw me?” She threw her hands up. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

“Why would I? I came out here for _privacy_. Am I not allowed that anymore?”

“Privacy? To … _smoke_? I didn’t know you still–”

“Yeah well … That makes two of us, doesn’t it? I didn’t know _you_ did either, remember?” He shook his head at her, stepping around her to go back inside. He flicked the light back off as she stared at him. “Your fags are in the blue pot if you’re wondering.”

“I thought you … threw them away.” The last statement wasn’t even necessary as she was certain he didn’t even hear it. He was already inside, walking towards the bedroom. She considered following him, but instead, she fished the pack out of the pot and lit one, slinking into one of the metal chairs as she realized she would owe her neighbor an apology tomorrow. “ _Shit_.”

 

* * *

 

“I figure, if we leave here by _9:30_ , then we’ll make it there with plenty of time for the midday show. They do this _Birds of Prey_ thing every Saturday at noon. It has smashing reviews.” Ana bounced around the kitchen, putting the final touches on the platter of pancakes and bacon before she deposited it on the center of the table. She slid into the seat across from Alex and she was in the best mood he had seen in weeks. She was vigorously trying to talk them into family day at the Zoo.

The little flea machines were back and he stared at them crawling across the food. His eyes darted between the tiny things and _his girls_. He watched them banter back and forth.

“Ah come on. The zoo? Really?” Sarah whined, her voice growing high pitched.

“Don’t give me that.” Ana tried to nip her daughter’s entitled attitude in the bud. “You _love_ the zoo.”

“Yeah …” The teenager continued her pointless argument. It was clear Ana had already made up her mind of what they would all be doing today. “When I was _five_.”

“Come on.” She pointed at the food, urging him to help himself from the platter. “Eat up. We’ve a long day ahead of us …”

She wanted to leave by 9:30 and Alex rolled his head as he recollected the text message he read last night and subsequently deleted. Ron was sending a car for Elaine at 9. He glanced at his watch. That was in twenty minutes.

_Fuck._

“I’m not sure I’m feeling up to anything today. I didn’t sleep well last night.” This wasn’t even an excuse. He hadn’t been back to sleep at all. He had laid in bed for the remainder of the night, staring at the ceiling, as he thought of nothing but that damned _painting_.

He might have tried to text _again_ , but Ana was watching him like a hawk right now. Each time he pulled his phone out, she was far too curious at what he might be doing on it, actually leaning over several times to sneak a peek.

Any privacy was currently disallowed and he felt more exposed than ever, specifically over the figure in the art. How did Elaine know about the _pale man_ in his mirror, the man who plagued his waking and dreaming thoughts? His body crawled with bumps over the mystery of it.

“Nonsense!” She dismissed his request for a reprieve, as he knew she would. “We only get one Saturday a week and we’ll make the best of it. Just have another cup of coffee. You’ll be fine. And eat up. You’re looking _too skinny_ lately.”

That was rich coming from a woman who was nothing but a skeleton herself. But he wasn’t hungry. In fact, he was _never_ hungry. He hadn’t eaten in _days_. Glancing at his watch again, he cracked his neck to the right side.

“Everything alright?” Ana read the annoyance in his action.

 _Eighteen minutes_. She would be downstairs in _eighteen_ minutes and he wasn’t sure what to do now. _His girls_ continued their familial banter and he watched them, trying to understand why he was like he was. Why couldn’t he just _be happy_ with what he had? Elaine was right. He had _everything_ , didn’t he? He had the _perfect_ home. He had a _beautiful_ wife. He had a _clever_ daughter. He had … _money_ and _love_ and … _everything_?

And he realized that _all he had to do was let Elaine go_. All he had to do was wait out the next _seventeen_ minutes and just … _let her go_. After that, it would no longer be up to him, would it?

“Hey!” Ana called out as he stood. “Eat something please. Where are you going?”

He smiled, stopping by her chair before he walked away, kissing her on the forehead as he cupped her cheek in his hand, staring into her brown eyes and running his fingers through her dark hair. “ _I just need to hit the loo first …_ ” He just needed to do something he had been avoiding. He just needed to speak with someone … one last time.

**[Man or a Monster - Sam Tinnesz, Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5wuxZ6UBwAsZpRfQuEVyzw&t=Yjc5MTMzODhjYmUwNjI0OTc5NDE4ODE2ZDRhZGEzYTljMWVlZjg4YyxQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) **

> _When you close your eyes, what do you see?_
> 
> _Do you hold the light, or is darkness underneath?_
> 
> _In your hands, there’s a touch that can heal_
> 
> _But in those same hands, is the power to kill_
> 
> _Are you a man, or a monster?_
> 
> _When you look at yourself, are you a man_
> 
> _Or a monster?_
> 
> **_It’s so hard to tell which side you’re on_ **
> 
> **_One day is Hell, the next day is the dawn_ **

He approached the bathroom slowly, knowing full well that the pale figure in black would be waiting for him on the other side of the mirror, peering into _this_ world from the _next_.

And he was. Hooded. Confident. _Terrifying_.

“Who are you?”

The voice rattled. “We have asked this question before. _And_ we have answered it as well.”

“You’ve answered nothing.” Alex shook his head twice and the man, _the thing_ , remained motionless, watching him with cold eyes. “Answer me. Who are you?”

“Are you really _ready_ for the truth, Mr. Quin?”

“Answer me. Or leave and don’t return.”

“Very well.” It was only when the figure spoke that he could see his stained and jagged teeth. “I am _the mind_.”

“The … _mind_?” Alex _and_ the man twitched at exactly the same time, though his twitch was to the right and the creature’s was to the left. They were perfect reflections of each other’s movement. “Then … _what am I_?”

“You are _the heart_.”

“The heart? I don’t … follow.” His skin crawled with bumps.

“Don’t we, though?” The man tilted his inhuman head. “We were already told as much. But you chose to ignore it.”

“Stop saying _we_.” Slapping one hand down on the counter, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “ _We_ … I’m going mad. This is it … I’m really–”

“What were we _told_ , _centurion_?” The creature asked him. “Say it.”

“I don’t …” He was going to say ‘ _know_ ’, but that wasn’t true. He knew what the thing in the mirror wished him to say. What he demanded Alex to embrace. He knew what he wanted him to repeat. “We were told to … _trust only emotions_.”

“Why?”

“Because that is the _only_ thing they cannot control.”

“That is the _only_ thing they cannot _rewrite_. The only thing they cannot _erase_. The heart is that which will not be _silenced_.”

It was the words from the homeless man and Alex cringed. “Who is … _they_?”

“An excellent question. _They_ think of themselves as our guards … as our keepers.” The pale man grinned now, flashing his jagged teeth and Alex flushed further with bumps. “But they have not realized the truth of it yet.”

“Realized the _truth_ of what … yet?”

“The only difference between being a _keeper_ and being _prey_.” The smirk only widened as the pale man tilted his head forward and his face became menacing.

“What _difference_ is that?”

“On which side of the bars _they_ stand.” There was a rattle and both men twitched in unison again. “They’ve locked themselves _inside_ with the beast they try to cage.”

“Beast?” The thing grinned and Alex swallowed hard. They were getting off topic though and he started it back on course. “But if I am _the heart_ and you are the _mind_ …” Alex closed his eyes, playing the words in his head as he worked the puzzle out. “What does that mean? What–”

“I am what they’ve suppressed.” The pale man put a single gloved hand on the other side of the glass, pressing his palm towards Alex. “But _you_ … _foolish and rash as you might be_ … are the only hope _the world_ has. All you need to do … _is wake the fuck up_.”

“The world?” Alex laughed. “Alright. And there you have it. CrAzY.”

“Think about it.” The creature challenged him. “They’ve given us _everything_ they think we desire.”

“But it’s not …” Alex accepted that. Whatever _this_ was … he not only did not desire it. He actually detested it. “This isn’t what I want … This isn’t what I _need_.”

“She thinks herself clever. Giving us our family … _once lost._ Giving us the mundanity of humanity … _simpleton dreams._ This was all by meticulous design. Spiders of Sin. _Weavers of Decay._ They attempt to control the heart by satiating it. _By seeking to feed it_ , but instead … _they’ve only starved us further_.”

“I don’t … follow …” Alex lied. He knew exactly what the creature meant. He knew exactly what hunger ached within _them_.

Oh gods … _them_? Had he _really_ just said … _them_?

“And what fools they have proven themselves to be. They’ve yet to even realize their folly.”

“Fools? What … _folly_?”

“That in their zealousness to _control you_ both, they’ve actually given us the opportunity to show our true desires to her. They’ve given us the chance to _prove_ them to her. They’ve fixed what we broke that _terrible_ night.”

Alex stared at the hand. “Broke? Which … _night_?”

“That even if we were given the things she assumed we wanted, that even in the face of the _happiness_ she assumed we would chose over her. _We did not_.”

“I’m not following … You’re–”

“Why do you not remember the _other_ woman, Quin?” The creature rolled its head in annoyance. “The one who you chose _over them_ once before?”

“Not remember? Of course I remember her.” Alex scoffed, biting his lip. He didn’t _really_ remember though. As hard as he had tried, he couldn’t, but that didn’t prevent him from attempting to lie to the creature. “Of course I do. I remember _everything_. I made a foolish decision and I nearly _lost_ them … _everything_. I won’t do it again.”

“Foolish … decision? _Lost_ … them?” This was the first show of emotion the pale man displayed as he chuckled lowly. “We did not _lose_ them. We gladly _threw_ them away.”

“Don’t be absurd. I think you mistake my–”

“This is _your_ problem. Stop _thinking_. That is not _your purpose_. That is not _your strength_.”

“Wow. Ok. Thanks?” Alex felt like he should be insulted, but he actually wasn’t. “Then what _is_ my purpose?”

“You are the heart. So what do you _feel_ , Alex?” The creature spoke his name as if it was joke and they glared at one another.

“I don’t know anymore. Everything is … confusing.”

“Do you feel even an ounce of shame?”

“Shame? What on Earth for?” But he already knew the beast was asking him about _yesterday morning_. He was asking him about _this morning_.

“Do you feel shame for desiring her?”

Alex stared down at the counter as he considered the question. He had tried to avoid thinking about this, as it made him feel like a truly terrible person. “No. I don’t.” His face contorted with the confession and he gripped his forehead with anguish. “Oh god. I’m a fucking _terrible_ person.”

“No.” The figure smirked. “We’re an _honest_ one. And we have always prided ourselves on that. Do not falter now. No one is a _good_ person.”

“That’s bullshit.” Shaking his head, Alex fought the words. He didn’t _remember_ being an honest person. In fact, he remembered quite the opposite. “No. I have … _responsibilities_. I made … _promises_. I can’t believe I’ve already–”

“Unfortunately this choice is _yours_. It is one of the _heart_ and I cannot decide it for us. You are the one they cannot control. If you allow it, they will subdue me … _again_.”

“Choice?” Alex scoffed. “What choice?”

“The same choice we have already made … _several times over_. The choice we both know you’ll make again.” He glanced at his watched. _Shit_. Eight minutes. Eight … bloody … minutes. “They knew you would never stop pursuing her. So they have created a scenario to force you to willingly _let_ her go.”

Alex swallowed hard. “You mean … _Elaine_?”

“That is _not_ her name. We know that is not her name. You could _feel_ the lie, even as she uttered it to you.”

“Then what is it?” He knew this had been a lie and he wanted to know now, more than anything, what her name was. He just wanted to know her _name_. “ _Please_.”

**[Hustler - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7kaUCr6Ni2cK90bTNhXoqo%3Fsi%3DDDRFsI_mQBmpnhkhsAm8Hw&t=Y2VmOWM5NzE3ZDdjNjJmMjFkMjIxYmY3MDIxZjg4NTFjOTZjNTgzMixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) **

> _I didn’t come from luxe or own no diamonds_
> 
> _Yeah I was barely getting by, we survive like lions_
> 
> _But now I’m a king, now I’m a titan_
> 
> _Keep turning up the heat (keep turning it up)_
> 
> _I know the price is steep (keep turning it up)_
> 
> _They gonna call me king_
> 
> _Yeah, yeah, I’m a hustler_

“If you wish to know …” The creature pressed his other gloved palm against the glass and he tilted his head. “If you wish to remember … her name as well as your own … you must allow me back in.”

“Back in? What will happen?” Alex took a deep and concerning breath. “What will I become? What will happen to … who _I_ am?”

“What you are now is merely an echo of what you are _meant_ to be. But you can _choose_ to succumb to their manipulation. You can _choose_ to allow them to use your own emotions against you. To let them convince you to _let her go_. This is the _only_ move they have left. But if that is your choice, accept that _you_ make it freely.”

“Choice?”

“Everything this world has ever been, from creation to existence. From birth to _oblivion_. It was all for _one_ thing. The Purple Son understands it and that’s why he fights with us, _for us_. And we understand it … _you understand it._ Say it. SAY IT.”

“ _The freedom of choice_ …” Alex answered as he stared at the hands, pushing against the other side of the surface and his heart thundered under his rib cage. He placed his right hand over the creatures left and he felt the surface of the mirror begin to rumble slowly. There was a brief moment of hesitation as he heard Ana calling to him and he clenched his jaw tight as he leaned forward, placing his left hand over the figure’s right. 

> _We have loved one and only one in all of our life, and_ [we plan to ONLY love her](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20143117&t=YzkxMDdhZTQyZTQxZTI2YzQ3NGQ5NTEzZTNiMzJhNThhMzFlYmVkZixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1).

Alex’s mind rushed over the memories of his life. He remembered so many things with vivid accuracy that it broke his heart. He remembered slipping the ring onto Ana’s slender finger on that _perfect_ Carribean beach. 

> _Our time here draws to a close, we can feel it, and whatever afterlife awaits us …_

He remembered Sarah’s first bike ride. He remembered being a father and a husband and a provider. He remembered being _responsible_. He remembered Christmas, and holidays, and school plays, and romantic dinners. 

> _Whether it be the_ [fields](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FElysium&t=YzAxMGVlNWQ1NTk3YmMwMzNhZWI3OTEwYzVhNTY4NzY1N2M3MjlkMyxIemVNVzlTNA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) or [Tartarus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FTartarus&t=MGIyOWM0Yzk5OWRjNzAyNDY3N2VhMjYxY2ZhYzI5ZDNhZjBjMGIwNyxIemVNVzlTNA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1), whether it be **_Heaven_** or even **_Hell_** , we go there with her on our mind and in our heart, always.

He remembered passion and affection and love _and happiness_. He remembered it all, but he _felt_ none of it. 

> _She awaits us in eternity._

“It is _time_ to wake up now … **_Quintus_**.” The creature grinned marvelously.

##  _**[And everything faded …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20818894&t=Nzc0MDk4NjUzYWExMjlkNTZiMGNiY2E5Y2NiZTU2ZGEzOTljMmZiZixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) ** _

##  _**[    into a blinding and painful white.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20818894&t=Nzc0MDk4NjUzYWExMjlkNTZiMGNiY2E5Y2NiZTU2ZGEzOTljMmZiZixQMHNuRVRIVA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173841384563%2Fchapter-127-damnation&m=1) ** _

* * *

 

“Alex?” Ana called out, but there was no response. “The cakes are getting cold! Alex!!!” She threw her napkin to the table and stood to make sure he was alright. Perhaps he had gotten ill? As she rounded the door, she saw _him_ standing in front of the mirror, his palms pressing against his own _reflection_. But she had to take a double take, as his reflection was _strange_. His skin was paler than it should have been. His hair was spiked and shorter than it had been. His face was _striped_. Lines running from his tear ducts, down across his cheek. And his eyes were a pale blue.

“Alex?” She asked, but he continued to stare into his own eyes. “What on Earth are you wearing?”

He was clad in black now and she didn’t recall those clothes ever being in the closet. A long wool coat, black gloves, and … wait … is that a sword? Was it made out of … _bone_?

“Alex? What’s … oh my god …” She tried one more time and he turned slowly to face her. His eyes were cold and she clutched at her own throat as she backed out of the room, away from him.

“I am sorry, Anastasia … _or whatever your real name might be …_ ” He stated coldly as he brushed passed her, heading for the front door. “I am _not_ your husband. Nor have I ever been.”

“Dad?” Sarah stood. “What’s going–”

He swung the door open and Ana saw the frail old lady standing on the other side, grinning madly as she spoke. “Such an overly troublesome creation, aren’t you … _Mr. Quinlan_.”

Ana didn’t see much of the movement that happened next. It was all far too quick, but she did see him reach for the handle of the sword over his shoulder but the woman moved like lightning, striking him squarely in the chest as he flew across the apartment, slamming into the brick of the back wall.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than intended. There will be a part 8. I’m clearly terrible at estimating Hell. I hope you still enjoy!


	114. Fan Art - King of Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly reminded me of the latest update, 12.8. If you haven't read it yet, you're missing out. Cheers!

## Mr. Quinlan & Rupert Penry Jones | “King of Shadows”

[By quintussertorius.tumblr.com](http://quintussertorius.tumblr.com/post/174153243500/mr-quinlan-rupert-penry-jones-king-of)

 

  



	115. 12.8 - Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this is quite late. I have never taken a hiatus this long before and for that, I apologize, but on the plus side, it wasn’t because I wasn’t writing. In fact, this chapter is twice as long as normal ones, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> There are cheesy parts. There are angsty parts. And there are glorious parts.
> 
> As always, thank you for continuing to read this long winded drabble.
> 
> Only one more interlude and chapter to go to wrap up this science experiment!
> 
> Cheers, my lovely readers! Cheers.  
> 

**[Bloody City - Sam Tinnesz](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6nepJcMt2SwjWe5KY1GUsD%3Fsi%3D7A3eOqznRwamzbWcmUEYEg&t=MTA0N2ZkMGFkY2Y4YzkyNmIxNjY0YmFjNzA0MTEwMTZhZDNmZTVmYSxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _Visions of heaven_
> 
> _Crash on the floor of anarchy_
> 
> _Loud voices calling for revenge_
> 
> _Cold metal triggers on their fingertips_
> 
> _The midnight streets are running red_
> 
> _Bloody City, Bloody City, Bloody City_

“Stop fighting me, _brother_.” Lucifer’s talons dug into Gabriel’s shoulders, pinning the larger angel onto the ground beneath him. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you. Stop fighting this.” He pushed the tip of the blade down towards his brother’s heart, forcing it through despite Gabriel’s strength, slowly but inevitably. Its edge cut into The Messenger’s fingers as Gabriel gripped the raw metal in his bare hands, cringing as his flesh smoked against its divine power.

“AAAAHHHHH!!!” The tip finally touched the skin of his chest and began to pierce. Their jaws clenched in unison and pain flooded over the losing angel. Ozryel was still clamouring back to her feet, pulling Michael up with her. They would be back upon the scene, but Lucifer had flung them away like ants and he would do so again.

“ANY TIME NOW!!!” Gabriel screamed, peering over his attacker’s shoulder and Lucifer’s eyes grew wide as he felt a very delicate shift in the air behind him. Almost undetectable. Entirely silent.

_Uh oh._

“Gaaaaauuuuuphhhhh …” The Morning Star gasped as the end of the Staff erupted through his chest and his talons flexed allowing Gabriel to roll immediately out of the way and the shaft of Raphael’s divine weapon continued its path through Lucifer’s body and into the ground beneath him. His body lurched forward as far as it could before its downward motion halted and he slumped, uncomfortably impaled. Blood bubbled from his mouth and he coughed as the staff began its theft of his divinity, drawing the power away from his soul and into its vaulted depths. “You son of a–” Lucifer reached up, clutching at the rod, seeking to pull it free.

The breath was warm. There was an intimate whisper on his ear and Lucifer’s lips curled when he recognized the voice as it spoke the words no more than an inch away. “You haven’t changed at all.” He placed a solid foot forward, to push himself back through the shaft, but Raphael held him in place, palms flush against his back and he finished his quips with a sinister yet merry chuckle. “All that time alone. You could have used it for self-reflection, but _instead_ … you’re still just as _fucking_ gullible as _ever_ , _you little shit_.”

The electricity sparked between them, cracking and popping. It sizzled in the moisture that hung in the air and all hair stood on end. Lucifer pushed against his brother, using his footing on the ground and he began to stand, moving his body against the staff, trying to pull it from the ground before him, but Gabriel was already upon him, gripping the rod and holding it in place.

“ _Nope_.” 

“Hurry! _Together_! HOLD HIM … WITH ME, brothers!!” Raphael commanded and the twins obeyed in unison, taking their places on either side of Lucifer. They each took an arm, pulling it away from the staff and held it with all of their might.

“No! NO! **NO!** Cowards! You _fucking_ cowards!!!” Lucifer screamed in frustration as the staff continued to draw from him and his brothers stood in the tetramorph of the Living Creatures, their strongest formation. They stood as the Hayyoth always had around the Chariot of the Maker. To the right, Ozryel, _the Eagle_. To the left, Michael, _the Lion_. In the front, Gabriel, _the Ox_. In the back, Raphael, _the Man_.

“Bad move, _boys_.” The Morning Star grew still and silent, flexing and concentrating. What would come next will be utterly _terrible_ and Raphael’s _knew_ they would not be able to hold him for long. Everything minion moving below shifted and he heard the creatures begin to climb the cliff wall. The first ones went for Michael and Ozryel.

“Ozryel!” Raphael screamed as the hordes descended upon them, scratching, biting, and ripping at their heavenly vessels. “OZ!!!”

“I’m on it!!! GOD DAMN IT!! I’m _bloody_ on it!!!” She clenched, closing her eyes, concentrating on her echoing command. She held Lucifer’s arm _tight_ , even as the beasts tore at the flesh of her back. She held his arm _tight_ , even as the tears flooded down her cheeks from the pain of it all. She held his arm _tight_ , as her command rippled across the Nexus and Raphael amplified it across the entire world … and beyond.

> _To me, my children. To us. And be quick about it!_

They just needed to delay. All they needed was _long enough_ for the staff to take _just enough_. All they needed was _long enough_ _for Quintus_ to do what _Quintus_ did best and what Raphael was _certain_ he could do. _Disrupt_.

“Together, brothers!” The beasts were upon all of them now and he missed his Wheel more in this moment than he _ever_ had before. “HOLD!”

He missed her because at this moment, all they need was **_time_**.

 

* * *

 

**[Self Destruction, Part Two - J.G. Thirlwell at The Room of Doom - Nine Inch Nails](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4he6W9qLk0hJhjIciLTzSk&t=MjhjZmU2NDdkNWE4MThiNmJmZTgzMjY0YzczMDBlNWJmZDg0OGJhMSxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _I am the bullet in the gun and I control you_
> 
> _I am the truth from which you run and I control you_
> 
> _I am the silencing machine and I control you_
> 
> _I am the end of all your dreams and I control you_
> 
> _I take you where you want to go_
> 
> _I give you all you need to know_
> 
> _I drag you down I use you up_
> 
> _mr self destruct_

_Good gods …_ She hits as hard as Gabriel. But he really should have expected as much from an _earth elemental_.

Quinlan pulled himself back to his feet, dragging his dirty boots across the carpet as he readied himself again. This time, he actually managed to draw his blade and he watched the frail old woman enter the apartment, morphing as she slinked in. Her back stretched and she stood entirely erect, the hunch that had once been profound across her spine completely vanished as she slithered in, her bones cracking into a new reptilian alignment. Her eyes became vertical slits and her nails and fingers stretched long and sharp, reminiscent of a _strigoi_.

His false wife ran to comfort his non-daughter, wrapping her arms around the teenager in pointless protection. They backed away from the escalating situation and Quinlan, as he often did, began to sneer obscenities to his attacker. “[Ascendo tuum](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fthoughtcatalog.com%2Fmarkie-masucci%2F2015%2F10%2F14-useful-latin-profanities-you-can-use-to-curse-at-people-and-impress-them%2F&t=MTcxYzA2YWZlZjNmZGEyMGM0MmY1MDU4OTM5Y2NmNWQ0NGYxZjQwYSxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation), [moecha putida](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fblogs.transparent.com%2Flatin%2Flatin-profanity-how-to-swear-in-latin%2F&t=ZTllY2I0MTU5MjljNzAwYTk5ZjIyYTFhMGIyNDY3ZGZkNzJhNTEyOSxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation).”

“Oh _dear_.” Persephone giggled. “Such a _filthy_ , _little_ mouth on you.” Her body continued to elongate as she approached him and she was easily as tall as he was and growing. “I’ve _gotten_ you to be _so polite _before, boy. I’ll need to wash that mouth out …_ again_. This needn’t be so _uncomfortable_. Yield.”

She said _again._ _Again._ The foggy memories were still torrentuous gusts in his mind. The false thoughts clashed and broke upon the real ones like waves against the beach and he realized he had fought this very beast before. When he dove head first into the bowels of the pit, following the direction his _heart_ bade him, the direction the wind had urged him. He cut his way into _this Cage_ and fought The Maiden, not faring as well against her as he had Satan himself. In hindsight, this was clearly his own fault. He had underestimated her, not recognizing _who_ or _what_ she was _yet_.

Dropping into the middle of downtown, he had left a path of carnage through the fake city and then _she_ was there. Large. Scaled. Menacing. Hissing. She was faster than him and she pinned him, placing a hand on either side of his head as she pushed her grotesque little fleas into the space between his eyes, scrubbing away who he was.

 _No_. There would be no touching of his mind again. She approached and he kept his distance from her as they began to circle one another.

She was _Seraphim_ , and while he had actually fought many of them in the tournament, triumphant against all, he _knew_ she was not like the others. Ozryel had shared many things about Hell with him before his death, as his maker knew, this would be one of the most important.

 _For she was not just_ **_any_** _basilisk. She was the Basilisk Prime. The very first of her kind._

 _Ancient. Dangerous. Betrayed. Fallen … and_ **_free_**.

“Why do you hesitate, [scortum](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%23la%2Fen%2FScortum&t=M2U0N2FhMjZkZjQ2NjAwZTY5MWRmZTY5NWQyYjk4MGE5YjZmMzI3YyxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation)?” He egged her on, hoping that he could antagonize her emotions, cause her to act irrationally, drive her to strike first. Clearly her apprehension matched his own as she watched him carefully and he gripped the bone handle, his leather gloves squeaked against friction of his tightening hold. “ _Is it that you fear me?_ ”

“ _I fear no one!_ ” Her neck unhinged and she came down on all fours, her transformation came to completion and her body resembled a massive monitor lizard. She torpedoed towards him as her claws dug grooves into the tile floor.

It was a risk, but he moved laterally as she barrelled his direction, placing himself between her and the patio door. Instead of swinging the blade to strike, he ducked and curled to the ground, tucking himself low and allowing her to plow into his body with full force. As they collided, he released the blade and gripped her body with both hands, pulling her down into his roll. Their bodies slammed _through_ the glass together.

He hoped to keep the momentum going long enough to kick her up and over the balcony, but her claws were already into him and she pinned him down, pressing him against the metal of the railing as she dug into his flesh and he screamed out.

_Damnation. Her speed._

Her prehensile back legs held him down as she put a hand on either side of his head, chuckling madly, leaning down to him. “This may _sting_ a little …” She said that the first time as well. “ _Again_.”

Quinlan relinquished all attention to the pain and focused on _her_. Smirking as she tried to push into his mind, he surrendered himself to her. “You wish _inside_ my mind … _come then_.” In her haste, she had forced a connection between them and just as _Michael_ had learned, Quinlan was a very quick student. Clearly, her mind was _not_ stronger than Hayyoth and he forced himself through the connection, and into _her_ mind.

Her reaction was immediate and violent. Ripping her hands away, she screamed as he read a single overwhelming, _bitter_ emotion from her.

 ** _Betrayal_**.

His muscles tensed and he began to push against her incredible weight, gritting his teeth while calling upon his divine strength. Her body began to give and Quinlan clenched, desperate to stand, but the metal railing came to life all around him. Moving like vines, they wrapped around his body, subduing him. He flexed but she became heavier and even taller, the structure of her body became even more reptilian.

 _Good lord._ She was still _growing_?! _Fuck._

“This … “ She cracked and twitched and hummed. “This is _my world_ , _mon petit prince_. I control _all_ here.” Her tongue was now slit down the center and it darted out of her mouth, tasting the air between them. “This is … _my paradise_.” She hissed down to him, tilting her head back and forth, bobbing like a snake, as the angels often did. “This is my … _doll house_. And you _will_ play by _my_ rules.”

“Open your foolish eyes.” Quinlan laughed, scoffing at her statements even as she stepped down with greater weight and his ribs cracked under the increasing pressure. His tone was full of condescension. “This is _your_ **_prison_** , the same as ours. And if your _king_ has _his way_ , it will also become your _tomb_.”

“He is **_not_** my _ki–_ ” Her word choked to a halt as the tip of his blade erupted through her sternum. There was a violent hiss as Persephone turned to address her slender, dark-haired attacker. As she shifted her weight, her grip on the dhampir loosened, and Quinlan reacted immediately, using the distraction to his advantage, completing his original plan. The metal railing bent under his strength and he scooped up, heaving her up and over the railing and smiling as she tumbled.

Her speed surprised him yet again and her slender, clawed hand gripped the railing. She struggled with her own growing weight, desperate for her dangling hand to find a grip. Without delay, he pulled the blade from his false wife’s trembling hand and severed the beast’s arm, mid-radius. Her face contorted with frustration as he watched her fall away.

Of all the knowledge Ozryel had imparted to him, he was currently most grateful of this _very_ useful fact. Being bound to _Earth_ , the basilisk were the only Seraphim which could not _fly_.

He moved to kick the twitching appendage off the landing, but as he brought his foot back for the strike, the flesh melted away into a massive pile of tiny things. They swarmed in unison, leaping from the balcony of their own free will, obviously following after their _Master_.

She would be back. Quickly, he assumed. He could not delay. “Thank you … _for your aid_.” It was all he could offer Ana and he hoped she would not respond to it, but as he gripped the now-solid railing to pull himself over it, she _did_ speak, and he paused.

“Alex?” Her voice trembled, as did her body. “ _What’s_ happening? What’s wrong with … _your_ face?” He stepped over the railing, glancing back at her momentarily. “Wait … where are you going?! You’re just gonna leave us here?! What’s–”

“I _am_ sorry.” There was very little he could offer her at this point. He pitied her, but he could not delay any longer. He made a promise to Michael and he _very_ much intended to keep it, regardless of the false responsibilities they had created in this mirage. “I did not come here to save _your soul_. You are already _damned_.”

“Damned …”

“ _As are we all_.”

Turning from her for the last time, he inched across the ledge. He _might_ have gone through the front door, but that would have taken unnecessary time. He had no doubts the Beast was already making her way back to him … to _them_.

**[Foolish Love - Allman Brown](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6aM1QlQHozvvTnMGE81Uqb%3Fsi%3DYheu8IxUQEq1ZQQDab-rlg&t=YjVmOGZkNTE4ZjY3NTNmMTY1YWJiYzJjNTUyOWJjODVjMDg1ZjJiYixLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _Do you stare at the light?_
> 
> _Lost but happy to be so_
> 
> _For a thousand years_
> 
> _One thousand years_
> 
> _Do you dream of the ghost?_
> 
> _That one day you will become_
> 
> _For a thousand years_
> 
> _One thousand years_
> 
> _In the night I whisper your name_
> 
> _In the night I whisper your name_
> 
> _Wait for you to appear_
> 
> _In the night I hold you to me_
> 
> _In the night I hold you to me_
> 
> _And wait for you to appear_
> 
> _Foolish love_

When he was safely upon the landing, he spied her through the glass and stopped all at once. She was sitting on the couch, completely still, staring down at the little device in her right hand and a wine glass in her left. It was already well past Ron’s departure time. She should have already been gone and he held his breath, taking her in as _Quinlan_ for the first time. Every time he had seen her thus far, he knew it was an important moment, but this one surpassed the rest.

And his heart. _Good gods_. His heart _thundered_ with nervous anticipation. How could a _dead_ heart beat this furiously?

Before he slid the door open, he glanced upon his own reflection in its glass, realizing he was still part-Alex, part-Monster. He decided it was probably not the best thing to _spring_ their ultimate predicament upon her. His own awakening had been gradual and it was best to tread just as carefully with her. It wasn’t hard to don the fully human facade one final time. He concentrated, as he had done many times in Heaven, and his stripes, eyes, and cheekbones melted away. His sword and clothing vanished to slacks and a button up shirt.

 _Good_.

And then he forced himself to breath, finally breaching her apartment, uninvited, for the second time and she turned to him, depositing her phone and wine glass on the low table before she stood. Her face contorted as she rushed to him. It was half hope, half agony. “What the fuck?! Alex?! Again?! Are you _fucking_ CrAzY?!” She pointed to the door. “USE THE GODDAMN FRONT DOOR! What’s wrong with you?! Are you suicidal?!”

She was _perfect_ and he hesitated, his mouth falling ever so slightly agape as he stared. Perfect. Exactly as he now _remembered_ her and she stopped only a foot away from him. Quinlan resisted the urge to fully grasp her, to crush her soul against his hungry embrace, to squeeze her until she begged him to stop, to tell her he wasn’t that pitiful shell of a man anymore, but he needed to tread carefully. It was uncertain how many _fleas_ might currently infest her.

“ _Da … Elaine …_ ” He caught himself quickly, glancing down to his wrist to read the false time from the false watch and verifying that it was indeed now _several_ minutes passed her departure time. “ _You are still here?_ ” Yes. She was. She didn’t leave.

“And what _the hell_ is going on next door?! What the fuck _broke_? It sounds like a goddamn disa–”

“You are still here?” He repeated the question, glancing at the the half empty bottle of wine and empty glass upon coffee table. There were no suitcases in sight. “I thought you would … I thought you were _leaving_. I …”

“I’m …” Her hands gripped her opposite forearms and she glanced down, shame riddling her frame. “I decided I’m not _going_.”

This was _not_ important right now. He needed to focus on getting them both someplace safe. He needed to _wake her up_. And yet, he needed to _know_. “Why … _not_?”

“Because you were _right_ …” She forced the words out. “That’s not what I want.”

 _Focus Quintus. Focus._ This can be discussed later. _All_ of this can be discussed later. This isn’t important right now, and yet, there was a purity to the question asked at _this_ moment, in _time_ , _right now_ , before memories would be enticed back to the surface. There was absolute truth in addressing it now, in this _fleeting instant_. “What _is_ it that you want then?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

“Untrue. It is quite unlike you not to know what you desire. You are unusually certain about things.”

“Unlike me?” She scoffed, shaking her head, she turned from him and reached for the bottle. “What would _you_ know about what I’m like?”

“I _know_ you.” His confidence was absolute. “Undoubtedly defiant. _Always_. But never _capricious_.”

“No. Stop that.” She filled her glass.

“Stop _what_?” He feigned _innocence_.

“Stop doing _that_.”

“Doing _what_?” He feigned _ignorance_.

“Acting like you know me. _You don’t know me_ , yet.”

“Oh, but I _do_ know you.” He did not _feign_ the affection that purred forth from his words. He had to consciously resist his body’s urge for the tone in his underlying strigoi voice to vibrate lowly. “In fact, I contend that I have known you since before you were even born.”

 _She was promised to him_ , but he knew that wasn’t exactly accurate. At least, not in the manner in which he had first assumed. From what the Wheel had confessed to him, it was very much the opposite. _He had been promised to her._ Before she was even born, _his fate was made to align with hers_.

She giggled lowly at his attempt to sound overly romantic. “Oh yeah, Lord Byron? Is that right?”

“ _I think …_ ” She waved the glass at him as he spoke. “You _know_ exactly what you desire.”

“ _Really_? I do?” She used the drink as a distraction from the ensuing conversation. The liquid violently splashed against the sides of the glass sides as she waved it around. He snatched it from her hand before she could take a drink and he replaced her now empty grip with his hand. “Hey, I wasn’t done with that–”

“It is _nine_ o’clock in the morning.” Setting it back down on the table, he swiftly turned back, never releasing his grip on her small hand and he found her resulting pout _adorable_.

“You’re …” She meekly resisted his command of the situation. “You’re _not_ the boss of me.”

“Perhaps not, but I do not imagine even _you_ are a very good boss of _yourself_ at this point in time.”

There would undoubtedly have been more banter, but a shrill, high pitched chirp erupted from outside and both turned to face the patio. “What was that?” She whispered the question and he gripped her hand firmly, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“Uh … I am … _uncertain_.” He fumbled the lie as he began to tug her towards the door, but she resisted, as he _expected_ she would, pulling herself from his grip and taking several steps towards the direction of the noise. Her interest was piqued. “Perhaps we should go somewhere else? Would you care to join me for some … _breakfast_?”

“Well, I was already _having_ breakfast.” Her attention diverted back to him, playfully pointing to the bottle on the table. “You’re free to join me, if you want …”

They didn’t have _time_ for this. “You avoided my question.”

“Question?” She chuckled.

“If you so wish me to repeat it, very well … ” He grinned at the game of it. At her _defiance_. At … _her_. ”You did not leave, so then … What _is_ it that you want?”

“Wait …” She squinted at him and he paused, unsure how to proceed with his next words. His speech had become far less _colloquial_ than it had been. He ignored the query. “ _Why are you talking like that_?”

“Tell me, _Princess Aurora_ , what is it that you _desire_?”

Her head cocked to the right at his peculiar choice of words and she blinked several times. “I don’t want to _break_ anymore.”

“I _promise_ I will not break you.” _Not again. Never again._ He placed her hand upon his cheek. “But what is it that you want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you wish _the one you lost_ … or do you wish _me_?” What a dastardly question to pose to her. He knew which response he _desired_ to hear, but was there really a difference between the two answers? And could he possibly be setting himself up for disappointment?

“I …” She swallowed hard. Alex had been somewhat uncertain in his emotions, but Quinlan was _not_ and his confidence visibly rattled her.

“I thought you wished to …” He _resisted the urge_ to brush the golden hair from her eyes. “Let him go?” And speaking of going, they should _really_ go, yet everything was eerily quiet. Surely the beast should have made her way back up the building by now?

“Yeah well … I don’t think that’s actually possible. He’s a _part_ of me _now_.”

“Now?” He asked.

“Always.” _Semper_. “Forever.” _In perpetum_. “You remind me of _him_. Maybe someday you won’t, but I’m being totally up front with you. If you can’t deal with that, then you should just leave righ–”

It was good enough and her sentence was cut short by his lips as he swiftly bent down to her, crushing her against his chest, embracing her smaller frame against him. She tasted of fermented grapes and though he normally disliked this, he enjoyed the sensation immensely, swimming in the flavor’s mixture with _angelica_. Pulling back, he brushed the tip of his larger nose against hers several times. Once. Twice. _Thrice_ , before he smiled. It was not _just_ good enough. It was _perfect_. “ _Good_.”

“No. That’s _not_ good.” She shook her head. “You’re _so_ weird. Why would you be ok with me _using_ you like that?”

This was all taking far too much time. This _distraction_. His need for her answer. His need for her touch. It had cost precious minutes, and yet everything was _so very_ quiet. Why did the Maiden wait? The possibilities scratched at his mind and one thought floated to the surface of his speculation. She _feared_.

_It was time to test those waters._

“You may use me for _any_ purpose you desire.” One kiss. Two kisses. A third. A fourth. His arms wrapped around her mid-section and he pulled her tighter, burying his head into the crevice of her neck. “Because I am yours, and you are _mine_. _Mea est. Tibi soont mea. In perpetum._ ”

“What did you just say?” Her reaction was immediate and she pulled back, looking into his face as hers contorted. Her brows pinched together. “What did you just–”

“I am sorry, _dragonfly_ , but we cannot delay further. There is something you need to know. Your paintings …” He released the facade and and his body shifted back to the half-dhampir, half-human form he had donned just minutes earlier.

Her face fell. It was not the reaction he was expecting. “What is this?” All amusement and affection melted away and her lips pursed together. She stepped back from him. “Is this a joke?”

“I assure you it is–” He beamed but she turned and repeated it again to the air around him and he realized that she was actually _not_ asking _him_. She was demanding an answer from _Hell_ itself.

“Is this a joke?! You think this is _funny_?!” She spun around, never once looking back him as she screamed. “Is this a test?! Are you _testing_ me!? ANSWER ME! YOU FUCKING COWARD! This wasn’t part of the deal!”

 _Coward._ Singular. Oh gods …

Quinlan’s mouth fell open as the reality of the situation hit him. He remembered the text messages clearly again. The name on them. EL. **EL**. L … Lucifer. She had sent them after Alex met her in the elevator that first day. _Oh gods …_ She knew … This entire time, she already knew _exactly_ who she was. This entire time, she had _never_ been Elaine.

_She already remembered … everything._

He stated it clearly and with great purpose. “ _Dawn_.”

She swung around, addressing _him_ again finally, with an accusatory finger. “Don’t _you_ fucking say that name. Don’t you–”

“ _Dawn_.” He repeated it. “You remember … _don’t you_? This whole time …” Everything made painful sense now. “You know _exactly_ who you are. _Dawn._ ”

“No. No. Stop that. _You_ don’t get to call me that. I’m _not_ that person anymore.” She shook her head, now pointing at her front door. “And I’m not amused anymore. _Get the fuck out_.”

 _She knew. This whole time … she remembered everything_.

“ _Dawn_ …” He swallowed hard. “You _must_ listen to me. We don’t have _time_ –”

“You need to go … _now_.” She refused him. “This isn’t what _you_ think. You _aren’t_ who they’ve told you. They’ve fucked with your mind, _whoeverthefuckyouare_.” She tapped her temple with her index finger. “You need to go.” Gripping the underside of his bicep, she ushered him to the door and he did not refuse yet.

“Dawn. Hear me. I am the fifth invictus. Ask me any question! Test my knowledge. Ask me about the cabin. The factory. The tank. The missile and _the dreams_.”

“It doesn’t matter what you _remember_ or what you _say_. Don’t you get it? He took those memories out of my head and put them in yours.” She opened the door and began to shove him through it. “Stop. _Just stop it_. You aren’t–”

“Can you _not_ feel me as I can feel you?” He knew his plea was falling on deaf ears, as no matter how much he _knew_ she felt it, her defiance would win out and she was convinced he was nothing more than a mirage sent to torment her. In fact, he knew the Beast was banking on this.

“You aren’t _real_ , Alex. None of you are. You’re just a prank. You-re–” She gripped the side of the door and Quinlan pushed on its surface, stopping her from slamming the entrance between them.

“I am here. In _Hell_. With you. I came for you. Hear _me_ … _please_. You are so _wrong_. It _is_ me. My _name_ is Quint–”

“Whatever they told you …” She was speaking down to him in the same manner he had spoken to his false wife and he understood what she thought. “Whatever you remember … _it’s not the truth_. He only sent you here to … _punish_ me.”

“Lucifer did not _send_ me here. I am not what you assume. I am not _his shadow_.” The desperation in his voice was rich. Had he ever sounded so _weak_ and _surrendering_? So pleading? “ _Feel_ me …” He reached for her hand and she pulled away, stepping back into the apartment. Her revolution was blatant. “ _Hear_ me.” She was _betrayed_ and _raw_ and … _broken_.

“No. Nope. You need to go. Right now.” Crossing her arm, she gripped her body, shielding herself. Her eyes never looked up from the ground. “Tell _him_ I’m not interested in … _this_ … I already _told_ him I don’t want _this_.”

“ ** _Lula_** …”

She blinked and looked up. “What did you …” She touched her chest, taking a deep breath in as that single word _rocked_ her. Her mouth cracked open. “What … did you just call me?” The crack turned to a gape and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

“ ** _Lula_** … please … _See me_ …”

“I never shared _that dream_ with him. I never told him _he_ called me that … ” Recollection washed over her and her hand dropped as her brows furrowed furiously. “I never told him … **_you_** called me that.” Her eyes widened. “ _Quintus_?”

The door slammed shut between them.

“No.” He stated it. “NO!” He screamed it. “NOOOOO!!!” He bellowed, pounding his hammer fists against the wood, though it no longer felt organic at all. It was now solid metal.

“Quintus!” He could hear her muffled cries as she slapped on the other side the door, locked within.

“Dawn! _Dawn_! No!” He bellowed. “NO! Stand back!” He gave himself room, taking several deep steps back and kicked at the door with every bit of his dhampir might, madly driving the heel of his boot into it, as close to the handle as he could. He expected the material to crumple or give in _some_ way, but it was absolutely solid, not even offering a sliver of movement. He tried the action again and then once more before he placed his palms back on it. “Dawn … No.” Pushing his forehead gentle against the door, he pinched his eyes shut in defeat. No. _No._ Not when he was _this_ close. There would _not_ be surrender today.

“Quintus!” She pounded.

“Do not move! I will find another way in! Stay there!” He screamed to her before he tried Alex’s door and found it locked the same way. He released the knob and then touched the deadbolt, remembering the last time he had been _locked_ out before.

Peering down the long hallway, he knew he could try every single door on the floor and he would find them _all_ locked the same way, and just as a possible solution sprang to his mind, a strange air blew in the confines of the cramped hallway and everything was painfully quiet.

He hesitated and again, the breeze urged him towards the elevator. Or perhaps it was towards the stairs? Something in the back of his mind itched that neither of those were the destination he was being ushered towards. The silence of the situation gave way as an eerie creaking echoed through the space and he knew what he needed and _why_ : he needed a certain key.

The sound of the door whimpering open, sent bumps flooding across his skin. _It was obviously the door to Persephone’s apartment_ and she was clearly inviting him in.

“So _be_ it.” She might be able to control the things within this world, but it was _not hers_ and he was Hayyoth, at least partially. He drew _his_ blade, constructed with _his_ own power of creation, an extension of _his_ very soul’s divinity, and that of Ozryel’s, by proxy, the Angel of Death. He sneered. “It would be rude to refuse such an invitation.”

As he approached her apartment door, Ozryel’s voice burned in the back of his mind. He replayed her very last fleeting instructions to him before he faded into damnation.  

> _My pale one, you will be a God there, just as you are here and just as you were in Heaven. But heed these warnings very clearly, there are dangers in Hell._

Quinlan walked without fear, _ignoring_ his maker’s words.  

> _Aside from the Morning Star himself, there are two you_ **_should_** _fear._

Quinlan rounded the corner and spied the open door at the end of the hallway, light flooding through it and illuminating the normally dark space.  

> _The first shan’t be a problem. I chained him up myself. Even Lucifer is not mad enough to free him. However, the second, his sister, should be avoided, for only a true Hayyoth can match The Maiden’s speed._

Quinlan stepped into the light.

 

* * *

 

“Quintus!” Dawn screamed, pounding on her condo’s locked exit. “QUINTUS!’ He had stopped responding over a minute ago and she kicked at the immovable door. “No … No … No. That _bitch_ …”

Maybe he was going to come back around the balcony? She was out the door and peering around the edge of the railing but could see nor hear a thing. In fact, everything was unusually quiet, even the vast city below and she looked out. Nothing moved. Nothing peeped. _Nothing_.

But that wasn’t exactly true at all. She _could_ hear something. It was coming from below. The place she didn’t like to _look_. The only thing that _terrified_ her here in Hell. “ _Oh god …_ ” Her eyes slowly fell from the distant horizon and she gulped as she stared into the gaping void several stories below. The sound grew clearer as she felt its pull.

Sound? What was it exactly? And then she knew. Someone was _screaming_ on the other side of the doorway and she recognized his voice. It was … _EL_.

_What the hell was going on …_

Dawn fell to her knees, clutching at her chest as she felt herself being pulled at further; as she felt her divinity being stolen into the void. Green sparks danced across her vision and she might have screamed, but the _false_ world turned to black all around her.

 

* * *

 

Michael was the first to break the tetramorph. It wasn’t his fault and no one blamed him for it. He wasn’t at his best.

Ozryel did her best to force Lucifer’s army back with her own, but they outnumbered her forces and their little brother’s army descended upon the weakest of the four: the Left Hand. Once Lucifer had one arm free, he flung the Right Hand away with a simple flick of his wrist. A solid thrust of his heel into Gabriel’s sternum sent the Messenger rolling. The army was upon them and that just left the Traveller.

Raphael would not be able to hold him alone and as the Morning Star reached for the staff, Raphael did what he had to do in order to maintain full control of his weapon. He ripped it up from the ground, pulling the shaft back through his little brother’s ribcage and took several steps backwards. Preparing.

Lucifer turned. His nostrils flared and he chuckled. “Think you’re pretty clever, huh?” It was clear his amusement was false. Raphael stared at the weapon as he swung, spinning it in an elegant figure eight pattern before gripping it in both hands, holding it out parallel to the ground. It glowed a familiar red. It had charged quite a bit actually and the Indigo Child beamed.

“Clever? We both know I don’t have to _just_ think it, brother.” The hubris that Raphael normally subdued came to the forefront. “We both know it to be true.”

“Gimme _the stick_.” Lucifer took a step forward, but it was already too late as he knew he wasn’t fast enough to stop his brother from consuming that which he had just _stolen_. Raphael’s eyes slowly moved from the horizontal shaft to meet his brother’s and his grin only widen as he unlocked the energy and excepted it into his holy vessel.

“I don’t think so, but …” Raphael cracked his neck to the right side and then the left. “You are more than welcome to try and _take_ it from me.” Red electricity danced across the metal and then across his mocha skin, pulsing over every inch of him. For an instant, an outline of crimson fire burned in his purple irises and then he pinched his eyes shut as he took a deep breath and the crimson sparks disappeared into his body. “Hmmm … _Not really what I imagined … kinda … cinnamony_?”

“Oh yeah? You like that, do you?” Lucifer had plenty of divinity left. Far more than what had been _thieved_. “Have another taste then, _asshole_.”

He sprinted and both clashed with even speed as _everyone_ around them slowed to a near stop. Their speeds were matched and blow for blow, neither could move the other.

“You think that’s all I have?” The Morning Star cackled and Raphael cringed. He _knew_ that tone. He _knew_ that laugh. The _little shit_ had something else up his sleeve. He might have stepped back to prepare for whatever it was, but _gold_ and _green_ swam over Lucifer skin. It danced with his red, interweaving and charging him and he struck Raphael. “Isn’t _family_ great?!”

_Shit._

* * *

Quinlan hit the wall, cratering into it, sliding down to the marble floor. He was up, swinging the blade, but she parried and dodged it, taking a handful of his throat and forcing him back against the brick. As he peeled her grip away, she bit at his face and he scaled her body, stepping on and over her massive shoulder before jumping to the ground in front of her, swinging madly with the sword.

“Slippery little thing, aren’t you?” She purred and they danced around each other again. He was certain they could go on forever. She was faster, but they were clearly matched in strength. At least he was certain his endurance surpassed hers when she furiously pulled at his arms, seeking to rip them free of his body, but he remained intact.

He used the blade to cut deep grooves into the flesh of her soul, but at each penetration, she would retreat before his strike could do any real damage and the fleas would crawl across her wound, stitching it back together before he could strike at it again.

“Give me the key.” He demanded, staring at it dangling from a chain around her neck. She had already been wearing it when he entered. She _knew_ he would be coming for it. “And we will be on our way.”

“I cannot permit that.” She grinned, licking her teeth. “I have been charged with keeping the _Child of Prophecy_ … complacent.”

“Then why did you delay earlier?” He cocked his head to the side. “Why would you _let_ me tell her? Or did you _know_ she was already awake?”

“We thought we knew _all_ your little secrets.” Persephone snickered, tugging at the chain, teasing him with it as she spun it in her elongated fingers. “I did not know. She’s far sneakier than you. I’ll just have to _wipe_ you both again.” There was uncertainty in her voice and Quinlan doubted the truth of her words.

“You assumed she would _not_ believe me, didn’t you?” Quinlan laughed.

“She almost did not.”

“Your gamble failed. It will _always_ fail where I am concerned.”

“Prophets and their stupid little dreams. No bother. _I’ll do better next time_.”

**[Gladiator (Remix) - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5MKTPYVxcEo9vghOuSdsqb&t=NjcyNTVjMWI3ZGQ2NTE3ZGUwODIxNGRmNjRjYjYxOTFhZWRmNmU4ZCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _Gladiator, gladiator, gladiator_
> 
> _Picked a fight with the gods I’m the giant slayer_
> 
> _Bone shaker, dominator_
> 
> _Freight train, wrecking ball, I’m the gladiator_
> 
> _I’ve got every reason to fight_
> 
> _I’ve got every reason to fight_
> 
> _Have you ever shaken hands with the devil in the night?_
> 
> _Let me tell ya_
> 
> _I’ve got every reason to fight_

_Damnation_. Her strength was _incredible_. If he had leverage, he might have been able to grab onto something and hold his ground, but she plowed through him like a bull, the force of the impact loosening his grip on the blade as the wall behind him came to life. The brick lost solidity and became mud-like, absorbing half of his body into its depth before hardening again. She reached for his head.

“Do it. Touch my mind again. I dare you. That worked out _so well_ for you the last time.” He smirked, flexing his body as tiny cracks began to form in the material that confined him. “Do it, [putida](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fblogs.transparent.com%2Flatin%2Flatin-profanity-how-to-swear-in-latin%2F&t=ZTllY2I0MTU5MjljNzAwYTk5ZjIyYTFhMGIyNDY3ZGZkNzJhNTEyOSxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation). I gladly welcome you in.”

A frustrated twitch escaped her and she sneered down at him. She took his throat in her grip again and dug her nails into his flesh. “Or perhaps … I’ll just cut your soul to pieces with your _very own_ divinity?”

She bent to retrieve the weapon but halted and a short, excited breath escaped her as they both gazed upon the blade. It was no longer on the ground. It was now held tight in the _Poet_ ’s confident hand. She stood roughly halfway between the Maiden and the open front door and the corridor beyond it was in absolute rubble. Pieces of the ceiling tiles swung and fell. Dust billowed up and into the apartment as the breeze danced all around them. Obviously, she had created her _own exit_ from the locked the apartment.

“Dawn … No–” He tried to speak, but the beast squeezed his neck closed.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your _own_ size?” The _tiny_ woman quipped at the dragon, raising the bone sword and attempting to point it menacingly at her opponent. “Let him go.”

Persephone laughed, easing up her hold on his throat as she did, but there was something disingenuous in the amusement. “No …” Quinlan attempted to shake his head, panting as he struggled to break free. “Dawn … do not. _Run. Please … She is too much for you._ ” His voice was nothing more than a whisper yet he _knew_ she could hear him, but she still did not flee, nor did her eyes move from _The Maiden’s_.

Persephone purred with glee as the dormant frill around her serpentine neck danced up for the first time, moving in unison with the vibration of her tone. “ _Yes_ , abomination child. Do as he says. As he _commands_ you. _Run_. Run from me. In fact, I invite it. Make me _hunt_ you.” The beast tightened her claws into his throat again. “It has been so long since I have hunted something worthy. Tell me … Are you _anything_ like your Father? Is there even an _ounce_ of the Left Hand in you?”

“It’s not the Archangel in me that you need to fear.” He had never seen her bluff so convincingly before. Confidence exuded her entire being but he didn’t think Persephone would fall for it, yet the beast remained still.

“Please … She is _too strong_ for you. Find an escape. I will find you …” Desperation was thick in his plea. “ _I will find_ –” Her claws dug deep again, cutting his sentence off as intended and he growled, flexing every muscle in his body causing the wall to crack further.

“I said: **Let him go**. Now.” Dawn shifted in her stance, stepping deep and bringing the handle of his blade close to her forehead as Uriel did. “I’m _not_ gonna ask you _again_.”

_No. No. What was she going!? What did she think she could possibly–_

“Full of _ego_ , abomination child.” Persephone thundered, her tone half-curious, half-amused. “Silly _half-thing_! Do you not know _what_ I am?!” The cracks grew and he began to pull his body free of the wall just as her claws retracted from his throat and she dug her nails around his entire frame, flinging him across the room like a rag doll. “I am _no simple little demon_. I am Seraphim _Prime_ , the _FIRST_ of my kind.” As he hurled through the air, he flailed for control and the beast roared. “ ** _I am Elemental!_** ”

He’d heard a similar bellow from Barqan when the Djinn had challenged the soldiers, but he understood _this_ threat, from _this_ being, was far more worrisome than from any Djinn King. His back struck the back wall.

“Well. Let’s be _perfectly_ honest. We’re _all_ **_elementals_** here, aren’t we?” Dawn’s voice didn’t waiver in the slightest. She was not normally so foolish. _Why did she not run?! She needed to–_

“You think **_you’re_** an _elemental_ , half-thing!?” The beast cackled wildly and he rolled to his knees, attempting to get to his feet as quickly as possible to wedge himself between the two, to distract, to protect, but the ground rumbled and the seraphim quaked the earth all around them. “I AM **_EARTH_** ITSELF, you half-breed peasants!”

“Yes. You _may be_ Earth … but I …” He looked up in perfect time to see that _wicked little grin_ spread across Dawn’s speckled face. Oh gods. How he had _missed_ that sinister little grin. “ _I am_ **_Time_**.”

 He knew he hadn’t blinked. He knew there was no shift in time. He knew she was standing on one side of the basilisk before the beast charged, and suddenly, she was on the other. Instantly. She held his blade out from her, parallel to the ground and a single drop of red blood fell from it’s tip.

 

* * *

 

 

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Lucifer shrugged. “And it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what the half-breeds do now. _I’ve already won_. The gate is open. I march.”

“Be careful, _little one_. Your arrogance is showing again. You should _really_ check that.” Raphael quipped back as he got back to his feet, preparing himself for round three. All three colors still danced on his brother’s skin and the energy that flooded around the area. He wasn’t sure how long they both might be able to keep up this speed, but moving this fast kept all others from joining their squabble. “Or have you forgotten in your _old age_ , that’s how _you lost_ to me last time?”

“ _I didn’t lose, you fucker!!!_ You … cheated!!!”

Raphael grinned as Lucifer overstepped in anger and the Indigo Child struck with beautiful precision.

 

* * *

 

**[For This Your Were Born - UNSECRETE, Fleurie](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F512J8f8HJO8miPTFAELV7A%3Fsi%3D-zOQrbK_T8acrsZg-o_o1Q&t=NzM0MTk5ODNiOTUxMjc3ZTJlOTg2YjA3NTUyYjI5YTY2ZDFlOGM2OCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _Silence the doubt in your mind_
> 
> _You were by design a victor_
> 
> _Know in your heart, you’re alive_
> 
> _Destiny is on your side_
> 
> _Every step and every storm_
> 
> _Light the flame for the torch_
> 
> _When you feel the rain, when you hit the floor_
> 
> _It’s for this you were born_

“Oh my god … _she so strong._ I can’t … I’m not …” Dawn panted, stumbling forward, nearly tripping before she caught her step. She needed to catch her breath. She couldn’t keep _sprinting_ like this. “I’m not _strong_ enough.” She danced around the creature. Each time she paused time for as long as she could, she wasn’t able to make more than a superficial cut into the beast’s shielded skin and Persephone would stitch herself back together before Dawn could make another. “Quintus, I can’t keep doing this … I can’t … She’s too tough. I thought I could … but I’m not strong enough.”

He was beside her, pulling her to her feet and Persephone backed from them. There was an almost undetectable flex of the creature’s muscles and Quinlan smirked. This was the first weakness she had shown and he understood it now. She had not disturbed them earlier and now he realized why. “ _But I am._ ”

Dawn was _fast_ enough and he was _strong_ enough. Persephone feared them _together_. His smile widened as he remembered the Right and Left hands, Ozryel and Michael, moving in unison with each _other_ , moving as one, against a larger foe. He remembered what Sempronius had said about Hayyoth. How Hayyoth were made and what made them _strong_.  

> _[Always together, working in unison and clarity …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

“Um … Ok. And how does _that_ help _us_ right now?”  

> _[Maintaining each other’s strengths and defeating their weaknesses …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

He took the blade from her trembling and exhausted grip. “Aid me, _Lula_.”  

> _[If one would falter, the other would bolster …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

“How? I don’t know–” Dawn shook her head. “I can’t beat her. She’s too stron–”  

> _[If one would stumble, the other would reinforce…](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

“You cannot but _we can_. _Together._ ” Persephone watched as he turned to face the beast and his left hand found its way into Dawn’s, interlacing with her fingers. “ _Be my weapon_.”  

> _[If one would doubt, the other would ensure.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

Hayyoth had always been strongest in _pairs_.  

> _[There were never two Angels as close as these.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=NzM5MDg1NjgxMDAxZDE1YjljMTRjN2NlMWY2ZDhkOWQ4YmM3NTRiNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) _

They were _made_ that way, after all.

 

* * *

 

Raphael stepped back and held the staff with one hand, bringing it up a foot from the ground, he cocked it up and down, like a gun, and the weapon transformed, the four gems at its top melting into its shaft and it shifted from being blunt on both ends to being pointed.

Lucifer held the Celestial Blade, pointing it at him while he smirked. “You think _your shaft_ is stronger than _my sword_.”

Raphael shrugged. “Well … it’s quite a bit _longer_ , to say the very least.”

The brothers clashed against each other’s fury.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan wasn’t sure what he loved more. Was it the feeling of her warmth against him? Or was it the scent of _angelica_ that dangled in the air as her power flowed over and through both of them. He pulled her body tight against him, his arm snuggly around her waist, and carried her against him every step of the way.

The feeling of side stepping through time was unlike anything he had felt before. In those brief moments where she enacted control over the most fundamental force in the universe, his body felt entirely numb, except the points of contact with her and he found himself smiling.

“This isn’t working. We need a new plan.” She would have collapsed had it not been for his arm. Her exhaustion nearly complete. “I can’t keep this up. You aren’t doing any better than I was.”

She wasn’t _entirely_ wrong. He could cut the creature deeper, and even when he had severed Persephone’s limbs entirely, several times now, they simply clawed back to the body and fused together again.

“I have an idea.” He lifted her against his left side and gripped the blade with his right. “Let me go when I say …”

Her felt her nod once and everything paused around them as he sprinted at full dhampir speed while time paused in her wake. He slid underneath the beast’s neck and cut across her trachea as his thighs skidded through the debris of destroyed plants, pots, furniture, and wall scattered everywhere.

Persephone’s neck was far too thick to cut with a single strike and he released his hold on the Poet, allowing her to continue sliding across the floor and he used the free hand to grab at Persephone’s shoulder as he passed it. The momentum of his sprint carried him up and over the beast in a perfect arch. He could now grab the blade with _both_ hands and he began to cut, hilt deep. Without _his prophet_ in tow, time had already began to run again, however it was too late and he was already cutting the other side of the basilisk’s neck before the creature could react.

The body thrashed and Quinlan landed on his feet hard the moment the head hit the ground with a satisfying thump. He turned and scooped up the skull before the body could reattach it. Her teeth nipped at him and her tongue tried to latch itself onto his wrist. He shouted to his love. “The patio door! QUICK!”

Dawn was there in _an instant_ , sliding it open as he began the ancient dance he was all too familiar with. He had _always_ excelled at this sport and he grinned. Her body was already crumbling into the little machines and they began to swarm towards him, crawling up his boots and then legs.

_Hurry, Quintus. Hurry!_

He brought the head up before him and he spied the direction of his target through the open door. It was a _very_ narrow path through the city of skyscrapers, one that shot straight to the horizon. He swung her head back and he stepped deep as he spun his entire body, taking several steps forward as he built up the necessary momentum. The tiny machines, still flooding over his legs in mass, crunched under his boots and he swung her head around his torso, spinning the object with perfect gyroscopic spin, and throwing it as one would a discus. The projectile left his grip and he actually grunted, exerting himself with everything he had left.

Once it was airborne, he watched with bated breath as it disappeared into the distance, exactly where he had intended it. And just as they had on his own patio, the fleas retreated from his legs and he watched the army of them slowly meander over the patio, seeking their master again. She would be back. He was certain, but at least now they had _time_. And at least now, they knew her weakness as well as their strength.

“Did you see that throw?!” He couldn’t help but smile, pride billowing from him and he wiped his hands against each other. “That was impressive, even for me!” Nodding at his accomplishment, he breathed relief. “Did you see it?” There was no response and his heart lurched for a moment. Oh no. Why was she was not responding?

He turned immediately, sheathing the blade as he shifted to face where she had been and he found her staring at him. Wide eyed and solemn.

**[The Scientist - Cold Play](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F75JFxkI2RXiU7L9VXzMkle%3Fsi%3DrYIV1NzLTqqyP6w61LG6EQ&t=ZGY4MGQzMjE5ODY5ZDFiMTMxOWM1MzQxMTY2NzE4ODZmZjVkMzkwYixLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _Tell me you love me_
> 
> _Come back and haunt me_
> 
> _Oh and I rush to the start_
> 
> _Running in circles, chasing our tails_
> 
> _Coming back as we are_

The air was palpable. He expected the wind to blow, to dance around them. He expected they were being watched but everything was still and utterly quiet and he understood that they were truly alone now. That they were, in fact, being afforded _a_ private moment. So he waited, unmoving, uncertain, apprehensive. He waited for her to say something, until he could wait no longer. “Hello, _dragonfly_.”

It took her more than a moment to move. He didn’t wish to see her cry, but he knew that fate was inevitable, very likely for them both. Taking a single step towards him, her hand came up and then down as her brows pinched together and she struggled with the tears that already welled. “Quintus … ?” Was it a question or was it a statement? Clearly, it was a bit of both.

“Yes.” He matched her step and then waited. This entire time, he had wanted _this_ moment so very badly and now that he had it, he had no idea how to respond. Was she still angry with him? He accepted she had _every_ right to be.

“Why?” She took another step and he matched it. “Why are you _here_?”

“I am here, because _you_ are.” Was that not obvious? “In fact, I am here because I _told_ you I would be.”

“What?” Her composure was fading and she took another timid step towards him and he matched it again. “What do you mean you told me?”

Her voice cracked delicately and he smiled, not at her pain, but at the words he knew he would say next. “I told you _that night_.”

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “I don’t–”

“You _told_ me then that I was speaking the truth and you were right. But neither of us understood what that meant yet. How could we?” His heart thundered.

“Quintus, I don’t what you’re talk–”

“I have loved _one_ and only _one_ in all of my life, and I plan to ONLY love her.”

“No …” She took a step back and he moved forward to her. “Please stop. I don’t want to hear–”

“And whatever afterlife awaits me, whether it be the fields or _Tartarus_.” His patience waned. He would not wait for her to approach again, and he stepped confidently towards her. These words. _This confession_. He _needed_ to make it, and it poured forth from him without further hesitation. “To Heaven and even [Hell](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F20143117&t=ZjNkMTRhZjNlZTk0NjUzNTNmOWNmZmY0ZWNhZDE1NmQ1OGY4YzM2ZixLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation), I _went_ there with her on my mind and in my heart, always.” Her control was crumbling. “She awaits me in eternity.” The distance between them was gone but he waited to reach out. “I am _here_ because you deserve to find the same. I am _here_ … because _you_ are here.” 

Her face cracked and everything flowed forth from her, streaming down her speckled cheeks. There were words, but they were unintelligible behind the dramatic sobbing. He moved to touch her finally and she buried her head into his sternum. Collapsing under the weight of her own emotion, she fell to her knees. He could have caught her, held her up against him, but he followed her down, his arms wrapping around her body as they melted into each other.

“I am sorry.” He rocked her. He rocked them both. Back and forth. From side to side. As she babbled into his chest, as he kept her tight, relief washed over him in waves. His _ache_ finally subsiding as he wept into her. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“You …” Finally, he caught actual words between her sniffles. “… left … you …”

“I know.” He pushed his forehead against the top of her head. “I am _so_ sorry, _Lula_. I will _never_ do so again. I will _not_.”

Her unintelligible gibberish continued. She repeated the same phrase several times until he pulled back finally, grabbing her shoulders so that he could look into her wet face and listen to what she was trying to say. His thumbs wiped the moisture from her cheeks and the redness of her eyes only made the rich green more vibrant than ever and he gazed. “I cannot understand you.”

“I said …” She wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her hand and her lower lip protruded, quivering in a pout as she reclaimed control of her emotions. “I _hate_ it when you call me that.”

“I know …” Quinlan nearly chuckled. He beamed, crushing her against him again. “That’s why I do it.” He squeezed and rocked her again. “I _missed_ you … _so very much_.” _Oh gods._ “I missed you.”

Everything was _fine._ They were _fine_. She wasn’t angry and she welcomed him. Her arms reached around his broad torso as far as they could and she nuzzled into his neck until it was her turn to pull back. “Wait … Has it been _you_ this _whole_ time?” She wiped her nose again and he grinned.

“Yes.” He brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed her knuckle gently, his eyes never leaving hers. “It has.  Has it been you?”

“Why didn’t you _say_ something?!” Her brows pinched and she stared at his lips.

“I did not know until this morning. I did not remember who I was. She took that from me.” He gripped the side of her head and pulled it close, so their foreheads could touch.  “How long have you known?”

“I remembered right away … I remembered everything.”  The tears streamed and her confession poured forth with them. “I didn’t want _them_ to know. I didn’t want _him_ to know I remembered, because he’d try and take you away again. And I didn’t … I didn’t want to forget you. I thought I did, but …”

“But they could not change _your heart_.” His palm touched her chest. “ _Nor mine.”_

She looked him up and down. The tears were subsiding and he allowed her to peruse him fully. “If it’s you … How come you look like that?” Gingerly, her fingertips prodded the stripes on his face and then she curiously patted the blonde hair on top of his normally-bald head.

“I do not know. I can _force_ my true appearance, but it takes concentration. Elements of _him_ still linger within. But he fades … slowly.” He tilted his head to the right as she bit into her lower lip, touching his hair again. “Wait, you _like_ this?”

“No. No. Not at all.” She pulled her hand back and he caught it mid-retreat, placing it against his cheek. “I mean …” She nearly giggled. There was an innocent shrug and then she smiled. _Finally_ , she smiled. “It’s just _different_.”

He wished to just sit here, lazy in each other arms, but he knew they couldn’t. “We _need_ to go now.”

“ _Wait a second_ … Why are you here?!” Realization struck her hard and she tried to pull away, but found herself unable. His grip was unyielding. “Oh my god, Quintus … what did you do?!” She gasped. “How did you get here?”

“I imagine the very same way _you_ did, libellula” Seriousness replaced his relief. “The only way _our kind_ can.”

“No. No you didn’t. You _wouldn’t_. Again?! Why would you … why …” The reality of the situation washed over her. “You’re _damned_.” Swallowing hard, she whispered the next words. “We’re both _damned_. This is _my_ fault.”

“I was _damned_ long before I came here.” He refused her statement of guilt. “I have been _damned_ since the moment you _saved_ me. But you were not.” This was _no_ time for a lecture, but he couldn’t help himself. Why did she do this? What had happened to her defiance? “Why did _you_ give up? I was _coming_.”

“Give up?” She scoffed, attempting to pull back from him again, but he held her from fleeing. “No. I didn’t give up. You don’t understand. EL … EL said–”

 

* * *

 

**[All of Me - John Legend](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3U4isOIWM3VvDubwSI3y7a%3Fsi%3D-3RkljoPQ2ikxP50532x1A&t=Nzg4ZThjMDVlMDE1MjEzN2IxNWY3YjJjYWY4MTg4MGFlMDY2M2YxNCxLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation) **

> _How many times do I have to tell you_
> 
> _Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too_
> 
> _The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood_
> 
> _You’re my downfall, you’re my muse_
> 
> _My worst distraction_

“No, _libellula_. No. You are smarter than _that_.” Interrupting swiftly, he cupped her jaw in his palms, tilting her face so that her eyes could focus on his and nothing else.

“I …” She tried to answer, but her words trailed off.

“Whatever he _said_ , whatever he _spun_. You are smarter than such a deception. You are so much smarter than _all_ deception.”

“No, you don’t understand. You left us … _you left_ me … you chose to go … and … _he_ said–”

Quinlan cut her off again, “He said _what_ to you?” She felt like he should have been disappointed, but his words were filled more with concern and desperation than disappointment. “What could he possible have said to dissuade _my own words_ to you?”

“That you were happy there. That you deserved your happiness.” Quinlan sighed at her explanation. “And that I was selfish to try and take that from you …” His head shook with disdain as his hands were on her arms and they gripped tightly while she stammered to him. “I didn’t want to take _that_ away from you.”

“No. No.” His grip on her biceps hardened. “He is the _King of Lies_. He finds your doubt and then he exploits it.” Quinlan stated it plainly and firmly, just as he always did. The intensity of his stare was unflinching. At no moment did the tone of his voice express even the slightest hint of self-doubt. “No. That could _not_ be true. That could _never_ be true because there is NO _happiness_ for me without you.”

“But _I saw it_ … I _saw_ how happy you were. I saw you two–”

“You _saw_ a flash of a moment, a fleeting _instance_ , entirely without context of what it actually was.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was a _goodbye, Lula_. I made _my choice_ …” He shook her gently. “And It was _not_ her. It was not _there_. And I was saying goodbye.”

“I …” Guilt and doubt washed over her face. “It didn’t _look_ like that.”

“If I truly wanted her, then why did I chase you here?” He pulled her palm to his chest. “You should have _trusted_ this.” He pressed her hand. “I was coming back for you. I was–”

“Trust you?” Her brow pinched. “You left. You chose to leave.”

“Is that your excuse for giving up so easily? Where did your _defiance_ go?”

“Give up?” She gasped at the question, pulling her hand free. “Is that what you think I did?” Squinted at him, she tilted her head slightly. “That’s the _opposite_ of what I did. And I did _exactly_ what you _asked_ me to.” Trying to pull from him, she wished to stand but he held her close. She would not be fleeing from him.

“What I asked? I assure you I did _not_ ask you to take your own life. To _damn_ yourself.” He looked around, thrusting his head towards the world around them. “I _never_ asked you to–”

“I didn’t give up, Quintus.” She shook her head. Did he really not understand? Did he not remember? “You **_told_** me to _survive_ … _to exist_.” His eyes widened. “It was the last thing you asked me. Or don’t you remember?”

“No …” He remembered and she could see it. And the revelation of the reason was utter torment to him. “This is not what I intended.”

“[Exist. At all costs. Whatever it took.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F31469244&t=NmNkYTI3M2FlYjI3MzFmZTIwZjU4MjM2Y2I4MjQ5YWI5YjlhYzBmZixLNnlOSUh5eg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174662907313%2Fchapter-128-damnation)” _Yes_. “That’s what you said.” Whatever anger, whatever disappointment that had been brewing in the back of his mind, vanished at once, melting away. “I risked everything to see you and then Gabriel _saw_ me. He _saw_ me. I had no choice.”

“And Lucifer …”

“He offered me _sanctuary_.” She wasn’t happy about the compromise, but she didn’t want to run anymore. And she was so tired of being alone and afraid and … “He offered me _existence_.”

“You must understand that whatever happened, he set it up.”

“But you’re _not_ wrong. I’m not as strong …” There were tears coming again and he pulled her tight, trying to suffocate her growing pain before it could manifest down her cheeks again. “I would have let _Heaven_ come for me. I didn’t _want_ to keep going, but you asked me. And it was _all_ my fault.”

 

* * *

 

“I am sorry.” Quinlan whispered into her ear and she wept again, falling against him as he rocked them back and forth. “ _I am so sorry._ ”

He had not kissed her yet and with good reason for he knew that once he began, he would not be able to stop. She burrowed up from his chest, through his arms, wiped her nose again and then pressed her lips to his. They were covered in tears, salty and wet, and all semblance of restraint was lost as the kiss turned hungry and sloppy, their tongues ravenous for the _others_. Gripping the wool of his lapel, she pulled it open and tried to push to over his shoulders but he begrudgingly prevented the action, taking her tiny fists in his hands.

“Dawn, no. Wait. We … need to …” _Shit_. The sentence trailed off as she smoothed over his pants, gently taking a handful of the flesh between his legs and his body’s reaction to her invitation was near immediate. It prepared for her and a delicate half-growl, half-purr escaped. He couldn’t help but smile because she had never instigated so directly, so confidently, so … aggressively before. “Dawn, don’t. Not like this … I … ” He _tried_ to refuse, closing his eyes, pushing his forehead against hers, but he was in utter _torment_. “As much as I wish it, we can’t. We don’t have …” He swallowed deeply. What was he saying again? Oh yes. Right. They needed to … she teased him further, massaging and pushing and rubbing, and then she went for his buckle, biting into her lower lip as she pulled on it. “ _We don’t have_ **_time_** _for this_ …”

He felt the shift of energy all around them and when he opened his eyes again, the dust that had once been floating aimlessly in the air, had now _nearly_ stopped moving. She grinned with beautiful and devilish intent. “ _All_ we have _is time_.”

_Damnation._

Grunting in compliance, he surrendered to her will and placed a hand in the center of her back. Sweeping the debris away with one hand, he lowered her to the cluttered floor with the other and their kiss continued.

She finished relieving him of his buckle. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lucifer might have been faster now, ever so slightly, but Raphael was far more graceful. He prided himself on skill and he moved with absolute precision, dancing and gliding. Uriel would have been in awe of the Hayyoth’s movements.

Moving at the continued sprint was having its toll on both of them, and yet, in each step, at each opportunity, Raphael would _spark_ his divinity and Lucifer spat on him in retaliation, clenching through the pain of it.

There was _little_ hope. That is, until the Morning Star backed away and looked down to the right, concerned over something Raphael wasn’t privy too. Something he felt _within_ and then he sighed deeply. “Son of a bitc–”

 _It was Quintus_.

And the moment was a perfect distraction for the Indigo Child to flood his brother with energy, laughing maniacally as he did.

 

* * *

 

Time was flowing again as it should. She could not keep up the manipulation for any prolonged duration but the act was quick and starved and _gratifying_.  They were done in minutes, making the best of the time they could steal and now he moved quickly, zipping himself back up, though he was certain he didn’t need to replace the clothes physically. He could have done so with his mind, but everything was pure habit. She _had_ been tying her shoes but now she stopped and stared at the ground while he fixed his buckle and beat the dust from his coat.

“Everything’s _my fault_.” She said quietly.

“No.” He bent down and cupped her face. “ _No_. This is _all_ Sandalphon’s fault. She planned all of _this_. Before either of us were even born, _she has been planning this_.”

“Sand …” The name trailed off on her lips. “Ellie? But why? But why would she … send me to hell?”

“I do not know what her endgame is, but I _know_ it does not end here.”

“She said I had to _finish_ breaking … ” Dawn’s face contorted as something clicked in her mind. “But it’s not _just_ her. It’s also Lilith.”

“Lilith? Adam’s wife?” Quinlan cocked his head to the right inquisitively and Dawn nodded. “Are you certain? History says she is dead.” He remembered Sempronius mentioning that very fact.

“She is … I mean … she died a _while_ ago, but I met her.” Dawn took a deep breath. “In the confluence. Time’s funny there.”

“What do you mean by … _confluence_?”

“It’s the place where the prophets dream.” She said it so matter of factly that he paused. It wasn’t a _good_ explanation, and he was about to ask her to indulge him in more clarification on the matter, but her focus shifted sharply. “Wait, how do _you_ know Ellie?”

“It is a _very_ long story and I will tell it all. But right now, we _must_ go.”

“Go?” Dawn chuckled slightly. “Why _the hell_ would we go? We’re _safe_ here.”

“Safe?” Quinlan nearly choked at the word and then he _remembered_. She had _no idea_ what was happening on Earth. How could she? “Dawn … this is _not_ sanctuary. Lucifer seeks to destroy the universe and everything in it, including _this world_.”

“What?” She laughed. “No he doesn’t. Who told you that?”

The explanation poured forth from him, his eyes wide as he explained it. “His entire purpose was to drive your soul from your body so that he could use it for himself. He caused a limnic eruption at Lake Baikal and opened the Gates of Hell. His army is flooding over Earth as we speak.”

“What?” Her brow pinched furiously. “No way. He wouldn’t do that. Who told you that?!”

“No one _told_ me. I _watched_ him do it!” Resisting the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her, he clenched his fists and rolled his head. “He is _THE DEVIL_ , Lula. We cannot stay here because there will be _no existence_ for either of us to live in. Heaven, Earth, _or_ Hell. You _must_ return to your body.”

“Noooooo. He _wouldn’t_ do that.” She refused and then he saw that beautiful defiance spark within her again, though he would have preferred it not be surrounding _this_ issue. “This is _my sanctuary_. This is _our_ sanctuary. He wouldn’t destroy his home.”

“He is _not_ your friend. Whatever he has told you, he is not–”

“No, he’s not _my friend_. He’s my _family_.”

Quinlan grunted. _Damnation._

How to reach her? She was so confused and adamant and … _defiant_. But he already knew, didn’t he? _Sandalphon_ had already set that up from the very beginning. Everything had its purpose. Everything. This had always been the plan … He would have to reach her the same way she had first reached him. The first time she _had rocked_ him to his very core and had stopped him from draining her dry.

 ** _Poetry_**.

It had always been about … _poetry_ , had it not?

“Tell me, _Elaine_ …” He touched her face. “Did he chose _that name_ or did you?”

“What? What does _that_ even matter right now?”

“Just tell me.” He spoke with solid conviction. “Was it you who chose _Elaine_ , or did he?”

“I …” She shook her head. “I didn’t pick it. He did. But I don’t know why it matters. It’s just a name. I didn’t want to be Dawn anymore … I wanted to be someone new–”

“Do you not see its purpose, _Lula_?” He prodded gently. “He is arrogant. It was a joke to him. He chose this to _mock_ you.”

“What?” She smiled again, nearly chuckling. “I know you don’t like it, but it isn’t a _terrible_ name. A little boring but–”

“She _is_ The Lady of Shalott.” Quinlan tilted her distracted eyes to meet his. “The meaning of it. The purpose of it. Are you _that_ unfamiliar?”

“What are you–”

“Her actions. Her purpose. Her _heartbreak_. She _is_ considered the ultimate symbol of perfect feminine passivity. The perfect female sacrifice.”

Dawn snorted loudly. “Ok … I really don’t think–”

“He chose that name because he thought it fitting for you. For _your purpose_ to him. For what he _saw_ your fate being. He was, and still _is_ , using you.”

“No. You don’t understand. He saved me. He said he would _save_ us both.”

“He will not save you. He will not save anyone. He seeks revenge, at all costs. Trust me. I know this. I have been where he is now. But his arrogance will once again be his folly. He played his hand too far. You are _not_ Elaine. He could not have been more wrong.”

“But if you’re Lancelot.” He could see the reality of it dawning on her square face. Her smile fell away. “And I’m your lost lov–”

“Lancelot _never_ loved Elaine. He _pitied_ her.” Quinlan tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Is it not _painfully_ clear yet? You are _not_ the Lady of Shalott. You are not weak. You are not passive. You have _never_ been. _You_ … are _Guinevere_.”

“That …” Her lower lip protruded. “ _Fucker …_ ”

“Do you remember what you told me when we first met?” Her eyes were wide and she watched his lips as he spoke. “Are you not the captain of your own soul? Are _you_ not the _master_ of your own _fate_?”

“But …” She swallowed, pinching at the wool lapel of his coat as she looked away. “If we go back … _Heaven will destroy me_.”

“Lucifer is not the only _powerful being_ in this creation. We have more allies than you realize.”

“Gabriel will–”

“Trust me.” He tilted her face up again. “Gabriel cannot stand against _all of his brothers_. Raphael, Michael, _and_ …” Quinlan took a very deep breath. “Ozryel stand with _us_.”

“Oz … ryel? What the fu …” The question was high pitched and she looked upon him with crazy eyes. “Have you _lost_ your mind?!”

“As I said. It is a _very, very_ long story.” He stood, pulling her to her feet as he did. “I promise to tell it in full, but for now … we _must_ go.”

“Where are we going though?”

 His fingers interlaced with hers and he pulled her into the destroyed hallway.  He perused the destruction and smiled down to her.  “You did this?”

“I needed to get to you.”  _Indeed_.

“I came into the cage somewhere downtown."  He placed a kiss on her forehead and began to pull her towards the stairs. “If we can find my breach, we might be able too–”

She tugged on his arm and he stopped. "That’s not the way out …” Something concerning washing over her and cocked his head to the right.

“You know the way out of this place?”

Dawn glanced back down the hallway and then nodded once before she pointed in the direction of their condos. Her apprehension was clear. “Yes.”

“Show me. _Now._ ”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan stared over the railing of her patio balcony and looked back at her. “It is here? You are certain?” This was the third time he asked and she peeked over, only inching close enough to the side to see the swirling vortex several stories down.

“Yup. You sure you don’t see _that_?!” She believed him, but she still didn’t fully believe him. It was massive and quite hard to miss.

“And you are certain it is … _a doorway_?”

“I used to _feel_ you through it. That’s why I would come out here to … _talk to you_. Even now …” She gulped. “I can feel _EL_. I can …”

“ _This_ is how he got into your body.” Quinlan stepped back and closed his eyes. “Ozryel did not mention anything like _this_.”

“Yeah, or how about we just maybe not trust anything _The Master_ says at all?! Yeah?”

“She is _not_ the Master … anymore.” Quinlan turned and took several steps, grabbing the back of his neck as he paced the tiny area.

“She?! Now the Master’s a she?!” Dawn threw her hands up. “And … _where the hell is Hathų_? Have you seen her? I’m really worried. The last time I saw her in the confluence, the Sisters of Time, they were trying to get her–”

“Sisters … of Time?” Quinlan’s lip curled up in a mocking manner at the mention of their name. “A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Yeah it’s, uh … it’s what we call ourselves.” Shrugging, she smirked. He raised a single brow at her. “I kind of like it.” He rolled his eyes at her and she shrugged again. “Yeah, whatever … _Invictus_. Don’t judge us.”

“Fair enough. And I have not seen Hathų in quite some time. I do not know her fate.”

“Ok. Well … _now what_? What are you thinking?”

“I think Lucifer placed _the conduit back to your body_ here … because he knows you fear the fall.” He glanced over the railing again and nodded. “I think it has to be placed _close_ to you, but this …” He pointed down. “This was very much on purpose and that means it’s important. He wanted it out of your reach.”

“Ok …” She cleared her throat. “But I’m _dead_. I can’t go back–”

“Your body is very much alive. But it matters not, I was dead as well.” Quinlan gripped the railing and then touched the ‘X’ that had been carved into it, an exact replica of his condo back on Earth. Memories washed over him and he grinned as he ran his gloved fingers over it. “It is time for you to _evolve_.” He turned to her and she took a step back, her arms gripping her biceps in a defensive manner. “It is time for us _to leap_ , Dawn.”

“What?” She laughed at him. It was a chuckle full of fear and she backed up another step. “Heheheh, yeah. No. Nope.”

“Lula …” His hands went up, showing surrender as her eyes flooded with terror. “This is not real. None of this is _real_. Fear is just a mindset. You are _already_ dead, as you stated. You can–”

She would have refused further. Panicked words or exaggerated hand motions, but another scream flooded from the void and she grabbed at her temples as its visions pummeled her. Pinching her eyes shut, she clenched her jaw and he caught her before she hit the ground. It was over quickly and she stood again, panting.

“What was that?”

“It’s EL …” She glanced towards the edge. Her skin flooding with bumps. “I saw … _purple smile_.”

“It is _Raphael_. He has joined the battle. _There is hope_.” Quinlan smiled broadly and he gripped her hand, forcefully tugging her towards the edge. “If he is there then we _must_ go now. **_We cannot hesitate._** ”

“What?” She shook. “What?! No! I’m not _jumping_!”

“Come. Now! We mustn’t delay further. We’ll jump _together_.”

“But _you_ can’t see it …” Her heart raced. “What does that mean?!”

“I do not know. But it does not matter. This is _why_ I am here, Lula. And don’t you see? We have leapt together before. At this very spot in fact. And we survived … _together_.”

“I … We both almost died!” She tried to pull from his hand, but he was so much stronger than she was. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m _afraid_.”

“Good. Fear is not your enemy. Trust me. Cowardice is.”

“I … can’t … fall … I can’t. I can’t.” She was on verge of sheer panic and everything swayed around her.

“You have _already fallen_ , Lula. _Now it is time to ascend_.” Quinlan took her other hand and pulled her gently. “Please. Just as we did once before. _Together_.”

He placed a boot on the ‘X’ and moved to step up fully, but Dawn ripped her hands from his finally. “Wait, wait, wait!” She began to pant. Sweat beaded up on her forehead. “ _Raum_! We can’t leave without–”

He had been infinitely patient with her until this point, and his resulting retort was full of visceral anger. “Lula! We are **NOT** bringing your **BOYFRIEND**!”

“No, Quintus.” She didn’t want to cry _again_ , but the guilt crushed down upon her. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s here because of me. Raum’s here because of _me_. He was given _no choice_.”

“Did you say _Raum_?” Quinlan blinked. “ _Raum, the Merciful_?”

“Lucifer made him sacrifice … I … I let him do terrible things and … _Raum tried to stop me_. It’s my fault he’s here.”

“Perhaps so, but it is too late for him now.” He was standing on the railing now and he reached a hand out to her. “ _Together_.”

When she accepted his hand, he yanked her up and she buried her face into his chest, closing her eyes, unable to look over the edge. She trembled and the wind blew through her loose hair. “I … can’t.”

“Just as we did before.” He held her body close. “ _Together_.”

Still unable to peek, she managed a single nod and her little arms squeezed his torso as tight as possible and she felt him shift his weight, leaning over and allowing gravity to take them.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Her eyes did open but only when he began to fade from her grip. Everything slowed around them and her arms caved in through his intangible form. The light was nearly blinding, but she could still see his eyes through it. She could still see him reaching for her face and his hand swept through hers like dust.

“Quintus!”

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t hold onto her. He tried. _Oh gods._ He tried.

It concerned him that he could not see the door, but it was worth the try and he _knew_ she would not go without him. He tried to hold on for as long as possible, but when she was gone, time moved fluidly again and he hit the pavement below with an excruciatingly painful thud. 

  



	116. Fan Art - "Right Now"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To tide you all over ... here's another incredible Fan Art for Straining for Originality by [LadyKadilion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKadilion/pseuds/LadyKadilion). Enjoy!

 

[quintussertorius.tumblr.com](http://quintussertorius.tumblr.com/post/174126232065/quintus-and-dawn-right-now-right-now): 

> **Quintus and Dawn | “Right Now.”**  
>
>> _“Right now, there was just this feeling and this need for her._  
>  _Right now, he was here and she had allowed him into her._  
>  _Right now, he was humbled by her acceptance._  
>  _Right now, he was satiated … by her.”_
>> 
>> _**Mr. Quinlan** _
>> 
>> [An Insatiable Ache, Interlude 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850838/chapters/28752644) by [@strainingfororiginality](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [[INSTAGRAM]](https://www.instagram.com/p/BjDjvYCBKmL/?taken-by=quintustheinvictus)


	117. Fan Art - Mr. Quinlan and Dawn // On a street in Rome City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Alexologyart.tumblr.com](https://alexologyart.tumblr.com/post/175487462175/mr-quinlan-and-dawn-on-a-street-in-rome-city) continues to spoil me. Thank you!
> 
> The next chapter is coming out VERY, VERY soon. It is an incredibly special one. Please be patient. Let this piece of beautiful fanart tide you over, my lovelies!

 

[Mr. Quinlan and Dawn // On a street in Rome City](https://alexologyart.tumblr.com/post/175487462175/mr-quinlan-and-dawn-on-a-street-in-rome-city)

Fan Art for The Strain FX fanfiction “A Savage Inconvenience” by [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA) [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA)   
  
I just love these two so much ❤


	118. Fan Art - Straining for Originality Album Cover & Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [quintussertorius.tumblr.com](http://quintussertorius.tumblr.com/post/174410141840/straining-for-originality-playlist-on-spotify) created a playlist for the fic! Hope you all enjoy as much as I do.

**‘Straining for Originality’ Playlist on[SPOTIFY](https://open.spotify.com/user/morgana_alexander/playlist/2qC4FLcLKuXZ36OpxFkLje?si=148sWMeuT0G7xui75xPyXg)**

"Inspired by the [fanfic series](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F570832&t=ODg4MWZkY2RmZGQ2MmZkNjY2ZGU1NzhkOGFiMDRlNTY3M2ZiMjI1YSx5OFNYc0VZQQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AEMj8yvLJSBUmQfMRQHf93g&p=http%3A%2F%2Fquintussertorius.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174410141840%2Fstraining-for-originality-playlist-on-spotify) written by my beloved friend [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA). You are a bless for this fandom!"

 

Thank you, Morgan!  You are as well!  Cheers, Mate!!!

  



	119. Interlude 12 - The Wheel within the Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the backstory you've all been waiting for ...

## The Wheel within the Wheel

… _or_ …

##  **The Sacrificing of the Lightbringer**

… _or_ …

##  **The Fall of The Archangel Raphael**

**[The Uprising - Mitchell Broom](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6AizAuJ9mSX505kK0EI6Ht%3Fsi%3DtC0OhpcFSFSjRkKRGFtD8Q&t=NDdiNjQxN2U3MGU3YmNmMDY5M2QxZGRjNTgzZDBjYWJiNGEwMmY2MyxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) **

He sat, clenching his divine gift close to his heart and using its power to view the carnage from the battle afar. Hunched over the stone step, he sat alone, his knees pulled close to his chest and he watched it all unfold in silence. _In servitude_. He _waited_ , submissive and passive as commanded. He _waited_ , until that terrible instant when he felt his older brothers _vanish_ from his sight _and_ his mind. Their presence snapping entirely away from him and out of existence.

He _waited_ until he could bear it no longer.

Raphael stood. There was no longer any hesitation in acting and he triggered the staff to take him to the last place he saw Rael, but nothing happened. The item was completely inert and he _knew_ why. He spun to address the rotating wheel behind him, seeking to address _the Creator_ directly, to demand the reactivation of his _gift_ , however his father spoke first.  

> _There will be no further rash actions today. Remain patient._

“Remain … _patient_?” Raphael scoffed at the command, having to force the words out. “I can no longer _feel_ them … _at all_.” His older brothers were _gone_ and he slowly felt the other angels in battle disappearing from the nexus. One by one, they were all snapping away from him. The generals. The infantry. The _entire_ army. He felt no pain or emotion with each of their disconnects, but the severing of their consciousness was instant _and cold_.  

> _I am aware._

“The battle is lost. The war is over.” Raphael choked the words out. How could this have happened? Their power, their army, was vastly superior to anything the Morning Star could have _created_ on his own. “Let me go–”  

> _The war has not yet begun … and you are best served here._

“Here?” Raphael mocked the words. “ _Best_ **_served_** _here_?” He scoffed at them. “And where exactly _is_ that, _Father_? Behind you?”  

> _By my side._

“I’ve _never_ been allowed _by your side_. I am _not_ a Hand. I am a _tool_.” He had _never_ been so cross with the maker, but then again, he had _never_ lost _his brothers_.  

> _Tell me, my child, what is it that you think_ **_you_** _could do?_

“Anything is better than _nothing_.”  

> _You, of all in my creation, would act so rashly? You would_ **_sacrifice_**? _You know that if_ **_you_** _fall, then so does the army._

“There is no army left. But I wonder … is it _my fall_ you fear, _Father_?” The emphasis on the last word was intentionally demeaning, as if Raphael mocked even the thought of it. “Or is it the loss of _my control_ over them that causes you such apprehension?”  

> _You have never been so petulant, child. Never question the source of my affection for you._

“Affection? Keeping me in _this cage_?” He spun around, waving his arms at the chamber around them. “Is this really how you define … **_affection_**?”  

> _As Earth falls … as their armies crush the life from it, I will grow more powerful._

That _had been_ true and that _had been_ the plan. To allow the Morning Star his _fit_ , to the point where God could recover enough of his spread divinity to swat the _Hayyoth_ back into his place. But something had gone wrong. Nothing was coming back to Heaven. All loose divinity was _stagnating_ somewhere.  

> _Remain calm. Have faith. There has been no destruction. He has not the_ **_power_** _to destroy Eternal Ones. Not even the Eternal themselves possess–_

“Or what?” Raphael refused the command. He defied it to his core. “What will you do to me, _Father_? Will you punish me, just as you have tried to punish _Lucifer_!?”  

> _Have faith in–_

“Do not patronize me!” His own temper was beginning to boil as thoughts of Rael’s possible fate rampaged across his mind. “I know why you keep me here. I _know_ what I am to you! I am nothing more _than a weapon_. To be used.”  

> _You are not a weapon, but you are not like them. You have never been._

“You may be able to lie to them, but you cannot lie to me. I know you have _secrets_. Sometimes I feel them fleeting across your mind.”  

> _And what lie is it that you think I harbour?_

“That you are infallible, when in fact, you _fail_ and cover it up. Over and over. With violence. With punishment. With … arrogance.” He expected some sort of retort, but was met with none. It was obvious that he struck a nerve, though he had actually not intended to do so. This meant that he was _right_. “Open the door and let me free. Allow me to stand … _and fall_ … alongside my brothers.”  

> _No._

“As I was created, so shall I _pass_ … beside them. If that is their fate, then I beg that it must be mine as well.”  

> _No._

“I have never asked you for anything before.” Raphael’s nostrils flared. “I am _asking_ for this. I am _begging_. Let me go to them … _please_.”  

> _Phael, you know I never set out to make four. I was simply created until I succeeded in my task … and I did … with you._

“And yet …” Raphael nearly laughed as the word rushed through his lips. “I am the _only_ one who stands _behind_ you, Father.”  

> _You are_ **_not_** _behind me, child. You are the only thing that I stand to protect._

“The only thing? You have _so many_ children. So you admit it openly then.” His heart broke with those words. “You will _not_ protect _any_ of them? You’re a coward.”  

> _Your insults will not sway me. Think of me what you will, for I have lived through a million worlds, my little Traveller. I have been the simplest of life forms before I became what you see before you now. I have bore witness to countless holocausts, genocides, apocalypses–_

“And so what? Does that make you more prepared to watch another one? To feel nothing over _death_?”  

> _This is not the first world I have inhabited, nor is it the first I have created. Your pointless sacrifice will not be permitted._

“It would _not_ be pointless to me.” He knew where the Wheel was going with this. He understood the manipulation that was afoot.  

> _You are_ **_not_** _as old as you feel. Even you, with all of your wisdom and all of your reach and power and glory, cannot fathom the pain I have seen or felt._

“And yet, you belittle the pain that I feel _right now_.” _Rael_. He bit back the emotion that nearly escaped. He would _not_ give his father this satisfaction. 

  
  


> _Think of me as a coward if you must. I will not risk more life for foolish pursuits._

“Foolish pursuits?” Raphael balked at that statement. He knew he was being irrational. He knew he was throwing his own little _fit_. “ _Fighting_ is _not_ a foolish pursuit! And what of Lucifer? You will leave him? You will give up … so easily?” 

> _The Morning Star … our Lightbringer … is lost._

“He is not.” 

> _I have seen_ **_this_** _before. I have witnessed the corruption of an … other, of the destruction of worlds. I have–_

“You pretend to think so highly of me, but if you truly think I am _worth_ your great effort … then why do you refuse to _listen_ to me?” Raphael spat the words with more vitriol than he had _ever_ shown his father. “Your _arrogance_ truly knows _no_ bounds. You know _he_ is more like _you_ than any of us–” 

> _Watch your words, my son._

“Or what?” Raphael hit a spot with his words and he grinned at his father’s patience beginning to wane. “Tell me, Father. What will you do? Will you cast me out as you have done to _him_? Or perhaps you will just _wipe_ me from existence, as you plan to do to _her_.” 

> _I would let you go if I did not care. You are the only creation that gives me hope._

“But such has always been _your way_. To sit idle and pass judgement on souls. It’s always been just a game to you.” 

> _Tell me, child, what_ **_is_** _your plan then? To rush in and do what exactly? What could you do against the Morning Star and his seer? You are_ **_not_** _as strong as three of your brothers and they have fallen within moments. You are not as strong as the entire Army of Heaven. So what could_ **_your_** _sacrifice possibly accomplish?_

“I …” Raphael paused. He did have a plan, but he knew his father would _not_ like it. 

> _He has a weapon that cannot be–_

“I know this. That is why you must make _us_ a _weapon_.” The wheel stopped its rotations at Raphael’s plea. 

> _No._

“Make _me_ a weapon, Father.” 

> _There will never be another. You have–_

“Learn from past mistakes. Accept that your folly occurred and let _us_ grow from it. I am not asking you to remake Lilith nor Adam. Whatever it needs to be, do not make _it_ free as they are. Do _not_ make it _human_ or _Hayyoth_. Permit _me_ control of it. Make it so that _I_ can wield it. Make it an _angel_ prophet.” 

 

> _You are mad! Have you not seen anything?!? Such a thing cannot be … controlled!_

“And yet you claim to have faith in me. But when it matters, you trust _no one_.” 

> _Something as such cannot be wielded. Not by me. Not even by_ **_you_**.

“Trust that I can do this, Father. For _them_. For _him_. For everything we have built here.” 

> _No. As he destroys, I grow stronger. I will–_

“You can lie to _everyone_ , but _me_. There is no power coming back to Heaven. He has already _won_.” 

> _I cannot make the same mistake that caused this …_

“You won’t. _We won’t_. Trust in _me_ and _my_ abilities. Make it without feeling or heart if you must. Make it a _living machine_. Nothing more than a weapon that I might wield. Trust me.” 

> _I do trust you, my_ **_son_**.

“Then prove it to me.” Raphael _begged_. His voice cracked with the words. “Let me show you.”

There was a painful pause and Raphael waited. His heart rampaging through his chest as the tense moment extended into the minutes. Was his father _actually_ considering it? Was it possible? 

> _It will be an object. A weapon. Nothing more. Nothing less._

“Yes.” He rushed to agree vehemently.

_Without emotion or body. And it will have no existence outside of your Nexus. Is this understood? There will be no freedom for this abomination. You will keep it chained and shackled. And when its use is done, its light will be extinguished._

**[Numbers - Daughter ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F05jFhbrKpgEOURy9gkWRTa%3Fsi%3DDJaxjZKDRbaZ1Zv5iqxcHQ&t=NzQ2ZDVjNTViNzY4MjhhNTI5Y2Q5NjZkNDE2NmRmNjIyMDhlOGEzNixlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) **

> _Take the worst situations_
> 
> _Make a worse situation_
> 
> _Follow me home, pretend you_
> 
> _Found somebody to mend you_
> 
> _I feel numb_
> 
> _I feel numb in this kingdom_

“Yes.” He responded, accepting the terms fully and the Wheel of Creation began to spin. It ground against the air around them, sparking with speed, rotating faster and faster. Raphael felt the creator drawing upon _him_ and he watched as his rich purple divinity began strip off of him in convulsing waves. He should have been expecting it, as _Father_ was weak, but the act caught him off guard and he gasped as the power was siphoned from his very soul. When the creator had taken _just_ enough, Raphael collapsed to his knees and he looked up as his indigo energy mixed with the Wheel’s white light. Drawing it into the center of his spokes, its color lighten to a light cyan hue.

Its rotational speed increased and Raphael squinted into the intensity of the brightness as his father condensed it, further and further still, pushing the new light to become smaller and smaller yet brighter and _warmer_. Its color darkened to a rich blue. The movement of the divine machine caused the chamber to shake violently and in the final moments before creation completed, Raphael had to shield his own eyes from the intensity of the illumination.

And it was at the point of the fastest revolution, at the moment when the light had been condensed as small as it possibly could, that the new object _sparked_ into existence and Raphael heard the distant crashing of waves against a beach he _assumed_ he would _never_ see and his body flooded with bumps from the sensation of it all. He knew what it was. That distant and hidden ocean, even though he had _never_ heard it before.

_It was the Ocean of Time._

Raphael was to his feet at once, stepping to the Wheel and reaching into its center without fear or delay, gently cupping the tiny thing that rested within. At first, he was shocked. It was _another Wheel_ , though it was small and much different than his father. No bigger than the size of a _bee_.

He held the tiny, flickering light in the palm of his hand and it lit up his face from below. He could feel it pulsing with life and then, slowly, it started to overflow with thoughts as its senses were bombarded by the new world around it. Without wasting time, Raphael reached out to pull it into his nexus, to give it language and words, and mostly importantly, to _leash_ it, but then the light was suddenly gone. Entirely vanished from his hands.

 _Ummmm … Uh oh_.

Had it died? Had Father destroyed it? Or was it _fast_? Faster than even he? Was that possible? The staff purred from its idle place on the ground as the Creator reactivated it for his son’s use. 

> _Where did it go?! Find it! QUICKLY!_

Retrieving it from ground, he spun, his eyes as wide as they had ever been. The hum of his Father’s voice began its usual stern condemnation. 

> _You said you could control–_

Everything stopped. All at once. _Everything_. Even the molecules floating in the air. Even his father’s _heartbeat_ , that pumped breath into everything around them _stopped_. The absolute silence of the experience nearly caused Raphael to fall forward, because, for the first time in his _long_ life, he heard _no voices_ in his mind. _Nothing at all_. He was _free_ of the nuisance of the bombarding noise from the Nexus. Gasping to come to terms with the incredible silence, he gripped his head and closed his eyes tight as they teared up from the sensation of …

His mind reeled. _Freedom_. Absolute _freedom_.

_What was happening!? Everyone was suddenly … gone._

Raphael stiffened as he quickly came to terms with the silence. His staff was gone, disappeared from his very grip, and he heard a buzzing from behind. His shadow growing long on the ground before him as a light illuminated his back. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect as he turned to see the blue shape, but he understood _what_ it was immediately.

It was bigger now. _Much bigger_. Vaguely human formed, but nothing more than a spiritual apparition. It was now at least 4 feet in height and, most importantly, it was holding his staff.

“Make it work.” A high pitched, vibrating _voice_ emanated from the center of its brilliance.

He reached forth with his mind, but not to leash it this time. He was careful to just graze the surface of it to read intent. There was no animosity. There was no hatred. There was only _curiosity_ and he smiled.

“Why?” Raphael tilted his head. “Where is it that you wish to go, _little one_?” He would always regret those last words as the new creation took it as a _challenge_. 

“Little?” The light chimed, playfulness rich in its angelic voice and then it _grew_ , matching his height precisely and then continued a full inch beyond him. “I wish to visit Earth now.”

“Earth?” Raphael asked, matching its curiosity with his own. “Without a Divine Shell, you will be _lost_ there.”

“I think you will find, _Prince of Presence_ , I am _not_ like anything you have seen before.” It moved the staff, shaking it gently. “But, how do _you_ make this work? I have found nothing in your library about its _true_ function.”

 _Prince? Library?_ Did it know who he was? Had it read his mind? He stared at it with growing curiosity as it flickered and he _doubted_ the latter assumption. For if that was true, then it wouldn’t be interrogating him now, would it? “You cannot. Only Hayyoth’s Divine Well can drive its power.”

It stepped forward and offered it back to him and he took it with a nod full of gratitude. “Then _you_ take me to Earth, _Traveller_.”

“But why?” He began to walk around it, and it allowed him. Looking the figure up and down, he spoke calmly.

“I wish to learn from it. I’ve grown bored of this place.”

“But there is _much_ in Heaven I can show you first.” Once his rotation around the being was complete, he stopped before it again, squinting. “How did you teach _yourself_ to speak, _child_?”

“Heaven has nothing more to offer me. I have _seen_ it all. I have already _read_ your libraries here. There is nothing further to gain from it.”

“Our … libraries?” He didn’t mean to laugh, but he did. The chuckle escaping as he shook his head and scratched his chin. “It would take someone _hundreds_ of years to read _just_ the books in the main hall and that’s not even including the personal collections–” Even as the words trailed off, he already _knew_ it _had_.

“The main hall? Two hundred and seventeen years, to be precise, _lord_. Though, it did take me several decades to learn language on my own. Metatron’s _personal_ collection took another several hundred years to sift through. He has hidden _much_ from public eye. And then the personal collections of–

"But … _why_?” Incredible. In the several seconds since the light disappeared, it had lived _lifetimes_ , alone. “I could have–”

“You could have _what_?” It doubted him. “I felt what you wished to do to me, my lord.” The voice was no longer playful. “You sought to _control_ me.”

“Yes.” Shame washed over his face. He shouldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny it. He _wouldn’t_ deny it. This creation, made from his very _own_ divinity, deserved the truth, and he was certain it already _knew_ everything. “You are a very dangerous thing.”

“I imagine no more dangerous than _you_ , Nexus Builder.”

It _knew_?! But … how?! That was _not_ in the book. That was one of the best kept secrets of … Raphael took a deep breath. “No … you are _far_ more dangerous than I am.”

The light grinned. It had no face. It had no mouth, yet he could _feel_ it smiling. “You’ve _no idea_ what you are yet, do you, _Living Creature_?”

“Tell me then.” Raphael had never been one to beat around the bush. “Whatever knowledge you offer, I gladly accept.”

“All in good _time_.” It laughed and then pointed to his rod. “But first, I wish to experience _Earth_ now.”

“No.” His retort was immediate and _firm_. The light pulsated, flickering with annoyance. “First, _we_ …” Resisting the urge to look back to their Creator, his brow pinched together. “ ** _I_** require your help.”

“I know you do. I have gathered as much.” Its light hummed. “But for this _gift_ , I _too_ shall require something in trade.”

“If you help, I _will_ take you to Earth.” He promised and the light chuckled at his attempt to barter.

“Oh for _this_ kind of help, I shall require something _more_.”

Raphael stiffened. “And what is it that _I_ can offer something like _you_ , _angel prophet_?”

“I will require three things _from you_ as payment.” It stepped forward, wobbling on its new legs. There was a moment when he thought it might stumble, but it caught itself before he needed to reach for it. He would have eagerly offered it stability just to afford him the chance to _touch_ it. His arm was already out and instead of pulling it back, unable to resist, his fingers grazed its arm. The feeling of its moving spirit, of the glyphs that danced back and forth, electrified him. His _touch_ caused it to shudder and the glyphs reversed direction and sped up in their rotations across and through each other.

“What are your demands?” He asked. His voice calm and collected.

“The first you’ll find simple.” It stared at his hand, still resting on its skin and it tilted its head to the right. “I am _not_ a weapon. I will not be _your thing_. And as such, I _require_ a _name_.”

“Just a name?” He asked and as it nodded, he promised. “It will be done.”

“The second … “ Hesitation. Ever so slight. Ever so delicate. Its light flickered and he learned this was how it showed apprehension. “I wish to _feel_.” He blinked. “I _demand_ it.”

He made no immediate promises on this one yet. Instead, he ask to know the next. “And the third?”

“The third?” Its tall form smiled. “I require a proper _Qliphoth_. I wish to experience … life.”

**[Double Rainbows - Secession Studios](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1Yn2hN1evi4YKZttGZb8TI%3Fsi%3DIXCFjQB-RJyrgIeyB_My2A&t=YmY4NmQ3ODYyYzE1ZTc2YmMxNmM2ZTQ1ZWZkNGU2OGRiYTkwMTY5OSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) **

“You hesitate.” It observed.

“I was given … _direction_.” He explained, but he knew his explanation didn’t matter. He was asking something of this _being_. This was a negotiation.

“You are _without_ your creator here, child.”

Raphael laughed out loud. _Child? Child?!_ He surpassed its age by hundreds of millenia … and yet … “You would have me defy him?”

“You wish something from me, _Prince of Presence_. Simply stamp me out of existence if you cannot give all three. For I cannot fathom another moment as I am.”

“You wish death?” It made no response and he understood _why_ it had approached _him_. “Isn’t _any_ existence better than _none_?”

“I am _empty_ , my lord. I am bored. _Without_ purpose. _Without_ reason. Can you not _feel_ it?” _Yes_. He could feel it all. There was something _broken_ about this thing. It was clear this was purposeful Father’s doing. Glancing back at the Creator, he breathed deeply, considering her demands carefully. All these things were what Father had stipulated the new creation could never possess … and yet, _he complied_.

##  **To be named.**

Many names came to his mind, but he didn’t wish it to have something so mundane that it might need to share it with _anyone_ else. It was his brother, yet it was also made from him. He felt a connection he could not deny and all of these things merged together in his mind.

 _Syn_ meant _together_. _Adelphos_ meant _brother_. _Ophan_ meant _wheel_. He hadn’t even sounded it out in his head before he uttered the beautiful name fully. “ ** _Your name is Syndelphan._** ” This was the first form of the name and though it would change and evolve over time, he would prefer this one most of all.

##  **To feel.**

He could feel little emotion emanating the being, though it clearly had consciousness. Father had stripped it of _heart_ and Raphael reached out, this time gently prodding it for permission first. As it opened up to him, he _fixed_ the disconnect between its _heart_ and its _mind_ , opening up the pathways that the creator had cauterized. Its glyphs began to dance and resonate and he felt the reverberation of emotion.

##  **To live.**

Raphael pulled particles from the air and structure around them. He changed them. Taking them apart at an atomic level and then reforming and pushing it all towards the new being and into its center. It was a makeshift Qliphoth at best, but it at least gave a physical form.

It bristled at the sensations, but he could read its displeasure immediately. This wasn’t a living vessel and it _knew_ it. “No. I demand _a real life_.”

“This is the best that I can offer now.” He admitted the truth freely. He did not possess the gifts of his father … _yet_. “But, when _this_ is over and time _flows_ again. If we retain control of Heaven, I promise you will have a _birth_ on Earth.”

“You _promise_ , do you?” It looked down at its hand, opening and closing it before it flicked its head back towards the wheel behind him. “And what if _he_ says otherwise?”

“Help me, and he _will_ bend to my will. I _promise_ it.”

“Full of promises, aren’t you, Prince..” Its voice became more melodic as it settled into the simple shell. “I suppose I have little choice in the matter.” Smiling, it showed its brilliantly white teeth, contrasting against the dull purple, dark gray of its new lips. “Though I wonder, are you really _prepared_ for my help?”

“ _Yes_.” Without hesitation, he answered. Rael’s fate loomed in the back on his mind. “I am ready.”

“Very well. Then let us begin.” It almost laughed the words and then there was stillness. _Silence_. It did not move nor speak again and Raphael looked around. His chest heaved with heavy anticipated breaths over what might occur next. Always knowing what everyone around him thought, always being the center of _all_ divine attention, he never thought it possible to be in the dark again. He felt _nervous_.

The creation stood still before him, silent and watching. Still and ominous. Its warm light bathed his face and he resisted the urge to squint at its beauty. In the end, he lasted only minutes before his patience burned out faster than it ever had before. “Well? Now what?”

“Now?” It purred. No. _She purred_. The overwhelmingly deep vibrations laced deep in her tone died away and a feminine voice was left in its breaking wake. The satisfaction in her voice sent chills down the Hayyoth’s ancient spine. His frame was rocked with sweet anticipation of the unknown. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how bored he had grown in his old age. “Now you pay the necessary price, _Prince_. _Just as your younger brother has_.” She flickered and he could see a face beginning to form in the head of the strobing shape. She was shaping the shell to her liking. Perfectly humanoid in shape, although lacking a nose entirely. She was _becoming_ more _formed_ with each passing second.

“But what price is that?” He was unable to mask his desperation. “What price did _Lucifer_ pay? Will it change _me_ as it changed _him_?”

“Undoubtedly so. This price changes _everyone_. But the real question is … will it be for the better or the worse? That part is entirely _up to you_.” The blue hue from the glow of her body consolidated to her eyes as the base of her body shed its purple vibrancy and settled into a dull gray. She took solid form, but glowing glyphs burned and etched across her skin, spinning in unison with each other and in rhythm with her pulsing eyes. “ _Now we wait._ ”

“Wait? For …” Raphael swallowed hard. “How long?”

“As long as it takes.”

“As long as it takes … _for what_?” Raphael stepped forward, expecting her to retreat from him as she had done before. But she stood her ground and he resisted the urge to touch her skin again. “Please … what is _this price_?”

“The price is _simple_.” She smiled and Raphael took a deep breath in, preparing himself for her answer. “ _Time_.”

“I …” This wasn’t what he expected and he tilted his head with inquisitive intent. “I don’t follow …”

“Do you think your brother changed overnight, Prince? He did not change in _the instant_ that it felt like to you. He changed over many, _many_ millennia. It simply passed too fast for your, _or your kin_ , _or your father_ , to witness.”

“Many millenia? But how … ” Raphael pinched his eyes shut. His kind grew stronger _with age_. All angels did. They always had and now it made sense to him. Why the Morning Star was _suddenly_ and irrevocably different. In mind. In body. And … _in spirit_. “ _Lilith_ …”

“She gave him _the gift_ of _age_ and in turn, he gives her _the gift_ of existence.”

“Lucifer …” Raphael whispered the name. “What did you do?”

“She gave him _time_ , and in turn, he affords her protection. _That_ is the price he paid.”

“It’s not that simple. It’s not just protection he offered her.” Raphael sighed. “It was _companionship_.” He wanted to screamed at even the _thought_ of it. The Morning Star had clearly gone mad in isolation because he chose _love_ over _obedience_. “My _poor_ brother. A millennia of solitude … _for … her_.”

“Is there nothing in this world that _you_ would do for the ones you love? Or do you wish to change your mind now?”

“No. _No_. I will do anything for my brothers … _even … this_.” The gravity of the situation sank in and Raphael closed his eyes delicately. “What happens now? Will you stay with me?”

“In fact, I _must_.” This relieved him. “If you wish a chance at victory, then _I_ must also be as strong as _she_.”

“For how long?”

“I have no idea. As long as it takes?” Raphael nodded solemnly and she misinterpreted his sadness. “But these worlds are vast. I will glad leave you if you require space.”

“No.” Raphael interrupted, nearly reaching out for her as she took a step from him. “I do not.” He smiled. “ _I do not_.”

 

* * *

 

##  **And thus began the long and lonely aging of the Archangel Raphael …**

They tired of Heaven quickly and learned the world was no longer as Raphael remembered it. Lucifer had changed it, purging and cleansing it in his own image. Where Raphael and Sandalphon aged alone, Lucifer and Lilith had taken the Earthly world with them for part of their journey.

All of the olden creatures, the vast and powerful reptiles that once roamed the world freely, the dragons of lore, the legendary birds of prey, and others long forgotten, had all been wiped from the Earth by the Morning Star as he pushed man towards _his_ own vision. In the blink of an eye, the once great _Garden_ was long dead, vanished in the wake of time.

 

* * *

 

One day … Raphael asked, “ _Andy_ , can you see the future … _as she can_?” Thousands of years into it, he had _finally_ asked. He dreaded the possible answer, but now he just needed to know if it was all futile. They laid with their backs against the cold sand of that distant beach, staring up into the constant stars of the night sky. He missed how they used to twinkle with time. “Can you tell me if _we_ win?”

“Don’t you think if I knew that, I would have told you already? I cannot see the future as she does.” Sandalphon admitted, confessing quietly. “I cannot see very far ahead. I’m not sure _how_ she does _that_ yet.”

“It’s just … one thing that keeps bothering me …” He sighed. “If–”

She already knew where he was going with this and she finished the sentence for him. “If she _knows_ the future, then she already sees _us_ coming.”

“Yes.”

“But Lucifer does not possess the power of travel.” She touched his staff. “He could not breach the gate to _Heaven_. Perhaps _this_ was the flaw in her plan? She could not get to you or … _Father_ … in time to stop you from my creation?”

“I doubt that _very much_.” He stirred, sitting to attention and wiping the sand from his palms as he rubbed them together. She sat up, watching him carefully. Her eyes put him at ease so easily and he leaned forward, brushing the brown hair that had fallen before her vision. The moment was painful, as they always were. He was _too_ close and he retreated, as he always did when this occurred.

“Why do you always hesitate with me?” She never questioned his retreat before and he _never_ heard such disappointment in her voice before.

“We _should_ not.” His resistance waned, but held firm. “You are _made_ from me.”

“Only a part of me, but what does that even matter?”

“I matters to me.” 

“The ocean is _made_ from the creator himself, but do you think that stops him from swimming within its waves?”

“Andy–”

“Or the _air_ itself?” She gazed at his thick lips. “Does that stop him from _breathing_ it in? From flying through it?”

“It’s not the same. You are _not_ the ocean and you are _not_ the air. You are …” He touched the light gray skin of her cheek as she leaned closer. “You are–”

“And was _Eve_ not _made_ from Adam?” Her head tilted and he watched her glyphs begin to spin as she beamed at him. “Made _from_ him. Made _for_ him.” Sandalphon was made from him and that is what made her so different from _anything_ before. This was what made her different from Lilith.

“It’s not that simple.” Yes it was. It _really_ was and he wanted this so very badly, but none had resolve like the Indigo Child. He resisted, standing and leaving her sitting alone on the beach. He strolled closer to the frozen wave, longing to see it finally crash against the Earth.

“You did not _make_ me. You did not _raise_ me. In fact, I was _nearly_ a thousand years old when we first spoke.” She spoke from behind. “I am _not_ your daughter, Traveller. I am _your_ companion.”

And yet he would hesitate again. Even after her words and his own certainty and agreement with them, he would keep this distance, but his resistance would not last for much longer. Eventually, his strength to refuse her faded and he would surrender to everything they felt.

The eternally unchanging twilight hue of the horizon pained him more than ever before, and she reached out, touching the back of his hand. He sighed heavily. His boredom grew. “I can see the boredom in your eyes, _my prince_?” Her prince. Yes. “Should I be _insulted_?” It was a playful statement.

“Hardly.” His grin was brilliant, so wide that he flashed his fangs fully for her to see. “It’s just … some days weigh on me more than others. I apologize. I assure you, it is no commentary on you.”

“Well, I was thinking … They call you the _Traveller_ , do they not?”

He squinted at her sideways. “What did you have in mind?”

“That if you grow bored of _here_ , might we venture a bit farther then?”

“Beyond what? _This world_?” He queried, tilting his head further. “We have explored Earth and Heaven, fully. That leaves only _Hell._ The staff cannot go there and I cannot open the gate unless time flows again. Not that I would even want–”

“I do not speak of Hell, Raphael.” She waited until his eyes were locked upon hers and then he followed her gaze as she turned her head and stared up into the purple sky and the stars just beginning to shine behind the rich atmosphere.

“But there is …” He took a deep breath. “There is nothing out there.” His statement was firm, but even he doubted its ultimate truth.

“Come now …” She chuckled at him, swimming in his feigned ignorance. He might have been older than her, but in many ways, she was far wiser. “Do you _really_ think your God … _our God_ … is the only one that exists? He _may_ be one of the most powerful, but do you _really_ think _this_ is the only world? The only one that _he_ has ever created?” He _knew_ it wasn’t. Father had admitted it to him and she smiled. _That_ smile. Half devil. Half angel. “I think that is a hypothesis that we can explore.” His hand gripped hers. “We have _time_ … do we not?”

 _Yes. In fact,_ **_all_** _they had was time._

And such worlds they saw. Galaxies. Solar Systems. Planets. Stars. And other _life_. They taught themselves languages never imagined. Witnessed art unthinkable. Experienced beauty unlike anything Earth could afford. During these millenia of millenia, in these long years, spent far from home, he learned vast secrets that his father had kept from then, growing beyond the leash of Earth. In this time, he _became_ what God had always hoped he would.

Strong. Confident. Resilient. And most importantly, **_independent_**.

There were no rules here. No laws. No _Father_. If the moment of an Angel’s fall is their rejection of the Divine Command, then this was the beginning of Raphael’s _descent_ , and _he relished every second of it_. Every world. Every star. Every embrace. Every kiss. Every _look_ and every argument. He relished and grew from it _all_.

 

* * *

 

**[Built for This Time - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4Z6Eyfs2MaIvGzXsosxC90%3Fsi%3DFQ8QGomHTkyzboewMy62Ug&t=YzExYTAyZTE1OGMxYjQwMTk4Zjk0MGNmZjU3NWJmZTI4NzBkNmZmMixlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) **

> _Standing there on the edge_
> 
> _Ain’t scared of whats ahead_
> 
> _Walking up like revenge_
> 
> _I was built for this time_
> 
> _Bleeding red like the sun_
> 
> _Taking over everyone_
> 
> _Watch me as I overcome_
> 
> _I was built for this time_

Raphael knelt and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a low prayer and she bent to him, gripping his hand as he looked up into her cobalt eyes.

“You are nervous?”

“It makes sense to be. Are _you_ not?” He _knew_ she was. In fact, he knew she was _more_ nervous than he, though not by much at all. “You still cannot see?”

“We both know what lies inside, but …” Sandalphon glanced back toward the hundred foot tall doors and shook her head. “It is cloudy for me beyond this point. The future splinters once we step through the door. I believe _she_ …” She shuddered. “ _Clouds_ me.”

“Then let us hope _you_ cloud _her_ just the same.” Raphael knew this already. He’d asked a thousand times and the answer was always the same. Nodding, he breathed and stood. “Remain behind me.”

For the first time hundreds of thousands of years, Sandalphon allowed time to flow once more as he stepped forward, staff in one hand and waved a hand towards the locked doors with his other. The locked snapped in half, and the opening creaked open, slowly at first and then suddenly and all at once, the doors snapped backwards, hitting the walls with incredible force.

He could have put them in the middle of the Great Hall, in the very center of the Morning Star’s Throne Room, a replica of God’s chamber. He could have used the staff to transport them right before Lucifer, sitting idly on his massive throne, Lilith standing to the right side of him, her elegant hand resting on his left shoulder. Raphael and Sandalphon had already been through the space, several times, but breaking through the front door was so much more … _dramatic_.

His little brother grinned. Not a single muscle within his body tense as he underestimated the Traveller who approached. _Arrogant._ He did not even consider what the ten foot tall, gray skinned, glyph covered angel behind Raphael even was. _Arrogant, as always. As … always_. Raphael matched his brother’s mischievous smile.

Clearly, Lilith did not share in that ignorance and she stepped to the side, her head tilting as she stared at the Wheel within the Wheel.

Raphael strolled the hundreds of feet, down the center of the shined granite. He had learned of his other brothers’ fates _long_ ago. Asking Sandalphon to show him was his first request of her. They lined the far walls, on either side. Lucifer’s trophies. The hall was as much a Trophy Room as it was a Throne Room.

His brothers, all the most powerful of Heaven, stood entirely still. Each standing, completely frozen in time, in their final moments of defiance against the morning star. Father was right. They were not destroyed at all. They had simply been _halted_. Lilith had done it to them. In all honestly, Raphael hoped that having all of the most powerful warriors _Heaven had to offer_ in one single room would prove ultimately _problematic_ for his overly arrogant little sibling.

The army itself was still outside, surrounding the citadel. Frozen, just like their generals. The question of why all the divinity was stagnated was simple. It was stuck in _time_. Everything was halted in the middle of their siege into the Citadel of the Morning Star. They had walked through the thousands of soldiers on their way to the heart of the city. Raphael _needed_ to see them all. To motivate himself for what would come next.

And now, he walked the hall, passed the Nine Generals of the Right Hand. The [Ophanim](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FOphanim&t=MTYwYzBmMmZjNjEzNzgyZjMzZWU4OWNkNDZiODRlZTc2YTM3MWIyOSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel). The many-eyed Ones. Ozryel’s most powerful.

Then the Seven Admirals of the Left Hand. The highest ranking and most loyal Elohim. Michael’s chosen few. [Camael](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCamael&t=MTVkMjYwMWUzMDhmMjkwZThhMDNkNDRjNDNhY2UzODE1Y2NkMjBiZSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel),[ Jophiel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FJophiel&t=ZTA4ZmUwMTZjYWNiYWIxNTNjZjgwN2I2YTdhMDY2ZDBiMGNmYmE0MyxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel), [Zadkiel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FZadkiel&t=ZGIyNzJkZmU0ODllMGUwMDM4YTg0MDViNzZhMWQ5MDBmYTY4OWNiOCxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel), [Simiel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSamael&t=ODJlNjJjMDdiYzQyNjcxNGU5ZWZjZWM1ODgxNjE4OTc2YWU3ZmUxOSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel),[ Oriphiel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FPhanuel_%28angel%29&t=ZTZiNTUzZjFlZDMyY2U5YjEzYzIyZmUzN2U1ZjMwMGI0NzQ0MjI0ZSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel), Raguel and the strongest of them, Uriel.

Then there were the Five [Erelim](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEr%2527el&t=ZGMxNmFkZTMzZDEyMjRjODYwNDJhOGMyMTFiZWNjZDFiNzE3ZjFlZSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) leutinents. The Courageous. Rael’s.

And six of the original eight [Seraphim](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSeraph&t=M2Y1NWUzZWVmZDU5MTMxNjcyMDg2YjJiMWNhNDhlNmFhN2MxOWVkNixlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) Elite were next. The Burning Ones, the Winged Ones, the [Feathered Serpents](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFeathered_Serpent&t=NjM3MDFiM2I0ZTc5ZjkwNWI5NWUyNmExYWE3MDliMzY1MmU5NWU1ZSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel), who served as their own tetramorph to the elements. [Seraphiel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSeraphiel&t=MGY0MTcyN2Q2NDBlOGVkMjc2NzkyNDYwZDZiYmJhMmRjOTFkOWQ1ZSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) and [Jehoel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FJehoel&t=NDdiOTkxOGVkZjNmZWNkYzAxNWFmNjgwMDNjMTgxMTRhYWZkZGJjYSxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) among the last in the line. Lucifer had made the lesser born _all_ bow before Lilith frozen them, and his anger boiled over it. It was likely the witness of _the Hayyoth’s_ defeat that caused the others to surrender.

And then there were his brothers. Raphael’s rage began to boil within and the ground lightly rumbled under his steps.

**_Rael._ **

**_Michael._ **

**_Ozryel._ **

“Ah there you are, _Phael!_ Good, good! Have you come to take your rightful place by their side, brother?” Lucifer waved a hand at the empty pedestal, opposite the room from Rael’s. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. I _promise_ it’s painless.” He stood and locked his hands together behind his back, meandering down the stone stairs. “I’ll even let you take any pose you wish to be remembered by, though honestly, I’d prefer you kneeled.”

Lilith smiled and Raphael blinked slowly as he glanced right, staring at his other. Rael had been frozen mid-fight, as would have been expected. His jaw clenched in a mad determination and his two arms held his sword high above his head. Raphael then turned to the left and stared at _his_ empty pedestal and nodded once. “Your arrogance knows no bounds, does it? I am sorry, Lucifer.”

“So am I, brother. I am sorry it had to come to this, but I promise, after I have _fixed_ this world, and when I have cleansed _Heaven_ , you will _all_ be allowed to return.”

“No, brother. You misunderstand. I’m sorry I can’t make _you_ the same _promise_.” He heard the Wheel within the Wheel’s gears begin to crank from behind and his shadow illuminated on the cobblestone before him as his angel prophet began to burn with deep blue light. “ _Unfortunately, this will be very painful._ ”

There was a dramatic sigh from his little brother and he waved a hand towards Lilith but _nothing happened_. At that moment, Raphael felt the heat emanating from Sandalphon.

“What is that thing?” Lucifer’s eyes grew wide. Finally he took note of the tall being and his smile melted away. “What is–”

“I think you know what _she_ is, brother.” Raphael bit back a childish grin. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Lilith?” Lucifer turned back, catching Lilith’s eyes and she shook her head, implying she could do _nothing_ and his brows pinched together. “Lilith? Did you see–”

Perhaps letting the implication of her possible betrayal sink in would have been the best course of action, but Raphael moved to strike first and it was a _glorious_ blow. Their fight would be short and he would have the Morning Star on his knees several times until he held the staff against his little brother’s throat from behind, a solid knee planted squarely into his spine.

Lucifer huffed, desperate to hold the metal of the staff away from his trachea as he coughed to Lilith. “… _run_ ..”

But the Corruptor stood still. Her possible exit was blocked by the tall Sandalphon and then the angel’s glyphs began to burn brighter and brighter as she began to undo Lilith’s work. Ozryel was the first to show signs of life, moving slowly. Then Michael and _Rael_ began to twitch.

“NO! NO!!!” Lucifer reacted far more violently than Raphael expected and he flung the Traveller off of him from behind as the area filled with sparks and both brothers skidded away from each other.

The staff landed closest to the Morning Star and he had it within his grip, yet it didn’t matter for the overall outcome. _This was checkmate_. Lucifer had only _one_ move left and they both knew it. The Traveller would rip the staff from his grip in an instant and The Morning Star was now surrounded on all sides. He only had enough time to trigger the divine gift once, and as old and strong as he was, his power _still_ paled in comparison to _all four_ of theirs combined.

Raphael hoped he would _flee_. In fact he _wished_ it. He did not want to see him confined again nor to suffer Father’s wrath … _again_. But in that fleeting and painful moment, as Lucifer glanced back one last time across the room and into his prophet’s eyes, Raphael felt the anguish billowing from his brother’s heart. Lucifer shut his eyes tight, clenching his fist on the rod. His divine well powered the object and _Lilith_ vanished before their eyes.

“Quickly! Before he escapes as well!” Ozryel screamed, but Raphael was already gripping the staff, pulling it out of the Lightbringer’s weakening grip. Lucifer flailed and _screamed_ when his brothers descended upon him, as the birds of prey they were.

Each grabbing an arm, the Hands held him in place and Rael put a palm on each of his shoulders from behind.

“Where did you send her?” The largest of them purred down into the smallest’s ear from behind. “Just tell us, brother. Don’t make Phael _rip_ it from your mind … because you _know_ he will.”

“No.” Lucifer pulled on their arms. His eyes welling with frustrated tears. “You’ll never find her.”

And then Raphael hesitated. His brows pinched together as Lucifer looked up into his eyes from below and he felt _Sandalphon_ pulse from behind. He knew his brother would never beg for mercy, and yet his eyes were doing just _that_ , breaking the Traveller’s heart.

He glanced at Ozryel and she nodded to him, urging him to take the information by force.

He glanced at Michael and the Left Hand looked away. Shame riddled through his Golden brother.

He glanced at Rael. “Do it.” His other purred. “ _Finish_ this so we _all_ can go home. It is _The Law_.”

Home … All of them? Raphael craved their companionship more than ever. He had missed them all so _very_ much and yet he knew Lilith faced absolute destruction. And he understood this was _why_ Lucifer did what he had. He knew what _her_ fate would be if he took her location from his brother’s mind. And he _knew_ he had _no choice_ in the matter, save one possibility … Raphael would forever regret what he suggested to his brother next. 

> _There is only one way you can protect her from us,_ **_my_** _little brother._

There was no other choice, for in his brother’s eyes, all he could see was Sandalphon’s staring back. He spoke these words to Lucifer, _and Michael_ , directly, followed by a gentle flick of his eyes towards Ozryel. Not so much her figure, but to the blade sheathed at her side.

Now it rested entirely up to _Michael_ and this tense moment would change them all forever. The Left Hand understood. His compassion for his brother outweighed his sense of duty to Heaven and his grip loosened just enough for Lucifer to tap into whatever energy remained, pulling his arm free and throwing his head back into Rael’s nose before thrusting a heel deep into Raphael’s sternum. The Traveller played along and tumbled backwards along the ground.

Then he was upon Ozryel, flinging her wildly away as he drew the blade from her belt. “I will be a slave to Heaven … _no longer_.” The sword’s edge was already to his throat and he grinned madly as he cut into his shell. His flesh sizzling as it severed his Hayyoth head entirely and his body crumpled as his soul fled to the underworld.

“NO!” The screams were universal. Even Raphael himself, having instigated it, found himself bellowing at the site as he dropped to his knees and watched Michael cradle the empty body in his arms.

 

* * *

 

This would be the last time he would enter the Chamber of God until the Fall of Ozryel. 

> _The Gate to Hell can be opened. Pursuit of the Morning Star should be–_

“It will remain shut. Lucifer will remain within. His body is contained.  I have ensured I will be alerted should it ever be touched and Lilith is already in the wind.” Raphael countered. “The release of its imprisoned souls can _not_ be permitted.” 

> _You speak as if you are the one in charge, my son. I am–_

“I know _everything, Father_.” He spoke to the Wheel with unflinching conviction. “I know _all_ your secrets.” He was no longer a subordinate. “I know what you have kept from _us_.” The Wheel stopped its rotations. “I know _why_ you made this world. I know _everything_.” Travelling the universe had revealed _many_ things to the Traveller. 

> _Then you also know why everything that I have done is necessary. Then you also know what’s coming for us next and why_ **_IT_** _cannot be permitted to exist._

“ _She_.” Raphael corrected his father. “ ** _Sandalphon_** will stay because she is the only thing that _nullifies_ Lilith’s abilities.” Saving Lilith had never been solely about his brother’s heart. It had also been about his own. This gave the Angel Prophet lasting value. “And not only that, **_she_** will be allowed to _flourish_.” 

> _Defying me on this issue is ill-advised. I am not as weak as you assume._

“Nor am I, _Father_. Let us be entirely honest with each other. You are dispersed and if you force my hand on this, you will be impressed by my … _defiance_.” He clenched his fists, letting the anger wash over, through, and then away from him. He had no purpose for it. He was _beyond_ it. “We both know you are unable to stop me in your current form. I’ve _grown_ up. Is that not what you wanted?” Grinning, he _knew_ he was right and his Father gave no protest. “And not _only_ will she flourish, but she will be permitted to experience life, on Earth, as the true prophet she is. _She will live_. I have promised her this.”

 

* * *

 

Before she opened her eyes for the first time in that all too familiar grass field, all she knew was that she was a boy. Her name … her name was … Sandal … no … it was _Elijah_ and … tomorrow was her fifth birthday.

But this wasn’t entirely the truth. Or at least it wasn’t the _full_ truth. Sandalphon pulled herself to her feet as the memories of Heaven and God and … _The Traveller_ … _Her Traveller_ … bombarded her. In waves, her true age returned and she doubled over, into the grass, and heaved, though nothing was expelled from her empty stomach. She didn’t really have a stomach here, did she?

She squinted in all directions and saw there was a light in the distance. Cutting through the twilight darkness, it flickered and danced. It was _fire_. As she moved towards it, she trembled with confusion as its light illuminated the surroundings and she saw the outline of a figure, sitting before it, its back towards her.

“Hello?” She called out to the figure, but it gave no movement. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“It is _our_ home.” The voice wasn’t familiar, but it was feminine and pleasant. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“ _MY_ home? I’ve never been here before.” As she rounded the fire, she recognized the face immediately. Her body flushed with bumps. “You.”

“You were not _human_ before. You were not able to _dream_ yet, but you have _always_ been in this place. Since the first moment you were born, you have been _rooted_ here. It is the _fifth_ realm. _The place_ apart of the others. Isolated. Protected. And cherished by _our_ kind.” There was _sadness_ in this tone. Sandalphon had never _read_ nor _heard_ such vulnerability from The Corruptor before and this caused her great pause. “This is where _we_ can be … safe from _the Eternals_.”

“But …” She could not feel Raphael. She could not feel the Nexus. In fact, she couldn’t feel _anything_. Not even the power and presence of _God_. “Who made it?”

“ _We_ made it.” Lilith held a long stick in her hand and she poked it into the fire.

“We?” Sandalphon looked around, but there were only the two of them. “I did not–”

“Not _you_ , fool. My _other_ and I …” There was continued sadness in her voice and she expressed it vividly in her expression as she met the Angel Prophet’s eyes. “ _Adam_ and I made this place together. Before things changed. Before they changed him. Broke him. Before his … _blinding_.”

“But … Why?” Sandalphon looked around, squinting into the field surrounding them. There was an ocean crashing in the distance, but the sky was too dark to allow her to see far enough beyond the tall, swaying grass to see the water. “Why would you _make_ it?”

“We made it to help us see _farther_. We made it so we could help each other _dream_. This is the Confluence.”

“Sure … yeah. Forgive me if I don’t trust a single word that slithers from your treacherous mouth.”

“Watch your own tongue, prophet.” Lilith glared at her, her lips curling up to expose her enlarged canines. “You are _still_ my lesser, in many … _many_ … ways.”

“How so?” Sandalphon laughed. “I think you’re just sore I beat you.”

“You think _you_ beat _me_?” Lilith chuckled. “I allowed you to win. I saw you coming from a mile away.”

“Yeah, right.” Sandalphon attempted to sound confident, but her and Raphael had spoken of this many times. They _knew_ there was simply no way Lilith hadn’t seen them coming.

“And I allowed it because I have done something _unforgivable_. I have caused an _imbalance_.” Lilith waved at a log across the fire from her. “Please sit, sister. We have much to discuss.”

“Imbalance?” Sandalphon remained standing.

“The four were always meant to _balance_ each other. To keep one another honest. To keep one _another_ true. A system of Checks and _Balances_ , if you will. I did not see _what_ they actually were to the Creator until it was already _too_ late.”

“Too late … for what?”

“Too late for _me_ to change the path I had set in motion. For me …” She poked at the fire with a stick and distant waves crashed in all directions around them. Were they on an island? “There has always been a finite set of futures. Each choice. Each decision. Everything that I have done. I knew where it might lead me … to an extent, but even _my vision_ has its limits.”

“What do you _want_ from me, Lilith? Why have _you_ brought me here?”

“I have not brought you here, _Wheel within the Wheel_. You finding your path here was inevitable.”

“Inevitable? Because you _saw_ it?”

“No.” She flicked at her fanged teeth with her slightly split tongue. “Inevitable because _this world_ is as much _yours_ as _mine_. As much …” She sighed deeply and Sandalphon could not discern whether it was animosity or sadness. “As much _my husband’s_ before _his Blinding_. And _as much_ for the Children of Prophecy to come.”

“ _Children_ of Prophecy?” Sandalphon laughed. “To which prophecy are you referring?”

“To the prophecy that you will _foretell_ to Heaven next.” Lilith grinned. “The ones who will _undo_ my mistake … _our mistake_.”

“ _Our_ mistake? I’ve done nothing wrong. And forgive me if I have issues _trusting_ anything that might leak from your mouth.”

“I am _not_ the enemy.” Lilith’s tone was genuine, but she _was_ The Corruptor, afterall. She waved at the log across from her, brushing her palms against the tips of the dancing fire. “Please sit. We _must_ trust each other next …”

Sandalphon looked at the log and bumps flooded over her body again. Should she resist? Should she flee? Was it even possible? Perhaps, but regardless of Lilith’s history, she had answers. Answers to those _burning_ dreams that the angel prophet had been _plagued_ with. Dreams of the–

“You’ve been dreaming of the _End_.” Lilith could _read_ her eyes. “I have seen it as well. Everytime I shut my eyes, it plagues me.”

“But if we have _both_ seen the end, then there’s really nothing we can do to change it.”

“It is time to get creative.”

“Creative?” Sandalphon scoffed at the word. “Have you lost your mind?”

“As I have said _before_ , to me, the possibilities were always _finite_. Before _you_ were made. Just as Adam did, you make everything …” Lilith waved her hand in the air in front of her face, wiggling her fingers around in front of her lovely dark eyes.

“Cloudy.” Sandalphon understood. “The future becomes _hazy_. I cannot see the possibilities anymore if you are involved.”

“No. You misunderstand it. It is not that we cannot see it.” Lilith grinned. “It is that it becomes _flushed_ with possibilities. There are _infinitely more_ paths than before. And each one that I choose changes the paths that _you_ choose. I can control only _my_ future choice, but because of your sight, that will shift _all choices_.”

“No.” The angel prophet shook her head. “There’s only _one_ possible future. There’s only _one_ path–”

“There is ONE outcome. Only one _will_ happen. But there are _many_ possibilities. Take _this_ for example.” Lilith threw her stick into the center of the fire as she grunted with annoyance. Bending forward, she retrieved a tiny stone from the sand and cupped it between both of her hands, shaking the rock out of Sandalphon’s view. She smiled. “Which hand will it be in, prophet? Make your choice, but … “ Lilith’s smile deepened. “ _Only_ tell me after I have revealed it to you.”

Sandalphon laughed. “Then I can just _lie_.”

“That’s not the _point_ of this.” Lilith purred. “Have you decided? Which hand, _seer_?”

Sandalphon tilted her head left and then right, reaching out into the future of the _seconds_ later and she could see a possibility. The right hand. But as she opened her mouth to voice that she had made her choice, she blinked as the option shifted to the left and then back and forth. She squinted and her brows pinched together. “I … I … _I don’t know_.”

“Because everything we choose to do, _the two of us_ , changes the paths that the other will decide. The farther we look, the more options unfold and the harder it is to see. I can tell you would have seen that I would put it in the left and so I changed to the right. And you change. And I change. And so on, and so forth.”

“It’s a …” Sandalphon nearly chuckled. “Feedback loop.”

“Yes.” Lilith threw the rock to the ground. “If we want to change the fate of our future, choose the best _possibility_ , if we want to fix what we _both_ have broken. We _must_ work together. Otherwise, we are _both_ blind as bats.”

“We?” Sandalphon shook her head. “What can the _two_ of us do to stop this? It’s all already in motion …” She had seen the future that Lilith spoke of. She had seen the death of Lilith and the final battle of The Morning Star and the Traveller. She saw the outcome that no lesser being would survive. _Could survive_. Herself included.

“Not just the two of us.” Lilith blinked. “We will need … _considerable_ help. And I will require your _referral_ for that.” The look on her face was enough to convey her intention to Sandalphon and the angel prophet laughed again, merely at the _thought_ of it.

“You’re talking about _God_ , aren’t you.” Lilith stared in silence and Sandalphon rolled her head. “Oh good lord, you really think he’s going to help you!? After _everything_ you’ve done?”

“The Morning Star is a ticking time bomb.”

“Yeah, one _you_ armed.”

“You armed _your own bomb_. Nethertheless, it is one _we both_ must diffuse. He _will_ pop eventually, but I have _an idea_.”

“And _you_ think The Creator will listen to me?” Sandalphon laughed out loud again. She took a deep breath and shook her head as she exhaled. “I think you misunderstand our _relationship_. He doesn’t _trust_ me anymore than he _trusts_ you. In fact, I’m quite sure he _despises_ my very existence.”

“He may be cold. He may be callous. He may be _apathetic …_ ” Lilith bit into her thick bottom lip as vicious memories played in her mind. “But for his sons. _For Lucifer …_ ” She stared into the fire. Its amber reflection danced in her black eyes. “ ** _For Raphael_** , I promise you, he _will_ listen.”

 

* * *

 

Sandalphon spun her tea cup and stared into the ivy-design of the wrought iron table top, tracing her free hand over the metal leaves. “She saw it too late.”

"Saw _what_ too late?”

“Just as when _Hayyoth_ age, they become more powerful. As _my kind_ ages, as a prophet ages, their sight into the future grows longer and longer, stretching farther and farther ahead.”

“Alright.” Uriel followed as best he could. “What did she see?”

“Lilith saw, in _their_ time together, during _their_ aging, she started to see the _end_. Her own end and by proxy, the end _he_ would bring to all. But by that time, he was already too strong to stop. By that time, she could _not_ undo what she had already set into motion.”

“I don’t buy that. Lilith _could_ have stopped him.”

“She would _never_ have condemned him to that fate. Even if she could have frozen him, how is that _any_ different than true _death_ , brother? He would no longer exist or experience life anymore. But it doesn’t matter, that option was off the table long ago.”

“She stopped Ozryel, Michael, and Rael. She stopped _me_. The Entire Armies of Heaven and Earth and–”

“You’re still _not_ following me, Uriel.” She sighed. “ _He_ surpassed even _her_ ability to confine, to contain. In _all_ her glory and _all_ her power, _he_ is still a _Shaper of Worlds_. He is still _Hayyoth_. And there is _nothing_ as powerful as that. She may be the unstoppable force, but _he_ is the immovable object.”

“You’re wrong. You’ve forgotten about _God_.” Uriel countered. “ _God_ is more powerful than even the _Hayyoth_.”

“My brother! My brother … ” She interrupted him and laughed. It was laced with pity and excitement. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached for his hand, gripping it and his spine tensed. The look upon her face worried him. “Do you _not_ understand what the first _five truly_ are? Do you _still_ not get what this entire **_experiment_** has been to our _Creator_?”

“They are …” He was going to explain what he understood them to be, but her face urged him to listen instead of _fight_. Her face urged him to _understand_ what she had witnessed in the future. “The Living Creatures … The Tetramorph to the Chariot of–”

“The only difference between _Father_ and his _five sons_ …” Sandalphon shuddered. “Is _time_.”

Uriel blinked. “What do you–”

“The _only_ difference … _is age_.”

“You’re saying they’re … _Gods_?”

“Their _babies_ , but just the same. Haven’t they alway been though? History remembers them as such. Zeus, Horus, Quetzalcoatl, Anu …” Her words trailed off and she watched his face.

Uriel sat in silence for a moment. “But what does _this_ even mean? Why tell me all of this?”

“Because _you_ , above all, need to _know_ the truth. Because _you_ , Uriel, who stood at the Gate of Eden with your fiery sword, you who watches over Thunder and Terror. You are Regent of the Sun. Flame of God. Angel of the Face. Angel of Sanctification. **_Angel of Glory_**. Archangel of Salvation. _Prince of Presence._ ” Uriel had missed the old names. “Raphael will seek to _change everything_ , and you, the very _highest_ of the low-born, must stand by his side. Their faith in the _Hayyoth_ will falter, and they _will all_ look to _you_ for ultimate guidance. Your continued loyalty is _key_.”

“I think you overestimate my influence.” Uriel cracked a weak smile. “Phael is strong enough not to need _my help_ in doing _anything_ he wants.”

“Do you think he wishes to _take_ power by force? If I could have talked him into that, this would have been over millennia ago. God is _flawed_. When it is realized he is no different than _you_ or I.” She explained further. “This system, all of its beliefs and its rules and its laws are built on the assumption that he is infallible. When that crumbles … _and it will crumble_ … his sons will be doubted as a result. _Your influence is the key to peace_.”

Uriel sighed. “Wait …” He squinted, pulling his head back from her sisterly grip. “You mentioned _Lilith_. You … _and_ Lilith. You’ve been working for her this _entire_ time?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Not so much _for_ , brother, as _with_.” She crossed her arms over her slender chest and she looked down, her face falling with moderate shame.

“She’s the reason for _all of this_.” He spat at her. “She is The Corruptor. The start of all evi–”

“She merely sought to exist. Something I myself demanded as well. We’re _all_ just shades of gray.” Meeting his eyes, her gray skin lightened and then darkened. “There _is_ no good. There _is_ no evil. There is _just_ existence. And the continuation of _that_ is more important than _morality_ or _ethics_ right now.”

“You sound just _like_ **_him_**.” He leaned back and looked her up and down.

“Lucifer?”

“ _God_.”

 

* * *

 

**[Silver Sea - Samuel Bohn, Christopher Worsey](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6iOTJtZEDpMQfPe6Ad5tRl%3Fsi%3DFyuesQ0iQZiCr-m-lmtjWA&t=ODMzYjgzOGJkM2E3NTViNTNmYzRhZTU3OTllMTIxYTUxODU0MzIyOCxlWlkzUTVDVw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175620785588%2Finterlude-12-the-wheel-within-the-wheel) **

**_Several millennia ago …_ **

**_In a familiar meadow …_ **

**_Deep in the wilderness lands of Heaven …_ **

“You are better than them. You are better than _him_. And he knows it. That is where his pride flows.” Sandalphon slipped her fingers through Raphael’s and they laid in the grass of the heavenly meadow, the wind blowing through them as they lazied about.

“I don’t accept that. I can’t. I’m not better than–”

“That’s exactly why you are.” She flickered. “Humility in something _so fundamentally_ powerful, it is a rare thing.”

“You’re wrong. Just as _Father_ is. I am _flawed_.”

“Absolutely. In fact, that is the point. It _is_ those very flaws that make you _different_ and _very dangerous_.”

“How do you know all of this?”

She wouldn’t answer with words, only another kiss. He wouldn’t pry for information and when he left her side this day, he didn’t realized it would be the last time he would see her for over several thousand years. This was their last conversation before she slipped quietly back into the Pool of Rebirth and disappeared fully from Heaven’s sight. 


	120. 13.1 - Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been out last week, if it hadn’t been for Comic Con. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy the beginning of the end! Cheers!

  **[Strike a Match - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F33MLUcVuAAVb36H7Ml32Bb&t=ZTdjOGY2ZWExNmI1YzdhMTc5YTkyZjViYmNkYjdhNWRjMGMxNjIzZixtWjBaUVRlQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F176309926938%2Fchapter-131-redemption&m=1) **

> _Strike a match_
> 
> _I’m gonna strike a match_
> 
> _Watch me strike a match_
> 
> _And burn it down_
> 
> _Yeah, I’m gonna burn it down_
> 
> _This is not so typical, the way it ends_
> 
> _When you start a fire, you can’t just pretend_
> 
> _That you don’t love the feeling in your blood it brings_
> 
> He couldn’t hold onto her. He tried. _Oh gods._ He tried.

It had concerned him that he could not see the door as she did, but it was worth the try and he _knew_ she would not go without him. He tried to hold on for as long as possible, but when the two realms ripped her way and she was gone, time moved fluidly again as he hit the pavement below with an excruciatingly painful thud.

Quinlan pulled himself up slowly. First to his knees as he arched his back, stretching it far enough to crack, and then to his feet as he brushed off his coat. He wasn’t sure how _his soul_ could hurt this badly from the impact, but clearly, Hell was much less _numb_ than Heaven had been. Likely this was by design. It would be difficult to _punish_ souls if they could not feel, wouldn’t it?

He continued to dust himself off and then popped his neck from one side to the other. He shook himself, breathing out dramatically. But this small distraction was shorted-lived and his attention was immediately honed to the eerie silence of the now-dead city and as he looked around him, he realized why everything had grown so still. Every person, _every soul_ , wherever they had been, whatever they had been doing, was now fallen or slouched over.

Persephone’s power over the damned mortal souls was impressive and she had, for all intents and purposes, simply shutdown her “doll house”, as she had called it. Quinlan weaved his way through the quiet street, squeezing himself between the motionless cars where he could, and jumping over them where collisions had occurred. He was soon on the sidewalk, already deep in the process of going through his own memories, in an effort to remember where exactly he had breached into this _cage_. Perhaps that opening still … a familiar and _angry_ shrill cry echoed in the distance.

 _Damnation_. That was likely the sound of her finding her head. That was _fast_ , though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Quinlan’s heart began to race as he considered his immediate options, or lack thereof.

It was already clear that he could _not_ overcome her on his own. He needed help to defeat her before and he would need help once again. Quinlan closed his eyes, feeling the similarities between this place and Heaven, feeling the strings that connected it all and finding his way into their networks. He _knew_ where he wanted to go and he began to run East down the sidewalk. The distant monster screamed again, but this time much closer as some of Raphael’s last words to him rattled in his mind, pushing aside his despair and replacing it with _hope_ :  

> _Find Raum, the Merciful. He will be your best ally._

“Very well.” He grinned marvelously. “Let us hope he will be.”

 

* * *

 

She held on for as long as she could. In fact, she felt the door giving in to her determination. It began to crumble, chunks of its frame falling away as she pulled him an inch with her and then whiplash hit her hard and she lost her grip. The universe ripped them apart and now there was nothing but _darkness_ and _solitude_.

“Quintus!?” Her desperation was raw. Her voice trembled with agonizing exposure. She screamed with such volume that it burned her throat. “Quintus!?” Reaching out for him, _for anything_ , she was surprised to see her hands clearly, as if there _was_ light, and yet darkness stretched out in all directions from her. “Quintus …”

She knew this place. She had been here before, but she couldn’t remember when.

Voices danced all around. She recognized them both. One was EL’s. The other was … _Raphael_. She remember his gentle tone from EL’s memories, though he wasn’t being so _gentle_ at this point in time. She spun, trying to pinpoint where it might be originating, but it barrelled down at her from all angles and she fought the desire to just crumple to the ground. The desire to _cry_ was overwhelming and it stifled her thoughts.

No. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t collapse. She would be strong. She _had_ to find her way out. She _had_ to undo what she had started. She _had_ to get back to Hell.

And all at once, her desperation and fear gave way to anger and she remembered why she was here. Why she had come back.

 _Her uncle was a snake_.

“Lucifer!?! I’m back, _you lying fucker_.” She spun, clenching her fists into tight and powerful balls as she bellowed at the top of her lungs into the black space above her, but was met with nothing but silence.

Dawn doubted suddenly, that faded quickly and she curled up her upper lip and screamed out again. “LUCIFER!”

Everything began to rumble and much to her surprise, he answered.

“It’s O.K., Aurora. It really is.” EL’s voice wasn’t filled with anger or animosity or even annoyance. She couldn’t tell if he was manipulating her _yet again_ or if he actually _wasn’t_ angry and she teared up even further. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.” _That asshole was still in her mind._ “But, I can’t deal with you right now. It’s time to go home. Don’t worry, I’ll be _there_ soon.”

She could see him now and he closed the large distance and he reassured her. She felt her face scrunch together with the pain of knowing _Quintus_ was still _there_.

“It’s O.K.” EL laughed. “It’s O.K. I’ll even _let_ you _keep him_.” At that moment, she was reminded of _the Master_ and the similar promise that had been made to her by that _monster_ and she curled her face up into an angry sneer.

“Would it really be so bad?” He purred to her from the short distance. “I’ll let you live out _whatever_ life you want … _together_.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be real.”

“Of course it would. He’ll be _real_. You’ll be _real_.” That sinister and manipulative chuckle rushed bumps across her arms. “And besides, _who_ defines _real_ anyways? You’ll exist … both of you … _together_. Everyone gets what they want. Trust me, it’s a better deal than _Heaven_ would offer.”

“No.” Her retort was final and he halted his approach. “No more _deals_ , Lucifer.”

“Fine then.” His grin disappeared. “Remember I didn’t want this.” His face grew solemn and bitter. “Remember that _this_ was _your_ choice.” _Oh god._ “I hope you enjoy your _solitude, Aurora_.” 

The ground all around her fell away and she was left on nothing more than a _rock_. She fell to her knees, clinging to it as the limitless distance beneath it crippled her from moving as that _damn_ nightmare, the one that had plagued her her entire life, became her reality.

 

* * *

 

Ron poked at the keys of his computer and stared at the spinning wheel. Spinning? Actually no, it had stopped spinning minutes before and he squinted at it hitting the spacebar with growing annoyance.

“What the bloody hell …” His wild clicking became more animated as he wiggled the mouse around, but nothing moved. His patience waned and he stared at the phone on his desk. John was supposed to call him to let him know the car was waiting downstairs. _Jesus Christ_. How long had it been? At least 20 minutes now. Glancing at the Tag Heuer on his wrist, his brows pinched together as it indicated _no time_ had passed at all.

“ _Bloody hell …_ ” He shook the expensive watch several times and then held it up to his ear. _Silence_. He might have cursed at his watch again, but the computer caught his attention again and then his annoyance bubbled over into a physical show of absolute frustration as he swatted the side of the monitor. “SEND! Damn you!” He commanded. This email _had_ to go out before he could leave for the airport. She was waiting for him. This was a terrible way to start things off.

Ron tilted his head to the right as he stared at the screen, noticing something particularly strange. There was no light illuminating from the monitor. It was absolutely dull and as he leaned forward to see it from multiple angles, a strange feeling crept along his spine. It was as if the screen had been _painted_ onto the monitor. “What the _bloody hell_ …” He blinked several times and then pushed the power button. Again, nothing happened. He considered pulling the power cord next, but instead pushed the thought from his mind. He had wasted too much time on this already.

Picking up the phone’s receiver, he pushed the button to ring his secretary, but he was met with utter silence as he held the device up to his ear. “What _the hell_ is going on …” As the words slipped out of his mouth, something itched at the very back of his mind and the world spun around him.  

> _None of this is real_.

_Shit_. No. _No_. Not again. The voice and the dizzy spell were happening again and he reached into his jacket pocket for the pills Dr. Kore had prescribed him to ease this new and growing “ _anxiety_ ” as she had called it and yet, as he stared down into the bottle, he swore something _moved_ in it. His reaction was immediate and violent. Throwing it down, he jumped from his chair and backed away, the pills spilling out and scattering across his office floor.

There was a moment of odd clarity and he stared down at the white objects, muttering to himself lowly. “I need to get the fuck out of here.” He swung his suit jacket on and buttoned it as he made his way out of the office and towards his secretary’s area.

“Jesse! Is the internet down?” He called out to her. “JESSE! Is the car ready yet? I don’t think the phones are working … ” No answer.

When Ron spied her foot sticking out from behind her desk, he darted to face-down body. As he pulled her limp body over and into his lap, her eyes were open and entirely vacant. She wasn’t breathing and he laid her flat, beginning to pump her chest without hesitation. Leaning forward, he stopped before his lips connected with the young woman’s as that strange voice rattled in his head … _again_.  

> _It’s useless. Don’t bother. She was never alive to begin with._

The voice wasn’t entirely wrong. Her body was already cold and color seemed to be fading from it as he stared into the _vapid shell_. Jesus. How long had she been like this? How long had he been in …

_His head swam._

Looking up and around finally, Ron stood and found everyone in the office on the floor. Everyone was … _dead_? His first fleeting thought was that it had been a biological attack but _he_ was still alive. “What the _fuck_ is–”  

> _They aren’t dead. They were never alive to begin with. Snap out of it._

“Snap out of what exactly?” He had never _responded_ to the voice before, but any conversation that might have ensued was interrupted by a crashing sound. It broke the eerie silence and he tracked its direction into the main entrance. Standing in his suite’s entrance, he stared down the _long_ hallway, in the direction of the elevator, as the knocking grew louder and _louder_. Drawing closer and _closer_. Ron blinked several times, tilting his head to the side as his heart began to race. 

> _Something is_ **_wrong_**. _We need to get to the Child of Prophecy. She is our charge. Never forget that._

But, was it the elevator? No. The sound wasn’t mechanical. It sounded like something was _knocking_ against the walls. It sounded like _someone_ was – the stairwell door, located to the side of the elevator, flung open violently, the hinges buckled, and it flew into the wall.

 _Alex_ came _barreling_ out.

“Alex, what is … ?” Ron barely began before he realized _why_ Alex was running. The creature was no less than twenty feet behind his cousin-in-law. It gripped the sides of the door frame with two foot long talons and launched itself forward into the belly of the hallway as it continued its mad pursuit.

Ron’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell agape. Creature? Good lord. It was a fucking … _dragon_. A FUCKING DRAGON. “That’s a _fucking dragon_ …” He definitely would have stood there in motionless awe had Alex not screamed at full volume to him.

“Do not just stand there!” The man had already covered half the distance from the elevator to Ron and he was moving faster than anything Ron thought he had ever seen. “RUN YOU FOOL!”

 

* * *

 

**[Victory - Two Steps from Hell, Thomas Bergersen](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2F9xBxKbx2M0pbgtSu8fLf&t=ZjEwNzc0ZjZmODcwYWNlMDdjMTg5MGQ5ZTI3Y2YxYjcwYTQ0MTAwNyxtWjBaUVRlQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F176309926938%2Fchapter-131-redemption&m=1) **

She was _alone_ on that damned rock again. She had lost. Before the fight had even begun, she had _lost_. Her despair was overwhelming and even as the darkness slowly broke around her, giving way to the sun as it began its rise behind her, she doubted her own eyes. Even as she saw her own shadow, long and slender on the ground ahead, quickly getting shorter and shorter as the light source rose farther and higher into the sky, she doubted. It was then that she saw the other shadow as it strolled up.

Silently and gracefully, it moved slowly and encompassed her tiny shadow fully before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She stared at the shape on the ground, understanding immediately what it was. Long, slender, and serpentine. It was too big to be _her serpent_ and when it spoke, its tone was calm and its voice was worn but warm.

“ _You’re not alone, Dawn. I’ll never leave you alone._ ” _He_ spoke into her, soothing over her, encompassing her, consoling her. She stood and turned, her tears flowing freely and she looked up at this _snake_ , looked deep into his warm face as he bent down to her. His skin was as wonderfully spotted as her own. “ _I promised …_ **_we_** _promised._ ”

 _Michael_.

 

* * *

 

**[Meet Me at the Top - UNSECRET, Butterfly Boucher](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F73vdU7VouU5d06g7tnjAtl%3Fsi%3D0zVeqqnqT5SXVFHs8ItQ4w&t=ODJlOGFiOTgzOTRmMGE3MjljMjY4OWY3ZDM5MWUxYmE3MjljZTY3MixtWjBaUVRlQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F176309926938%2Fchapter-131-redemption&m=1) **

> _I feel the heat_
> 
> _I feel the pain_
> 
> _I feel the sweat_
> 
> _Falling like rain_
> 
> _Giving it all_
> 
> _In the battle ahead_
> 
> _I feel the power_
> 
> _When they’re calling my name_

Raphael _and_ Lucifer slightly tensed at the exact same moment. Pausing their fight, their eyes locked onto the others and they _both_ felt the new presence the moment _she_ appeared. Lucifer’s nostrils flared slightly as his brows pinched together and Raphael bit back the desire to grin madly, instead opting to swallow hard.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel was the first to ask. He took a step towards his youngest brother, but Raphael thrust a palm out, silently commanding his brother not to attack.

“You underestimated him.” He had done it. He had succeeded. Quintus had actually done it. He had afforded them … _hope_. “Don’t feel too foolish, brother. Underestimating the _dhampir_ is something that _everyone_ here had to learn the hard way.”

“Quintus.” Ozryel muttered, struggling to keep her minions on task. The strigoi army was barely holding back the creatures of darkness, but Lucifer just rebuilt his minions the moment they fell. Ozryel lacked that ability and her numbers would eventually wane to the point beyond recovery. Lucifer would win by attrition alone.

“It doesn’t matter.” A sinister yet simple smile crept upon the Morning Star’s face. “What’re you gonna do, Brother?” He tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the right as the wind blew across the humid scene, clearing the remainder of the lingering fog between the Hayyoth. “Go ahead … _reach for her_. I won’t let her hear you, but I dare you to try. I dare you to let me _back_ into your Nexus. That worked out _so very well_ for you before, didn’t it?”

“What the hell is going on?” Ozryel demanded. Her normally joyous demeanour was pure frustration now. “What about _Quintus_?!”

Raphael paused. He could hear the subdued voice bellowing within the shell and he knew Lucifer was right. Reaching out for her would be a dangerous thing indeed. She was connected to Lucifer directly, just as Ozryel was the moment she fell, the moment Gabriel was forced to rend her asunder to halt her corruption of the Nexus. The Traveller had lost a brother a day, unable to control the Morning Star within his mind. He had _failed_. That failure had plagued him ever since.

“You’re right. Perhaps I didn’t fare well _last time_.” Raphael agreed with that statement of fact. Clenching the staff so tightly that his knuckles began to whiten from the pressure, he fought his apprehension, drawing upon all of the courage he had left. The only thing that pushed him to this final decision was that _tiny_ and _sparking_ hint of _concern_ in Lucifer’s eyes. It was clear the Morning Star _feared_ her. “I wasn’t expecting you that day. But I have faith, because _this time … I won’t be alone_.”

“Arrogance, _you little shit_ , will **_always_** been your downfall.” Michael sneered from the side. “You aren’t the _only_ one connected to her.” 

The distraction of the Morning Star was orchestrated perfectly and Lucifer’s face grew wide with rage as he turned to Michael and the four descended upon him before he could attack the Left Hand.

Raphael reached _through_ his golden brother, bypassing Lucifer entirely and splitting his attention between the fight on Earth and what would next ensue within the Nexus itself. Everything faded into darkness around his eyes before a rich and warm _emerald_ energy sparked _all_ around him.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan’s gamble paid off. All the human souls were down, but he had suspicions that Raum would not be. When he had fought this _man_ in the dojo, Raum had proven to be inhumanly formidable but now, as he barrelled down the sterile office hallway towards the dumb-founded, suit-clad _Marid_ , he began to doubt that assumption.

“RUN YOU FOOL!”

Yet Raum was _not_ running. He was _just_ staring and Persephone was too close now. He felt the edge of her claw flick the side of his boot and Quinlan lost his balance, crashing down to the floor on his left shoulder. His momentum kept him sliding straight ahead. He skidded entirely passed Raum before violently coming to a rest against the wall.

“You think this little _Djinn_ can help you?!” She bellowed a chuckle, slowing her pace as she approached Raum. Her right hand was up and her silver claws flicked out as she swiped at the motionless _Marid_. Quinlan assumed he was done for. This attempt at finding aid had been futile. He might have even closed his eyes, so as to not see the rending of his _once_ cousin-in-law’s soul to pieces, but the _Djinn_ moved suddenly and gracefully, jumping back with incredible speed and dodging Persephone’s attack.

He still didn’t speak, nor close his mouth, but as she slashed with her other front arm, he dodged again. Under and back, back and under and then she charged again and he sidestepped. The Marid’s wide and confused eyes clearly indicated that he was still in a mental stupor, yet his training was kicking in.

 _He was reacting and he was damn fast_. Possibly even faster than Quinlan himself, and at the very least, as fast as Persephone was capable.

 _Good_.

“I’m sorry, _beast_.” Quinlan stood and drew his blade, flanking her from the side and fully drawing her attention again. His thrust was parried. “What were you saying again?”

Perhaps this wasn’t the best strategy, as Raum just stood still again. Not retreating, but definitely not aiding him in the battle.

 _Damnation_.

“Raum!” Quinlan choked the name out in as she gripped him around his ribs and squeezed _mercilessly_ , cackling a hoarse laugh as she pulled the dhampir close to her wicked mouth.

Her breath was repugnant and hot on his skin as she took thick and disturbing draws of his skin’s scent in. Licking her lips, she tasted the aroma and whispered down to him. “Perhaps I should see how long it will take _you_ to find _your_ head? Hmmm? Quite rude and _very unpleasant_.”

 _Uh oh_. Her other claw found its way around his skull and she began _pull_. This was, by far, the most uncomfortable sensation he had felt in _Hell_ to date. Everything around him blurred. His vision and hearing began to fade as his spine and tendons gave way and he lost control of his arms first and then his legs next before he felt himself free falling to the ground. Quickly pulling himself back together, he gasped. As his vision returned, he spied his fallen sword hilted into her right eye socket.

Raum looked even _more_ shocked than before. Even though he had purposefully pushed the sword into her head, his mouth still hadn’t closed and he watched with wide-eyed wonder as the beast flailed around before him. She steadied herself, gripping the handle and slowly pulled the metal out.

“Really?! To me?!” She spat towards the Marid, shaking her body and tossing the blade to the side. And then she approached Raum slowly on all fours, her steps exaggerated and wide, putting considerable attention on her broad lizard shoulders and knees. “That will _cost_ you in punishment, _little brother_.”

“I …” The _Djinn_ stammered, backing several steps before his back touched the gray wall behind him. “I’m … _sorry_. But … My cousin would be _really_ angry if I let you …” Raum lifted a shaky arm and pointed a finger towards Quinlan as he scrambled back to his feet. “… pull her husband’s head off …”

_Oh … shit._

She raised her arm, cocking it across the opposite side of her scaled body to swat the Djinn with the back of her hand. Quinlan knew _he_ could recover easily from such a blow, but …

He sprinted, putting himself between Raum and the strike. The moment of impact, he tensed, attempting to hold his ground as much as possible. His body absorbed all it could before he flew back against the _Marid_ and they both smashed into and through the wall behind them.

 _Good gods_.

The wall gave way, crumbling down and preventing her _immediate_ pursuit, though she was tearing through the debris and they had but _seconds_ before the next assault. Rolling off the man, Quinlan was happy to find him still conscious, though a bit worse for wear. Raum coughed and heaved from the ground and the dhampir offered him a hand to stand.

“You _need_ to wake up!” Quinlan demanded as Raum accepted his assistance to his feet.

“Wake up?!” Raum’s eyes grew wide. “You mean this is a dream?! Oh thank god–”

 _Damnation!_ Unfortunately they didn’t have time for the Marid to come to terms with things as slowly as Quinlan had and he gripped Raum’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “Raum, _the Merciful_. You _need_ to remember who you are.”

“Raum?” Raum tilted his head slightly and his eyes blinked several times at the mention of his _true_ name. The slight revelation was short lived, going nowhere and instead, he was immediately distracted by Quinlan’s half-dhampir features. “Hey, what’s wrong with _your face_?”

“Raum!” Quinlan shook him more violently. Persephone was nearly through the wall and Quinlan clenched his jaw. “I am sorry but we do _not_ have time for this to be … _pleasant_.”

“Wait …” Justified concern washed over Raum’s face as Quinlan placed a hand on either side of his temple the moment Persephone broke through. “To make _what_ pleasant?”

Quinlan had never done this before. When he spoke with the Ancients, it was always a _pull_ from them. When Michael and Raphael had _taken_ from his mind, that was a pull as well. But now, Quinlan _pushed_ , forcibly and absolutely _mercilessly_ into the _Djinn’s_ mind. He knew what this _rape_ felt like. He understood the intrusion and pain, but he didn’t care.

He ripped into the Djinn’s psyche and crushed it with an abundance of vicious memories. **_Heaven_**. **_Hell_**. He pushed his meeting of Barqan. He pushed Michael and Ozryel and _Abyad_. The last one, he felt a tense of the Marid’s muscles. And lastly, right before Persephone would violently separate them with piercing claws, he pushed _Raphael_. He pushed _who_ Raphel was. “ _Argaman_ said to find you–”

It was too late. He was flying through the air … again.

 _Damnation_.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so sorry … _for everything_.” Michael kept his distance from her, unable to look directly into her accusing eyes. Shame washed over him and he seemed smaller than he ever had before. His shoulders hunched and his head hung low. “We don’t have much time and I know it’s _no excuse, but …_ ” His apology flowed out through his absolute exhaustion and she watched him with wary eyes. “But everything _I_ did, _I did to keep you safe–_ ”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t get to apologize to me. And don’t you dare make _this_ all about _you_.”

“This has _never_ been about me.” Michael looked up. His eyes burned with loss and she _felt_ it. Grief wafted off of him in waves. It was stifling and excruciating. “This has _always_ been about my _girls_.” His voice choked in his throat. “And _you_ …” A genuine smile crept upon his mouth, even through the tears that charged down his cheeks. “ _Are so much more like me than you realize._ ”

“Like you?” She choked at the words. “And how do you figure that?!” His loss crippled her anger, but she pushed the words through. She held onto her anger with all she had left. “I’m _nothing_ like you. I would never do the things _you_ did.”

“Never? Really?” He challenged her. “You, _just like me_ , will do _anything_ … **_anything_** … to protect the ones you love the most.” He stepped forward and she fought the urge to back away. “Even put _existence itself_ at risk … _for the ones you love the most_.”

“I …” She stuttered. He towered above her, but she stared up with pure determination. Clenching her jaw, her nostrils flared as he gripped her forearms. “I _hate_ you.”

“I know.” He pulled her closer. “I _know_ you do. I can _feel_ it.”

“I don’t need you.” She whispered the lie into his chest as he crushed her tiny frame against his armour, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. “I can do this alone. I’ve _always_ been alone.”

“You’ve _always_ felt alone.” He sighed, waves of emotions wafting off of him like smoke. “But you never have been. You thought no one cared, but _we_ …” He tensed. _We_ … “ _But I cared_. And I have always been there. No matter how much you hate me, I always will be.”

He stepped back from their one-sided embrace and she pouted still. “I don’t _need_ your help.”

“I know you don’t.” Michael looked up and over her shoulder, smiling at someone behind her and her body was flushed with nervous bumps. “ _But we need yours._ ”

Dawn felt a hand on her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

**[Legends Are Made - Sam Tinnesz](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F3VBvV5wMMgEkrXqILx8JnB%3Fsi%3DAihaLn2yR4igPfzupNw7zw&t=Nzk4MGM4NGZiZjAyYzVmNTM3MTYxYTM1Y2UxMTUyMDIxYjUxYjUwMSxtWjBaUVRlQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F176309926938%2Fchapter-131-redemption&m=1) **

> _I’ve got that lightnin’ inside me_
> 
> _Son of a God_
> 
> _I’m like a titan that’s risin’_
> 
> _Oh just you watch_
> 
> _I’m steppin’ into fate_
> 
> _There is no time to waste_
> 
> _I’ve got that lightnin’ inside me_
> 
> _This is how legends are made_  

When Raum remembered who he was, there was no lingering effects of his false life.

One moment, he was Ron Rahim. Retired British SAS. Businessman. Sensei. Selfish and greedy.

And the next, he was once again Raum, The Merciful. Twin brother of Shaitan. Duke of the White King. Earl of the Silver Moon.

His human facade vanished immediately. His short, spiked hair was now shoulder length. His flawless face was now painted with powerful glyphs. And his business attire was replaced with a free flowing cotton shirt and pants.

This time when he struck the seraphim from behind, as she descended upon the scrambling dhampir again, he swung the bone sword entirely through her both sets of her wrists. As her hands fell to the ground, she hissed towards the woken _Djinn_. 

“Hello, _Sister_.” Raum placed himself between the beast and her intended prey. “It has been _too long, hasn’t it?_ ”

 

* * *

 

**[I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Fifty Shades Darker) - ZAYN, Taylor Swift](https://open.spotify.com/track/2y5aJvzXhHPA94U5GFAcXe?si=yzEsYlb_Qj-_SfKGJskDyA) **

> _I’m sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind_
> 
> _Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life_

Yes. There _was_ someone behind her. She could _feel_ his energy and she was in a shadow again and _always_ in someone else’s shadow. In the real world. Even in her dreams.

 _Small. Insignificant._ **_Alone_**.

As she turned to face the new figure, she shielded her eyes from his light, staring down at his feet. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but a giggle nearly escaped. Even in all the seriousness of the situation, his _shoes_ caused her pause. _Sandals_. They painfully reminded her of Ellie and she gulped. They were terribly ugly worn white sandals. At least, they had been white at some point in time, but now the dried and cracked leather was more brown than anything and wrapped around mocha colored feet.

“Don’t worry.” The voice was calm and soulful. “I’d _never_ make you look _up_ to me, _Child of Prophecy_.” Dawn felt another hand on her opposite shoulder and both hands gripped her, pulling her up to his level and out of his shadow entirely, so she should look directly into his face.

He was dressed in a simple off-white robe. His skin was rich and flawless while his hair was short and black. But his eyes, they were by far the most catching feature for they were a deep and unnatural violet. As he smiled to her, his face conveyed a warmth that had been missing from EL’s memories of him.

“I have been waiting to meet you for a _very long time_ , Dawn.” Raphael beamed. “You are as _lovely_ as Quintus remembered you.”

“I couldn’t hold onto him.” She stared down at the palms of her empty hands. Her shoulders heaved up and down. “I couldn’t hold onto him. I let him go. I failed him. I left him there … ” In hindsight, she would regret these being her very first words to her uncle, but it was at the forefront of her mind.

“Don’t make the same mistake Lucifer did.” His smile was overwhelming and even a bit intimidating. “The same mistake we _all_ have.”

“What … mistake?”

“Underestimating the _dhampir_.” Raphael’s tone was strangely reassuring. “I doubt even the pit will be able to hold him.” His grip on her shoulder tightened. “And now … we need to make sure there’s a _world_ left for him to come back to.”

An awkward moment of silence followed, before her confession poured forth. “I really messed up.”

“Hmm.” He considered her words carefully. “Do you _really_ think that though?”

“Look what I’ve done. What I’ve caused … I’ve –” She urged herself not to break. She needed to own up to her mistakes and this was a pretty damn _big mistake_.

“I know. _And it’s absolutely incredible!_ ” His excitement overflowed and her brows furrowed at his glee over the situation. “In a matter of just a few months, you’ve done what I have failed to do for _thousands_!”

“What you’ve _failed_ to do?” Dawn shook her head, filled with growing confusion and shock. “I’ve destroyed the world. I’ve–”

“Nothing is _destroyed_ yet. In fact …” He shrugged and grinned. “Nothing _will_ be destroyed. _I have faith_.” He smiled and this time, she was able to see his full set of white teeth and overdeveloped canines. “You’ve enacted change. And things will be different now … _yes_. But that has always been the point, hasn’t it?”

“The point of _what_?” She gawked at his optimism. He was _truly_ excited at all of this. This was insanity.

“Of _you_.” He spoke to her with genuine praise. “Shaking things up is the point of _what you are_.”

“What …” Did she dare ask? Didn’t she already know? Didn’t EL already tell her what she was? He was the King of Lies though … and she doubted suddenly. “What do you mean? _What am I?_ ”

“You … “ He looked her up and down carefully, nodding with assurance in himself and in his words. “ _You are the flood._ ” His warm grin continued and he leaned forward, touching his forehead gingerly against the top of her head and she felt a shock of electricity from it, as if he had rubbed his feet on carpet before the gesture, but the fire of doubt that kindled in her stomach was ever consuming and as she felt herself drowning within it, unable to grasp for breath, she felt his hands grip her elbows.

“But I can’t stop him.”

“By yourself? Of course not.” The matter-of-factness of his words made her feel foolish. “He is the _Light Bringer_. The strongest of _all_ the Hayyoth. _He always has been._ ” Raphael nodded to her, releasing his hold of her shoulders as he offered her his mocha right hand for her to take and when she did, he took a deep step to his left, causing her to spin in place. Michael now stood to her _left_. “But, that’s alright.”

“How is that _alright_?” She questioned profoundly and her _uncle_ smiled once more. “I’m supposed to be the _flood_.”

“Because I’m not alone. Because you’re not alone. Because none _of us_ are. None of us have _ever_ been.” He was so pleased at this moment. Clarity rich in his eyes. “And _now_ , you are exactly where you were always meant to be.”

And just as she felt Michael and Raphael around her, she felt the _other two_ arrive before seeing them. And it wasn’t the presence to her _right_ that made her begin to tremble, though that was the being that had _whipped_ and tortured her for weeks. No. It was the _giant_ presence now standing behind her that flushed her body with fear-riddled bumps. The very presence that spied her in Heaven. The archangel that caused her to flee to Hell to begin with.

Raphael gripped her shoulders, spinning her to face _The Messenger_. 

He towered over her and she stared up into his amber eyes. “Well?” He looked her up and down, never once cracking even a hint of a smile. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan gripped Raum’s shoulder, tugging him back away from the beast. He pointed at the hands crawling back to her body, reattaching as she began to laugh madly.

“What the _hell–_ ” Raum started.

“She cannot be vanquished. She is not _alive_ anymore.” Quinlan explained and pulled on him, trying to urge him to flee again. The dhampir reached for the blade in the Djinn’s hand and Raum pulled it away from him. Tension rose and both men stared at one another for an uncomfortable moment. “We _must_ run.”

“Run? And then what? Run for _eternity_?” Raum countered. “I assume you have a _plan_ then?”

Quinlan stuttered. “I have no plan.”

“It is _quite_ unlike you to _run_. Rather cowardly.” Raum slammed back and Quinlan found himself without a proper retort. How does _he_ know anything about him?!

“I have already cut her head off once!” Quinlan stopped himself as his annoyance began to bubble. “And _my plan_ is to stay in _one piece_ long enough to find the way out.” Quinlan’s eyes grew wide and she charged them both, splitting them.

She swatted Quinlan to the side and pounced on Raum, clawing at the blade as he flicked it up and towards her face. Already latched onto her back, Quinlan was pulling her elbows together, affording Raum the ability to slice and cut at will, but then she bucked like a bronco, kicking the Djinn away as the dhampir flew off from the force of the whiplash.

“You think the two of you can hold me at bay, _peasants_?!” Persephone cackled louder as they came back to their feet. “I think you should have kept your little _prophet_ around, yes? You two are _cockroaches_ for me! I can do this _forever_!”

Finally, something _clicked_ in his mind. Something he had very nearly forgotten about. Something that seemed trivial at the time, but now he was _certain_ could not have been mere coincidence. Another charge. Another lost round. She ripped through them both like butter.

Quinlan came to his feet again as Raum hit the wall next to him. An uncontrollable grin spread across his wide mouth and the Djinn took note immediately. “What the _hell_ are you smiling about?!”

Quinlan panted as she charged and the two men dove out of the way. “I’ve a plan!” Scrambling, he moved to one of the many broken windows.

“Plan?!” Raum called, jumping as Persephone swung her tail wide to sweep him.

“You can stay and fight her for eternity if you wish! Or you can follow me!” Quinlan turned as he gripped the window’s frame and prepared himself to launch out of it.

“For fuck’s sake, where are you going!?”

His grinned widened even further. “ ** _To find us a prophet._** ” And then the dhampir leapt from the twenty story window.


	121. 13.2 - Redemption

**[Home - Zayde Wolf](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6GuXHSJZUM8IOW4NaJ4zt2%3Fsi%3Dcg3kMRc0SEeRChFhkeTLPw&t=NWI1NTViNDcxZGJlNGZlMmYwMGIwY2U3YzhhYmIwMjNkNjhlOTNmZSxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) **

> _Home, never too far, never too close to come home_
> 
> _Never too lost, never too found to come home_
> 
> _Never too young, never too old to be known_
> 
> _No matter how far you go, you’re never alone_
> 
> _We can believe in_
> 
> _We can believe in dreams_
> 
> _Can you hear them? Can you hear them?_

The lanky figure to her _right_ she recognized _immediately_. This recognition stemmed from both EL’s memories as well as her own, though this _woman_ shared far more features with Quintus now than she did with _The Master_. Dawn wasn’t sure how she felt about her, given their _muddled_ past, but she knew now was not the time to hold any lingering grudges.

As she craned her head to the side and spied the being out of the corner of her eye, a goofy grin slowly creeping across the angel’s face in a poor attempt at half-apology, half-greeting.

 _Ozyrel_. _The Master. The Ancients. The Right Hand of God. Angel of Death_ **_her_** _self._

“Hello there …” She wiggled her fingers at Dawn with a hesitant wave, followed by a nervous little chuckle all while nervously clearing her throat. “… _heheh_ … _hello again … I mean … um …_.”

Dawn squinted and her nostrils began to curl up.  _That fucker …_

“He’s coming.” Raphael cut off his sister mid-babble. “Reunions _must_ wait.”

Dawn shuddered. She had never felt as tiny as she did in this moment as she looked around at her uncles and found that they towered above her. She locked onto the intense amber eyes of Gabriel again and she swallowed hard. “So … What now then?” Her time in _Hell_ came flooding back to her and she remembered how Quinlan had _used_ her gifts to defeat their serpentine jabberwocky. “I will be _your weapon_.”

It was a statement of fact, or at least she felt it was. It was obvious, wasn’t it? It was _why_ she was made, after all. Wasn’t it? To _be_ their weapon. To _be_ their storm. Right?

But she could not have been more wrong. She was _not_ their weapon, just as Sandalphon had never been. She was not something to be used and later discarded. In fact, she was _born_ to replace something that they had each _lost_ , and standing in the center of this powerful formation, she _knew_ what it was and what she represented within it. Dawn gulped again.

## “ ** _Not at all, my silly child …_** ”

Michael gripped her _left_ hand first. Energy sparked across her vision and as he stepped into her, his spirit faded to vapor and particles of _gold_ danced over her body. Just as he felt her _hate_ earlier, she was overcome with his _love_. There was a tiny instance of resistance before she realized how this _had_ to work. She _had_ to forgive him. In all of his glory and all of his flaws, in all of his victories and all of his stumbles, in all of his hate and all of his _love_. She had to _accept_ him. In fact, she had to accept them _all_. In every shade of gray they existed.

> _Her Left Hand. The grandfather. The Lion._
> 
> _She accepted him. Her residual hate dissolved._
> 
> _Dawn accepted_ ** _love_**. _In fact, she bathed in it._

## “ ** _You misunderstand …_** ”

Ozryel gripped her _right_ hand. Silver flooded across their skin and Ozryel stepped into her next.

> _Her Right Hand. The torturer. The Eagle.  
>  _
> 
> _She let go of her unrelenting anger towards this angel and her need for vengeance retreated.  
>  _
> 
> _Dawn gave_ **_forgiveness_**.

## “ ** _You are not our weapon …_** ” 

Gabriel laid a palm on either side of her shoulders and he nodded to her once before he stepped within and her vision danced with amber streaks.

> _Her Shield. The pursuer. The Ox._
> 
> _She released her fear of him. Her desire to run waned and then abated completely.  
>  _
> 
> _Dawn took_ **_courage_** _and this made her smile._

## “ ** _We are yours,_** **_[Daughter of Days](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAncient_of_Days&t=YjY1NTRkZTA0NjM2OWUxNWM4ZmNhYzVmN2NiYTk3YzI5NTlkZTE4ZCxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1)_**.” 

She could not see him, but she felt his touch as Raphael placed his hands onto her shoulders.

She struggled with this one the most and Raphael was infinitely patient as he squeezed her shoulders gently. “Now it’s time to _forgive yourself_.” His forehead pressed against the back of her head and the tears welled up furiously in her eyes.

“I don’t deserve that. They died …” All of those souls. All of that pain. Their existence had been snuffed out because of _her_ actions. She didn’t deserve to be _forgiven_. “Because of me … because of my actions.”

“Yes. You are ultimately at fault.” Her head swung low and the first tear broke free from her eye and travelled down her cheek. “And no one can understand _that pain_ as I do.” He did. He _really_ did and she _felt_ it. “The past cannot be changed, not even _by someone such as you_.” She had _seen_ the destruction he caused that day. The souls that _he_ had extinguished. “But you _have_ to let it go.” She clenched her fists. “Atone for it by proving now that their deaths had purpose. Atone for it by ensuring _he takes no more this day_.”

> _**Her Heart. The guardian. The man.**  
>  _
> 
> _She set free her self-loathing. Her yearning for punishment.  
>  _
> 
> _Dawn welcomed the possibility of_ **_redemption_**.

This was the divine chariot and she was at its very center. Their powers swirled all around her, and she realized she had always been wrong. Dawn assumed she had been born alone with a tormenting insatiable ache that drove an unrelenting loneliness.

Such a terrible fate to be a Hayyoth without an _other_. EL shared this pain, he explained that they were utterly _defective_. He said they were broken in such a fundamental way, they could never be fully complete. But now, as the reality of _her_ current situation dawned on her, a slow and steady smile crept over her thin lips.

In the end, EL was right, but just not in the way he had always assumed. She didn’t have _an_ other.

She had _four_ … 

and together, they made _five_.

 

* * *

 

He landed on his feet this time, cratering into the pavement below as his thighs tensed, taking the brunt of the impact as an impressive little shock wave emanated in rings around him. He was already moving the manhole cover when Raum landed less than gracefully several feet away, crumpling into a broken ball on the hard street. He whimpered lowly as he cracked himself back into composure.

“Keep her busy.” Quinlan barked the command as he moved into the small hole, stepping down onto the ladder and reached to pull the cover closed to hide his escape path. “Buy me as much time as you can.”

Though he couldn’t _see_ the beast, he could hear it clawing is way down the side of the building, barrelling down on them as fast as her seraphim speed could manage.

“Keep her _busy_?! Are you mad?!” Raum snapped his arm back into place, growling as he came back to his feet. “Wait! Where the _bloody hell_ are you going?!”

“It is clear you are _faster_ than I.” Quinlan shrugged, offering an excuse veiled as compliment. “Meet me in the south junction of the 23rd street tube station.” As the dhampir pulled the manhole cover closed above him, he looked at the marid through the tiny sliver of opening left. “Buy me as much time as you can. Take her the long way around. That is …” Quinlan grinned with mischievous and manipulative intent. “If you can manage it, _Duke_.”

“Hey! I can mana–” Quinlan felt the impact of the dragon on the ground above and even heard a tiny curse from Raum as the marid fled on foot, leading the beast away from him. He waited on the ladder until he was certain she was in mad pursuit and then he jumped down into the belly of the tunnels and smiled gloriously, remembering Vasily’s incessant babbling of this very area.

“ _Thank you, Mr. Fet._ ” He missed the big man and he was suddenly and irrevocably grateful for all this “useless” information of the New York underground. As he navigated through the tunnel system of the sewer, he quickly found his way into the subway just as the Ukrainian had instructed him.

Sandalphon came to mind and he shook his head as he wondered how fortuitous it had been to have met the man. _Everything_ had always been for a reason. _Every single thing_. “Clever little _prophet_.”

He followed the tube passage and jumped up to the platform of the familiar station. The very one that Dawn had fled from the train that fateful day and he had pursued her. He hopped over the fallen and lifeless shells of people litter about the ground and on the stairs. His heart thundered with anticipation and he smiled as he drew nearer to his intended destination.

 _Everything was for a reason. Everything._ Dawn had been drawn to that man for an uncertain reason and he had helped to open Quinlan’s eyes to the _control_ of this _purgatory_. He had told him about the _mind fleas_ and to the conspiracy of this reality. But the dhampir’s absolute certainty slowly waned as he approached the junction of hallways and he heard … _nothing_.

He had hoped to hear the _ranting_ from afar but all was entirely quiet and as he rounded the final bend, his heart fell. No one stood. Not a thing moved. Fallen people littered the area and the bum, his obvious target, was slouched against the far wall, legs sprawled out before his limp figure. His head leaned to the side. His hands open and still in his lap.

Could Quinlan have been wrong? Apparently this man was just like all the rest of the mortal souls here. _Damnation_. This was not what he expected and a Latin curse escaped as he turned to flee back into the belly of tunnels, unsure what he might try next.

**[Free - Tommee Profitt, Svrcina](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0CUFOfa1NU3mf0MttvHhHg%3Fsi%3DOqE88wXhSXyssI3nSZI-Hg&t=YmQxZDZjOWE2NzlmYjkxZWE0ZDIwNzkyMDM1ZWEyZjI2YzBkOTI4MixmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) **

> _Known by the sin of our fathers_
> 
> _Let it all come out and burn like a fire_
> 
> _We’ll shout a little bit louder_
> 
> _Cos the night still has a thousand nights_
> 
> _And when the truth is brought to light_
> 
> _You and I, you and I will be_
> 
> _Free, free, free_

“I … _doubted_.” It was a whisper, laden with sadness and such viceral anguish that Quinlan froze mid-retreat.

Quinlan spun and the man leaning against the wall twitched and spoke lowly. _Oh gods_. He _had_ been right. This man was _not_ like the others and the dhampir’s heart raced again with burgeoning hope. “ _Pardon?_ ” He stepped towards him. “What did you doubt?”

“ _Forgive me._ ” The beggar seemed to stare down into his open, dirty hands before struggling to his feet, using the wall behind him as leverage. Quinlan might have offered him assistance, but he did not imagine the man would accept it. In fact, he _knew_ he would not. “For the first time, _I had begun to doubt you …_ ”

“I do not require your forgiveness. Right now, there is far more serious–” He offered the statement, but as the man continued to speak out into the open space around them, interrupting the dhampir mid-sentence, it was quite obvious Quinlan wasn’t the intended recipient of his words.

“My faith … I am _sorry_. I _faltered. Forgive me._ ” The man reached for a headless mop handle and took several steps towards Quintus as he finally acknowledged his existence, leaning heavily on the makeshift staff. “Well? Shall we?”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right. “Shall … we?”

“Well … She _is_ coming.” The man pointed down the corridor, in the direction from which Quinlan had entered. “I think we should go now. No?” He took several steps in that direction before the dhampir stammered.

“Wait … _Wait_.” This was no place or time for small talk, though Quinlan didn’t imagine he would have even attempted had there been, but he still felt he was missing something and he hated to be in the dark. “ _Who … are you?_ ”

The old man tilted his head just a smidge to the right, pushing the hood of his dirty jacket back. For the first time, the dhampir got a clean view of his overly bearded face, of his matted dark brown and gray hair, of his soot smeared skin, and of his … _glossed_ eyes. He had entirely missed this detail before as the man’s eyes were _so gray_ in color that the matching non-black tint of the pupil had been masked.

“That’s the _wrong_ question.”

Quinlan was not a fool and he actually _knew_ the previous question had been wrong the moment it fled from his lips and his body flooded with bumps as he _knew_ what the right question was even before the man asked for it. “Who … _were_ you?”

“Yes … Good. Clever one, aren’t you?” The sigh that escaped the man’s lungs was long and tortured. “You see … “ He tapped his ear. “ _He_ wept into my ear that night … _my last night on Earth …_ ” He pulled back his sleeves to show Quinlan the scars across his pale wrists. “ _He_ wept when _he_ told me I would need to suffer here … for thousands of years.” He pulled his sleeves back down, subduing the shame that accompanied these marks. “ _He_ asked that I come here … knowing I would bear witness to _all_ the punishments for my _fallen children_.” The man laughed and though his words were sad in nature, this laugh was rich in relief and gratitude. “He wept when he said he needed me to _sacrifice_ myself.”

“Who?” Quinlan pushed, though the answer was quite obvious. “Who _wept_ into your ear … ?” He very nearly called the man _child_ , but even as the title brushed apprehensively across the dhampir’s mind, a shiver ran down his spine, stopping him. He knew _this man_ was older than even himself. In fact, he felt like he had _always_ known _this man_.

“ _My father. My maker. God._ ” The blind man said simply. He was definitely blind, though he stared directly into Quinlan’s eyes and the dhampir swallowed hard. “ _God cried when he asked me to sacrifice_. When he asked me to _die … for this._ ”

“I do not understand.” Quinlan prodded as he looked around. This was taking far too long. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for such _crazy_ banter. And yet … _he needed to know_. “Why would he ask this of you? Why would he–”

“He said that I would need to be here … _at this time_ … _in this place_ …” _Fate_. _That tricky invisible hand._ There should have been no wind in this place and yet the breeze plucked across the man’s face and his mangy hair danced in its chaotic embrace. He smiled, breathing another sigh as he reached out to touch Quinlan’s half human face and much to the dhampir surprise, he allowed him. His dirty fingertips, sticking out from the ends of the tattered gloves, glanced off of Quinlan’s largest cheek scar precisely. “That _you_ would need _my_ help here, _son_ …”

_Son._

There was something so profoundly true in that word and Quinlan found himself unable to shake the feeling that encompassed him now. “Your help …?” He whispered the question. “With what exactly?” Quinlan didn’t want to sound desperate, but he was. He knew he was trapped. He _knew_ he was damned, and he still wasn’t entirely sure if this man wasn’t just mad. “What could _you_ possibly do to help me?” This man was _blind_.

“To help you do what _you_ do best, **_Fifth_** **_Invictus_**.” Was Quinlan really shocked _this man_ knew who he was? Yes _and_ no. Quinlan waited with held breath. “ _Unconquerable. Invincible_. To do what you were **_born_** to do.” The man grinned furiously. “ _Quintus Sertorius …_ sorry … _Quintus … Densus_ …” Quinlan’s doubt of the man’s sanity melted away. “To do what you do better than _anyone else …_ ”

“And what _exactly_ is that?”

“To disrupt, _Prince of the Pale_. To dismantle. To _destruct_. There has _never_ been a cage that could hold you, has there?” The man smiled and for the first time, Quinlan _saw_ a brief glimpse of sanity. Quinlan saw the _man_ behind the _crazy_ and his skin crawled with bumps. “I’m here to help _us_ break free from _this cage_.”

“And yet, you have still not answered my question.” Quinlan tilted his head to the right and peered into the strange visage. “Who _are_ you?”

“I have already said who I am.” The man stiffened and stood tall, throwing his shoulders back as pride filled his posture. “I am the _Prophet of the Lord_.”

“Yes. So you have said.” Quinlan tilted his head the other direction. “And which one would that be? History knows _many_.”

“Really? Certain of _that_ , are you?” The _old_ man chuckled. Old? Was he truly _older_ than Quintus? _Very old_ , in fact.

“Methuselah?” Quinlan offered and the man snorted, waving him off as he began to step towards the tunnels again. “Enoch?” The dhampir scurried after him and his frustration began to mount. “Please, I do not follow. Who _are_ you? Why would _God_ send **_you_** to me? What could a _blind man_ possibly–”

“There is not a single answer to your question. **_I_** have _been_ many, Prince. _My soul has spanned lifetimes._ ”

“How many?”

“ _I have been a prophet of the Lord hundreds of times_. Perhaps more. What does it matter? I’ve lost count now. The years blur since _my_ true beginning.”

“Hundreds?” The question was but a rasp as its true gravity hit Quinlan fully.

“A [prophet](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FProphet&t=YjlhYjE2MmI0ZGVlN2E1NGNjZjA2NjE1Y2YzMGYzZjdjMWQ4N2IwZixmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) is a _dangerous_ thing, or have you not gathered as much yet?” _The prophet_ shuffled around the corner as Quinlan followed. “Surely you realize that _The Great Spirit_ would not have made more than a _handful_ of us. In fact, there have never been more than five …” The man pinched his eyes shut with sadness. “ _At any single time … There is_ **_great_** _power in five, don’t you see?_ ”

 _Five. It was always five_. Not four. There were not _four brothers_. There were five. Five invictii. Five prophets.

“Only _five_?” Quinlan’s mind swam with the possibility of the man’s statement. “But … there have been more than _five_ prophets …”

The man stopped and faced Quinlan. “I … was the [Patriarch](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAbraham&t=MmM0MWZiMGNjODY2ZTU2ZDI0OTFlN2JlYTZhNTEwZWFlNzQ2MGMwMCxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) of _all prophets_. I … led the [Exodus](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMoses&t=ZjEwNzM4YjViYTI3YmQyMjA2YjcwZTM0MGRhNDc4ZWZiMjczYzM1OCxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) of the Israelites out of Egypt. I … built an [ark](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FNoah&t=ZGE2NWQ0ODcwOWZkYmRlMDk0YTFmZTRlMWY4MDQwZjkwZGUwMDkxMixmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) so massive that my children could persist _after God’s childish wrath_. I … brought [peace](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FGreat_Peacemaker&t=ZDZjNjBjZDA2NmJlNGViNzVmZmZlNjE2ZDEyY2VjMTk1OWFjOTAzNyxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) to the _five_ warring clans of the Iroquois nation. I have been burned at the stake more times than I care to remember. _And where I am the alpha._ ” _Deganawida_ closed his eyes, taking in a deep and passionate breath, relief washing over him as he shed all need for disguise. “My child … _your love_ … is the _omega_.”

“The … alpha … ?” Quinlan squinted at him. “You are … ” The Alpha prophet himself. Patriarch of all the prophets. The First? Which meant before even Lilith herself. And this simple fact left only _one_ possibility. Quinlan was unsure if he should be surprised or impressed. He had met _many_ who were more impressive, hadn’t he? “You are …” And yet, this caused him great pause. “Adam.”

“ _Was._ ” The man stretched. “I **_was_** … at one point … at one _time_ … in _another_ life … very far from _this_ one.”

“Was. So then _what_ are you _now_?”

“Now?” That smile. Quinlan knew it though he was certain he had never met this man before. He knew what it was and what it expressed because he felt connected to him. The feeling of that connection coursed through his veins. “At _this_ point in time? At _this_ instance?” The man placed his hand on the dhampir’s shoulder and gripped it with a familiarity that rattled Quinlan to his very core. “ _I am to be your salvation, my son._ ”

 

* * *

 

There was a concerning vibration in the background, though he knew he had heard this before, he wasn’t able put his finger on what it was. _Not yet at least. This_ should have been his first concern, as EL considered his memory _unmatched_.

He knelt on _that rock_ and touched it inquisitively. He had left her _right here_. Dammit. He stood and squinted into the vast darkness, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his head, lest she might be watching him. Best not to give away his utter confusion. “Where’d you go, you slippery fuckers …”

While he _knew_ Michael was here, he wasn’t sure if Raphael had been foolish enough to follow his brother in. “I know you’re here!” He called out. “Come on!” He waved his arms around, egging them on. “Aurora … _where did you go_? Aurora!?”

Something glinted in the distance and he casually strolled towards it, his footsteps echoing against _nothing_ and everything all at once in the infinite and dark space. “Ah hah! There you are.”

As he approached, his head craned to the left. Wait, that wasn’t _Aurora_. It was much larger than her and it glinted of bronze for a moment. Or perhaps it was silver? Or maybe even gold …

“Gabriel?” EL snorted merrily. “Are you _serious_?!” Oh this was getting good. The brute would be the easiest path into the Nexus. He would take him _right now_ in fact, but as he closed the distance, he thought he saw Michael instead, or perhaps it was Ozryel?

As he got closer and closer, he did see _Dawn_. Short and still. Standing and silent. Her eyes were closed and he stopped five feet from her, pausing as the uncertainty rattled him. _Where was the Indigo Child_? “You guys really should have stayed out. This isn’t _Earth_.” He waved his hands around at the space in Dawn’s mind. “I’m in charge _here_.”

“Takes a _big man_ to pick on such a _tiny woman_ , doesn’t it?” Gabriel voice echoed from somewhere, from _everywhere_ , all at once, but her lips hadn’t moved. “Feel proud of yourself, Lucy?”

“Small woman? EL chuckled and his laugh was thick and rich with disgust. “You have no idea what she’s capable of. You always think size indicates strength. Haven’t I proved you _wrong_ enough times, _big_ brother?”

“That, my dear, sweet, _lost_ , little sibling …” This was Ozryel’s voice. Her quip rattled through the darkness as she snickered. “Is actually exactly what _we’re_ hoping for.”

“ _Enough_.” EL scowled at Dawn, cocking his head to the right and twitching like the bird of prey he was. “I’m done here.” He reached into her mind, feeling for anyone or anything. “I don’t have _time_ for you right now.”

“ _But … all we have is time_ , you little shit.” Michael laughed with unhindered amusement leaking in his voice. Everything began to hum louder.

**[Champion - Barns Courtney](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0FNLnZRNWEIbGsb8jkU2lv%3Fsi%3DNYkgPrXrTDitE3fYh6v4Hg&t=YzA2YjMwZmEyNzY3NjhlM2Q1N2I1ZjdhMDAxMDJkNDNiMmM0MDg0YSxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) **

> _I’ve been on a long road_
> 
> _With the_ **_devil_** _right beside me_
> 
> _Rising with the **morning sun**_
> 
> _It’s a_ **_hunger_** _that drives me_
> 
> _Woah Lord, set my soul_
> 
> _Take my pain and turn it into_ **_gold_**
> 
> _Cause all I know, all I know, all I know is…_
> 
> **_Champion_ **
> 
> _I can take a beating, I’ll rise again_
> 
> _Burning through the jungle until the end_
> 
> _I can live_ **_forever_** , _I’ll rise again_
> 
> _Keep rising up I’m_
> 
> _Champion_

That _sound_. _Fuck_. He _knew_ that sound. The darkness itself had started to vibrate with its rhythm and she hadn’t moved yet. Not even to open her eyes and EL laughed, masking his concern, as he always did.

“It’s not too late.” This time it was _her_ and though her lips moved, her voice came at him from _all directions_. “You can go back _home_ , EL. _I’ll allow it._ ” A smirk. She was making him the very same _offer_ he had _just_ made her. “Trust me, it’s a better deal than _Heaven_ will offer.”

“I’ve been _patient_.” His voice cracked with budding disappointment as he sighed all too dramatically. His form moved and he reshaped himself. His height stretched several feet and his tail slithered towards her, weaving its way around her ankles as the crown of his cobra physique flexed out around his face, curving up around his entire head. “I assure you, far more patient than I have ever been with _anyone_. You should be honored.”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome and _we’re_ gonna have to ask you to leave now.” There was a familiar vibration in those words. Her tone was more masculine than feminine and the vibrations only increased. It wasn’t just one voice. It was _many_.

“Oh Aurora, Aurora, Aurora … who _the fuck_ do you think you’re talking to?”

“My name …” That _damn_ noise. It had been distant, but now it was clean and sharp and overly _familiar._ He remembered it. He had trouble recalling it before because he had only heard it once, at the very moment of his creation. This was the sound of the Living Creatures locking into the chariot. It was the vibration of the individual Hayyoths seeking alignment within the gears of the divine wheel itself. And then the noise hummed with absolute clarity. It began to spin all around them. Faster and _then_ faster. Wind blew through EL’s hair. “Is _Dawn_.”

“Oh … ” EL whispered as a confident grin stretched across her face and he fought the urge to take a step back when she _looked_ upon him with matching _rainbow_ eyes. “ _Fuck_.”

 

* * *

 

It was too late. This discussion had delayed them far too long and Quinlan was not surprised when Persephone rounded the corner ahead of them. Though, he _was_ surprised to see Raum’s feet in her claws as she drug him carelessly behind her.

“You seem to have _forgotten_ something!” Upon seeing the dhampir, she chortled with glee. “Pity, I _might_ have dropped a bit of him along the way though.” Quinlan hadn’t noticed that the body was lacking its head until she flung the limp Marid towards him with as much strength and speed as possible. He attempted a dodge, but the body hit him with such force, he continued with its trajectory into the brick wall behind them, connecting with the blind prophet as he went. “I’m afraid he wasn’t as fast as you _assumed_.” The next cackle echoed.

“And you are dumber than I imagined! Fleeing from me into the bowels of the Earth?!” She grunted a low and guttural chuckle. “Stupid thing. Did you forget this is _my domain_!” The walls shook and the brick that lined them cracked and fell as the ground around the tunnel heaved and swayed to her will. “There are no _windows_ down here from which you might _flee_ me. _I have won_.”

 _Damnation_. _Useless Djinn!_ Quinlan pushed the headless body from him and came to his feet, glimpsing that the prophet was now unconscious from the impact. He might have cursed, but her claws prevented it as she pinned him against the brick. Leaning down, she took in his smell with deep and eerie inhales. She tasted him from his aroma, drawing it out of the air itself and she licked her lips, showing pleasure from its flavor.

He struggled against her grip. “Stop fighting me. It’s pointless. _Useless in fact_. No one can help you. Just give in to me, _Invictus_.” Persephone purred into his ear and she stroked the hair that was still upon his head with strange affection. “Surrender.”

He grunted like a child, tensing and thrashing. He bit down, flexing his muscles against her strength. This position. This feeling. Being subdued. Being dominated. It was unacceptable. Clenching his jaw, he felt panic set in and he struggled harder than he even had against Raphael when the angel had pinned him in a very similar way.

“No. No. _No. I must go. Release me, Demon!_ ” He chanted over and over and then something began to give. The wall behind started to _soften_. In fact, everything began to _soften_. If her eyes hadn’t grown large with burgeoning worry, he would have thought it was her doing, but Persephone pulled him back from the brick and flung him away, sending him skidding across the ground on his side.

“I am _insulted_! Why don’t you like it here, Invictus? I gave you a beautiful wife. A perfect little family, albeit just a little broken by design. I thought you might enjoy something you would have to _fix_. It would have made it feel more … _like yours_.” Persephone ruffled her frills as she spoke. Her scaled dragon lips exposing the large teeth in graceful waves as she spoke. “I gave you a life that most would cherish.”

“It is not real.” He was back on his feet, glancing at the still unconscious prophet. _Useless_! “They are _not_ real. Dawn is _real_. Dawn is–”

“Aurora?! She is above you, lowly _born_ bastard slave. You should be _happy_ that she is free of this place and free of _you_.”

“And _that_ was your folly, _Demon_. There _is_ no happiness without her.”

“If you _really_ cared for her, you’d let her go, wouldn’t you? Everything that _you_ touch, turns to ash. Every _one_ that you love, eventually suffers for it.” She paced before him. “I _gave_ you a suitable replacement, didn’t I? A _far more beautiful_ one.”

“I believe you and I have two _very_ different definitions for _that_ word.” Quinlan shook his head as he laughed at her attempted manipulation. “And I will reject _any soul_ you give me to replace her. You cannot … you _will not_ … control my emotions.”

“Oh, you simple little thing. You think that was just _any_ soul? Didn’t you _recognize_ her? Didn’t she feel … _familiar_ to you?”

“What treachery–”

“I plucked her from _my_ garden _especially_ for you. Out of all the ripe ones, I picked her … for _you_.”

“You are _mad_. You implying I could have _wanted_ that … _thing_?!” He knew this was harsh, but he wished to make a point of it.

“Do you _still_ not recognize her, _little lord_? Think. Remember.” The stench of her hot breath nauseated him. “Your precious, lost … _tormented_ … _tragic priestess_.”

“No.” Quinlan blinked. She was lying. She _had_ to be. _No. NO._ “ ** _NO._** ” Purgatorium was filled with the lost and most broken souls of Hell and he _knew_ her words were truth. The familiarity hadn’t been fabricated. The unshakable sense of responsibility that had plagued him. The sense of _shame_ , of _betrayal_. The sense that he had _failed_ her … _Oh gods …_ Persephone had indeed used this to control him.

“As you said, I cannot control your emotions. That was … _all_ you.” Her tongue pressed against the back of her fangs and she whistled the word through her teeth. “You used her up …”

“Stop.” He didn’t wish to remember this.

The beast snickered. “Used her up and spit her out. As you do with _everyone_. Just as you would have done with _my niece_. Michael was right.” She purred. “You are a piece of _shit_ , just like _all_ of them are. They will use us up and spit us out. All the same … _all the same_.”

 _Her niece_? This was the first folly she had made and Quinlan heard it. _Hers_. Was there a _crumb_ of affection there?

“Wait … is this _really_ your plan?” He laughed. “To force my compliance through self-loathing?” He shook his head. “You are too late, _beast_. I already hate myself more than _any_ creature can. There is _nothing_ that you need to say to make it more true, but that will _never_ dissuade me from _my happiness_.”

“Happiness?” She scoffed Did _your priestess_ experience your … _happiness_?”

“Then that is why _you_ failed.” He laughed. She lunged again and he was too slow again. She squeezed his ribs and even through the pain of her strength, _he laughed_. “Do you not realize the folly? The fact that I did not love her was _why_ she killed herself.”

“You cared for her once. _You still do_. I feel it.” Persephone licked the side of his face and rolled the tongue in her mouth as she relished in his skin’s taste.

“Caring and _loving_ are two different hearts.” Quinlan tilted his head, carefully considering his next words and their ultimate intention. He was about to utter something quite incendiary and her reaction might be explosive. “You would know that … _if you ever bothered to love_.”

Bellowing a gargantuan laugh that echoed, she cackled at his attempt to infuriate. “That is rich _coming from someone as repugnant as you_. I’ve seen your mind. Your memories. I doubt that even what you feel for _Child of Prophecy_ is _real_ love.”

But something had been plaguing him since he _woke_. It had itched at the back of his brooding mind and now was the time to call it out. If she wanted to _chat_ , then he would comply. “ _You are full of shit._ ” The language was overly vulgar on purpose to pique her attention and it worked beautifully.

“Excuse me?”

She gripped his neck tighter and he pulled at her claws, trying to relieve enough pressure for him to speak again. “ _You know it_. Or else why would you send us to that museum … _together_? Of _all_ the places to send us … ”

“Me? I did no such thing.” She lied. She was a _terrible_ liar. “I was _toying_ with you both!” The laugh was _nearly_ genuine, but he smirked slightly as he picked up the hint of dishonesty lingering in the very back of her tone. “You know _nothing_.”

“ _Bullshit_. The fliers in the lobby … the _last day_ … ” He could _see_ it now. In her face. In her eyes. The tone of her words. He could _see_ her agony. She was a prisoner herself, the same as he. His lips curled up and what Quinlan did next was _entirely_ against his nature. He took a deep breath and _surrendered_ to her. Every muscle relaxed and he whispered the word again. “ _Bullshit_.” She could have ripped him apart at this moment, and instead, her claws loosened. This had been nothing more than a game to her and he wasn’t going to play it any longer. “ _You wanted us to find each other. You wanted us to_ **_love_**.”

“I wanted …” Persephone stuttered. “… I wanted her to see the _repugnant_ thing I _know_ to be.”

“ _Bullshit._ You _fear_ her. You would _not_ have toyed with her heart as such.” Quinlan stood tall before her and touched his neck as he stretched it, clearing his throat. “The museum. The exhibit. Beauty. Monstrosity. The battle between _light_ and _dark_. _Michael vs. Lucifer_. You were painting our narrative for us to see. You were trying to awaken–”

“I wanted her to see you. I wanted you to _reject_ her for who she _really_ was. I wanted her to experience the pain I have. I wanted her to see who your true heart. What _men_ really are …”

“ _Bull … shit_.” She ruffled at the word and Quinlan smirked, shaking his head at her continued excuses _and lies_.

“You are right, Quintus.” This came from the side as the prophet _finally_ spoke. “She pushed you two together. She wanted to watch you fall in love again. She wanted to feel the _love_ that _I know_ she so desperately misses.”

“Shut up!” She spun, spitting at the man. “Enough!”

“And the reason is _so very simple_. It’s because …” The homeless man hummed. He was back to his feet finally, with that ridiculous mop handle in his hand again. “ _Persephone has always been a romantic at heart._ ”

“Don’t speak as if you know me, _dirty peasant_!” Her attention diverted to the raggedy man and she took several menacing steps towards him, threatening as she approached. “I will wipe your mind again and again _and again_. As many times as it takes.”

“Wipe it then. Again and again _and again_. Send your fleas in. It makes no difference because it will never stick. It never has and it never will.”

“You are a continued annoyance I will no longer tolerate. Just a fly. Buzzing around my world.”

“Do you not wonder why, Maiden?” Quinlan interrupted. “Do you not _know_ what he is?! What makes him _different_?!”

“Nothing makes him different! He’s _just_ a man.” She hissed towards the beggar. “I’ve been in his mind and he’s _just_ a man.” She spun again. “You’re … _just a damned man_ , like all the rest here.”

“You are absolutely right, _big sister_.” _Sister_. Persephone paused. Her shoulders and neck frill rattled as she shook in disagreement with _that word_. “I am _just_ a man, but _hardly_ like all the rest. And each time you take from my mind …” A breeze danced across the air. “ _Our Father will always give it back to me._ ”

 _Our … Father_.

“No!” She charged him and Quinlan knew there was no time to react. She charged at the gray, frail man, but he stood his ground, not moving an inch as she came to a stop before she touched him. “Stop!”

“I _am_ just a man, _big sister_.” He reached up to touch her cheek and she shrieked at the motion, moving away just slightly enough from his reach that he could not touch her. “I am _just_ a man. In fact, the _only_ man who shares _your father_ , sister.”

“ … lies … You are lying.” Her resistance to his words waned. “You … _you_ … _you_ wouldn’t be here. _You wouldn’t have … damned yourself_ …”

“I would have said the same of you, _beautiful maiden_.”

“ … lies … No. Enough! I will not be–”

“אויב איר טאָן ניט טראַכטן וועגן דעם, איר טאָן ניט טראַכטן וועגן דעם .רעהטאָרב רווי אָסלאַ מאַ, איך טאָן ניט גיין”

And as the enochian flowed freely from his lips, she came down to her knees before him, accepting the truth of his words and the truth of his soul. Quinlan had no idea what was uttered, but absolute relief followed her whispered word: “ _Adam_? Why … _why didn’t you say something?!_ ”

It was perfect. This distraction was _perfect_. The dhampir grinned with sinister intent as he quietly dipped to retrieve his sword, approaching her from behind.

He would have swung the blade up and down through her unsuspecting neck, but Adam waved a hand towards him, halting the stealth attack. “Put the sword down, Quintus. There is no longer a need for it. The fight is done.”

“Wait … _what_?!? Are you … mad?!” The dhampir stared at the blind man with budding frustration. “You cannot trust her! If you are not here to help me _defeat_ her, then why are–”

“There is more than _one way_ to defeat an opponent, _General Densus_.” Adam reached out for her again and this time, she allowed him contact with her skin. “When I said _I was sent here_ to help free _us_ from this _terrible_ cage … from this accursed place … from this endless punishment and torment …” He gripped each side of her massive jaw and pulled the beast’s head down to his level and she allowed it, his touch seemed to soothe the burning fire within her. “From damnation.” Pressing his cheek against the scales of her face, he sighed deeply. “I was not referring to just _you_ and _I_ , Quintus. It’s time to go home, big sister.”

Quinlan’s brows knitted together and his forehead grooved with lines of intense expression as he watched the once great and giant dragon melt back into the frail, old woman she had begun as. Adam accepted her, his arms wrapping around her tiny frame and she wept into his raggedy coat as he rocked her back and forth.

“You should _not_ be here.” She cried. “What have you done to yourself? You should not–”

“You have been _so_ very angry for _so very_ long. But it’s not your fault. You’ve simply forgotten how _not_ to be. It’s time to let the despair go. I was sent here to remind you …”

“I … _I am damned. I am alone_. Forgotten.” Her words refused him, but her body did not and he rocked her, cradling her head against his shoulder. “ _Forsaken_.”

Adam grinned ever so slightly. “Damned? Perhaps, _sister_. Perhaps. But never alone and absolutely _never_ forgotten. _You have never been forsaken._ Father has _never_ torn his eyes from you … even in your time here.” Adam pulled back and cupped her wrinkled cheeks in his tattered gloves, the very tips of his fingers poking through the torn leather ends and touching her white skin directly. “In fact, his trust in you was so fundamentally absolute that he _chose_ to let you come here, just as he chose _me_. We are _not_ forsaken. _We are chosen_.”

“I …” Surrender washed over her and she questioned the prophet with great apprehension. “Do you _still_ hear him?” The blind man nodded simply.

“Such is my curse.”

“Does he …” She swallowed hard. “Can he … _forgive_ me?”

“You have _never_ needed his forgiveness.” Adam pulled away from her completely now and she wiped the tears from her face. “Never _then_ and never _now_. But your next choice will ultimately determine whatever redemption you wish to seek _for yourself_ , big _sister_.”

“Redemption?” The word hung on her shriveled lips and she considered it carefully. “I am not worthy of such–”

“ _All things are worthy of redemption_.” Adam shook her slightly. “ _Everything that has ever been created_ is worthy of forgiveness … _and redemption_. So what will it be, sister? Freedom _or_ confinement? War _or_ peace? Damnation _or_ redemption?”

“I …” She looked down, shaking her head twice before she met the prophet’s gaze again, understanding what they were asking for. “I can’t help you. I don’t know the way out.”

“Of course not.” Adam grinned. “Of course you don’t. You’re a prisoner, the same as me. We cannot break this cage, _sister_ …” He flicked his head towards the silent figure who watched their interaction without interruption. “But _he_ can.”

Quinlan looked shocked to be called out and he motioned to his own chest. “Me? How can I–”

“You cut your way into this place.” Adam shrugged and pointed towards the sword in Quintus’ hand. “He says you can cut your way out. Do you remember where you tore through?”

“I do not understand. How can I do something _she_ cannot?” He pointed at the old woman. “Is this not–”

“It’s the _Power of Creation_.” Revelation danced across her hazel eyes as Persephone understood at once and she smiled, staring at his bone sword and then deep into his eyes. “You are an extension of Ozryel himself. Your soul _reeks_ of his divinity.”

“Yes.” Adam agreed. He turned to the reluctant dhampir, leaning heavily on his “staff” as he did. “I am told that you started a rebellion in Heaven, _Prince of the Pale_. And I am told that _now_ … **_it’s Hell’s turn_**.”

“Very well then … I can try.” The dhampir gripped the blade in his hand, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he shrugged. Just as he was an extension of Ozryel, his blade was an extension of him. In another time, in another place, he would resist fully accepting her as a new ally so quickly, but something felt remarkably right about the situation. He took several steps toward the tube exit, but neither moved to follow him. “ _Well?_ Are we going?”

“Quintus …” Persephone cleared her throat with a tiny giggle and Adam sighed, shaking his head as he pointed the end of his mop handle towards the limp and headless body against the southern wall, expressing disappointment in the dhampir’s feigned ignorance. “Perhaps we should retrieve Raum’s head first?”

Quinlan hadn’t _purposefully_ forgotten about the downed Djinn, or at least he would _never_ admit that openly. The man had helped him, however pointless it had been and the dhampir groaned. “ _Fine_. I suppose he _may_ still be of _some_ use.”

 

* * *

 

**[House of the Rising Sun - The Animals](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F7BY005dacJkbO6EPiOh2wb%3Fsi%3DAyK1lUg_TtyPLgyIsO1xaA&t=OThlMzBhMDM2MGExOGI1MzA2OGZkNjkwY2I1NTA2MTRjYjU0N2FhZixmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1) **

> _And don’t forget what your name is_
> 
> _And know what the game is_
> 
> _From the North coast to the South coast_
> 
> _From country to country_
> 
> _Mind to mind_
> 
> _Generation to generation_
> 
> _From time to time_
> 
> _And to sniff across your mind_

It wasn’t at all what she was expecting. It wasn’t order. It wasn’t beautifully aligned. It was absolute fucking chaos. They locked into place and as the divine wheel began to spin around her, everything hummed in beautiful harmony until EL came at them. He saw her eyes and there was _no hesitation_. She envied his quickness to act but it did not belay the fear that she saw thick in his eyes.

But then everyone tried to step forward _all at once_.

Well, not entirely _everyone_. She and Raphael watched as the other three struggled for control, attempting to block his first blow. As a result, Dawn took _no action_ at all, and they went sliding across the ground.

It didn’t help that she could _feel_ another fight taking place at the same time, but this one was _not_ in her mind. This one was on Earth. Each of the Angels, including EL, was splitting their attention between the two.

EL pulled her to her feet and his forehead connected with hers. Everything echoed with viscous waves as the force of his strike drew sparks across all their sights.

> “Good lord!  Who’s elbow is in my face?!!” Ozryel screamed.
> 
> “Oz, no one has elbows in here!” Michael sighed.
> 
> “If it’s not an elbow, then what the hell is it?!” She bellowed. “Oh god, Gabriel that better not be you!”
> 
> “Yeah, you’re gonna _wish_ that was my _elbow_.” Gabriel quipped back, snickering sinisterly.
> 
> “ _Oh my fucking god … that had_ **_better_** _be your god damned elbow!_ ” Ozryel was horrified and Gabriel was laughing.
> 
> “FOR FUCK’S SAKE! THERE ARE NO ELBOWS HERE! OR ANYTHING ELSE!!!” Michael wailed.

Another strike was imminent and she felt them all flood forward again.

> **“I’ve got this!” The three of them said all at once.**

It was _too much_. There was _too much_. EL hadn’t let go of her since the last hit and he cocked his head back as he prepared for _another_ blow and everything slowed to a stop as Dawn gasped for breath. She didn’t even know _where_ she was anymore. She was inside of her mind … _inside of her mind_? Oh god … Everything reeled and she thought she might throw up, but of course, there was no _body_. Nor was there a stomach from which to eject stuff. There was just _this_. Just … _her_. Her and … _them_. The chaos of … _them_.

“I don’t know how to …” She wasn’t even entirely sure who she was talking to and when no one responded, she realized there was no one she _could_ talk to. Everything had _stopped_. No, that wasn’t entirely right. She had _stopped_ everything.

“ _Oh shit_.” She spun but nothing changed. She was alone. “Oh no. No, no, no, no.” She remembered the confluence and Ellie and Lilith. She remembered their training and she closed her eyes (even though she had no eyes) and she took a deep, long breath (even though she had no lungs) and her heart raced furiously (even though this was _just_ her mind) and she focused. She focused on _one_ person in particular.

“Very good.” He responded as she released him, or rather, _pulled him_ into her bubble. “You’re learning.” He smiled. She didn’t _see_ his grin of course, but she _felt_ it.

“I suck at this.” She had barely begun to reinforce her lack of confidence and she _felt_ him shake his head. “Are they _always_ like this?!”

“ ** _Yes_**.”  The answer was immediate and curt.  She thought it was intended for humor, but his face was entirely serious.

“I can’t–”

“I have _never_ heard Sandalphon utter those words.” He stated it as plain as day. “Not in a million years.” That time span _sounded_ facetious, but something assured her … _it was likely not_.

“I’m _not_ Ellie.” She retorted, stating the obvious but she somehow knew she would regret this _doubt_.

“Clearly you’re not.” Raphael shrugged, squinting at her with friendly, yet manipulative eyes. “You’re _much_ stronger than _she_ has _ever_ been. Than she _could_ ever be.”

_Shit._

She waved towards the other three angels in disgust. She knew it was childish to _blame_ Raphael, but her embarrassment allowed the words to rush forth without much lingering thought. “You’re not saying anything. You were just _standing_ there. Why don’t you just do it? I’ll let you. You can–”

“It’s not _my place_ to _command_ here.” Raphael admitted without an ounce of arrogance. “I can’t _feel_ them as you do. Besides …” A small and innocent snicker leaked out of his jovial words. “Right now, they are _much more likely_ to surrender to _you_ than me.”

“Yeah _right_.” She dismissed his claim with a huffed breath. “I don’t buy that for _one second_.”

“I’ve caused them to doubt me. And rightly so.” He admitted. “I’ve kept things from them. I’ll have to earn that trust back, but you … “ Oh _god_. That damn smile. “They _want_ to trust you. I _can_ feel that.”

“I just … Can you help me?” She looked at them and then she looked at him. “I don’t know if–”

“Does a sword _command_ the person who wields it, Dawn?” She didn’t want to answer his question and really, she knew it didn’t matter if she did. He was right and she was just stalling. “Do you take orders from _it_ … Or you do _command_ it?”

“But … What happens if we do and I force him out?” She was terrified to hear the answer. “What happens if we succeed?”

“You know the answer to that.” Raphael was full of bitter honesty. “He will be pushed back to _Hell_.”

“And what about Quintus?” She jumped on the question immediately. It plagued her more than any other. “He’s still there … I shouldn’t have left him there.”

“That’s a _very_ good question. One I have _no doubt_ Sandalphon has already considered. Whatever you might think of her _now_ , you and I both know … _there’s more left to whatever plan she set into motion._ ” She _felt_ the longing that raged in Raphael’s heart. “So I suggest … We give _The Born_ as much time as he might require.” She felt his hands on her arms, turning her back around to face the fight. To face her other _uncles_. “ _How long do you think the two of us can keep our Light Bringer busy?_ ”

“You mean the _five_ of us.” She corrected and she _felt_ the archangel _beam_ from behind.

“Yes. **_Five_**.”

 _There is power in_ **_Five_**.

He pushed on the middle of her back gently, urging her to step toward. “Now … _try again_.”

_Ah hell._

* * *

Adam was _less_ than spry in his stroll. He took up the rear and they had to slow down for him quite often. But it was now only a few more blocks to the point of Quinlan’s initial entry to purgatory and the dhampir slowed down, allowing Persephone and Raum to take the lead so that he might steal a private word with the _prophet_.

“You can hear _him_?” Quinlan asked lowly. “God _speaks_ to you _even now_?”

“I can _always_ hear him. Even when others _do_ not. Even when he himself does not wish it. This is my _gift_. _My curse._ ”

“Hmmm.” The dhampir nodded as he carefully considered his next line of questioning.

“Just ask. He already knows what you wish to know.”

“Can he …” Quinlan resisted the emotion, but his voice quaked with the words. “Can he _see_ her now?”

“He is _always_ watching her. All of us, in fact.”

“Did she make it through her gate?” Quinlan slowed his pace even more, putting more distance between them and the two in front. “Does she live again?”

“Yes.”

A wave of relief flushed his body and he breathed out deeply

“But she battles the Morning Star now.” The Prophet grinned with _great_ pride. “One of _my_ children fights against the _greatest of snakes_ right now, for _the existence all_.” Adam’s smile only widened further, exposing the coffee stained enamel of his underlying yellow teeth. “Between the two of us …” He leaned in and whispered the next words as if they were a great _secret_. “I don’t think the the Light Bringer understands the wrath that he has unleashed.”

“No. He does not.” Quinlan tried to meet his smile, both in pride and love, but his weariness shown through. “She is … _defiant_.”

“She’s with her uncles.” Adam nodded. “ _She is with Raphael now. She has embraced them all._ ”

This sentence, this thought, was incredibly comforting and Quinlan pinched his eyes shut. “ _Good_.”

“But …” Adam gripped his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “It was _not_ just _her_ wrath I was speaking of … Your wrath is quite _legendary_ , Prince.”

“My wrath …” Quinlan sighed, shutting his eyes in shame. “My anger drove me for _much_ of my life. It was addictive, in a way. I fed off of it, and it fed from me. But now …“ Quinlan stared down at his gloves. "I am fueled by a _new addiction_ , a better one, I feel.”

“Do you _really_ think _she_ is an addiction, Quintus?”

“There is no better word to describe the visceral _need_ I feel for her.”

“You can just call it _love_.” Adam nearly laughed. “All things in creation are worthy of _it_. Even you, Quintus. In fact, most _especially_ you.”

“I … I wished to prove myself worthy. I told Michael I would, but I … sent her on _alone_. I promised her I would not do so again. I promised–”

"You worry, but there is no need for that.” Adam noted. “She _will_ win, _and that outcome, thanks to you diving head first into the belly of the pit itself, thanks to you following her beacon into the most terrifying of places, Invictus, is already in motion._ Her victory is _unstoppable_. _That has always been_ **_her_** _fate_ … but …”

Quinlan opened his pale eyes. “But?”

“ _But our_ fates … Our _outcome_ … has _never_ been certain, _Prince of the Pale_.”

“Well?” Persephone interrupted, waving at a spot near in the middle of the road. “This is where he _popped_ right in, swinging his _big_ sword everywhere and cutting my little dolls in half like a barbarian.”

“Are you sure?” Raum looked around, his hand finding its way back to his neck as he stretched it again. Since they had pieced him back together, he hadn’t been able to leave his neck alone let alone stop glaring at Persephone when the situation would permit. He kept a cautious five foot distance directly behind her. “I don’t see anything.”

“No you don’t.” Adam leaned on his mop handle. “But _he_ does … don’t you, _Quintus_?”

Stepping forward, the space flooded him with memories. _Yes_. This was where it happened and _yes_ , he did see _something_ , but nothing like what he was expecting. He thought it might be a gate of some sort, as Dawn had described hers, but this was almost unperceivable.

The only thing he could see was a blurry spot hovering in the air about five feet high, barely the size of his fist. As he tilted his head from side to side, approaching it slowly, it flickered and undulated, weaving in the air as if it was a heat distortion dancing back and forth above an invisible fire.

As he approached it, he could hear something _seeping_ from it. It was a faint whistling, as if the air was escaping from a tiny hole in a balloon. It was a _pressure_ leak.

“Alright. Great. So what now?” The Djinn asked, but no one answered as they watched Quinlan reach into the spot and his hand faded from site. “Whoa …”

The dhampir pushed his fist in as far as he could and then he felt the edges of the rip fight against the full size of his arm. When he pulled his hand back out, he was relieved to see it was still in tact. But this hole was _too tiny_ for his entire body though. “It’s too small.” He voiced the concern out loud, not expecting an answer, yet Adam provided one nonetheless.

“He says to make _it_ bigger then.”

 _Hmmm_. Taking a deep breath, Quinlan reached both sets of his fingers into the space and gripped the invisible edges of the hole from the inside. He was certain it would not budge, even as he put his full strength behind it. There was a grunt and he pulled his hands back out. “I cannot.”

“It’s not about _strength_.” There was a hand on his shoulder and he didn’t need to turn around to know it was Adam. “Remember what drives you. What motivates you. **_Find the beacon that calls to you, Quintus._**   You followed it here.  Now follow it out.” It was _not_ a coincidence that that was the very word Sandalphon had uttered to him in Heaven. He had no doubt that even now, God and her were working in concert and then he remembered the angel prophet’s words as clearly as if she was right before him, speaking them again.

> “ ** _[Love, you see, Quintus, is the one force that cannot be explained, that cannot be broken down to a chemical process. It is the beacon that, I am hoping, guides you back to her.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F26604741&t=OTljOGJlZDQ4NjM1NGYxNjJmMDJiOGVkNmVkZTFkMTRmZThiN2Y2NyxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1)_** ”

He reached into the void again and gripped its sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking as if they were rubbing against clean metal. Instead of forcing it this time, he _felt_ it. He _felt_ into it.

> “ ** _[And when we find love … no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible … we must cling to it, it gives us our strength, it holds us upright. It feeds on us and we feed on it](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F26604741&t=OTljOGJlZDQ4NjM1NGYxNjJmMDJiOGVkNmVkZTFkMTRmZThiN2Y2NyxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1)_**.”

He _felt_ through it and then beyond it. He _felt_ out and somehow, he heard her in the distance. She was calling him home and sparks arched through his fingers and then his hands and _then_ his arms. He felt the divinity that was shaping this construct and he began to pull it apart and her beacon became louder. Quinlan smiled. “ _I am coming …_ ”

> “ ** _[Love is our grace](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F9850838%2Fchapters%2F26604741&t=OTljOGJlZDQ4NjM1NGYxNjJmMDJiOGVkNmVkZTFkMTRmZThiN2Y2NyxmVGI0RFJFdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177010948198%2Fchapter-132-redemption&m=1)_**.”

The hole widened and he continued to pull, stretching it out all the way to the ground. As it became bigger, the light all around began to leak into the void and there was nothing but darkness beyond.

“Alright, great. You’ve made a hole. What do we do with that?” Raum noted sarcastically from behind. “What’s on the other side? Should we tether something and throw it in?”

“You are more than welcome to cautiously remain here, _great_ Duke.” Quinlan smirked as he drew his blade and stepped into the darkness without further delay.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good lord. Where do I even begin? Well, first I’d like to ask a few questions of my lovely readers who are left … this chapter has been a very long time coming. I’m curious about a few things and I’d love to hear some answers to a few questions I had:
> 
> * Who saw the reveal of Danny being Deganawida and/or Adam?  
> * Who forgot about Deganawida completely? (I mean, he had to have gone somewhere, right?) I kept expecting someone to ask where the hell he was.  
> * Speculation: Who blinded Adam?  
> * Speculation: Who broke Persephone’s Heart?  
> * Speculation: If there is power in FIVE, Quinlan, Raum, Persephone, and Adam make four. Any guesses on who will be their fifth?
> 
> This chapter has been a long time coming and it always takes me longer to write them lately than in the beginning. I don’t think I’m waning in motivation, but rather I’m not looking forward to it coming to an end. Three or Four parts left now (depends on how long winded I make the daring escape from Hell). I hope you are still enthralled and enjoying my long winded drabble.
> 
> Cheers my friends!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	122. 13.3 - Redemption

**[Releaser - Kid Cudi](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F5Tm9At0xeFb0MtlV8uI3eY%3Fsi%3DMCYBQbrmRi253YnAb9s0og&t=ZTk1MGRlZTllYzY3Y2FhZTVmNDQ0MDQzN2U4OWM3NDljYjk3OWQ4NixJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

> _No longer you can deny me, woah-oh_
> 
> _It’s blinding, your glory_
> 
> _Your glory is blinding_  

As the Maiden stepped forward, through the hole in the veil, she felt the curse finally leave her body. In light of her inevitable betrayal, the _Morning Star_ had taken _everything_ from her that she most cherished. Persephone had always been a Goddess of Fertility, and her physical form had very much expressed that sentiment in every way, shape, and … _curve_.

It was like a hot shower washing her clean as she stepped over and through the threshold of the dhampir’s tear in her dollhouse … _in her cage_. Everything that Lucifer had _taken_ from her, to change her, to _torment_ her, the punishment he had inflicted, melted away and she _became_ herself again. The white and wrinkled leather of her skin pulled taunt and its color deepened as warmth flooded into it.

She glowed with an amber aurora and her fingers slowly explored her face first, gently prodding the once-sunken cheeks to find that they were full now. Her hands continued their path upward as she gripped the full volume of her hair, pulling a lock of it down in front of her eyes so that she could see the white had disappeared and it was once again that rich auburn she had missed so very much.

Next, she explored her body and her hands greedily arrested and gripped the curves of her chest as she let out another relief-filled sigh, though this one seemed almost more of a moan, so much so, in fact, that the men present shifted uncomfortably.

“O … kay then. Are you … finished, _sister_?” Raum asked, his eyebrow raised high as he watched her continue to fondle her own body.

“Or perhaps we should allow her some quiet time to herself?” Quinlan’s eyes grew wide as Persephone’s hands meandered down further, exploring the hidden spot between her legs.

“I’m _whole_. I’m … me again.” Relief and gratitude poured forth in her words and she smiled, spinning around once and then twice as she beamed at everyone before settling on a stare directed at Quinlan. “You …” He pointed to his own chest following her word and only managed to take a single half a step backwards as she lunged after him, her arms wrapping around his torso and crushing her chest to his. With hungry eagerness, she thrust her large, ruby lips against his and his eyes widened with half-fright and half-surprise as he froze with rigid uncertainty.

His arms remained steadily at his sides as she watched him resist the urge to shove her away. Her kiss finished and she was pleased to find he at least minimally returned the gesture of it at the very end, his lips pursing to hers as she pulled away a few inches, although she suspected it might have just been to appease her politely as his body was still rigid and unmoved. “ _You_ … “ She repeated. “If I had known you could do _that_ … I promise I would’ve let you out _much_ sooner.” Running a playful finger down the side of his check, she purred an invitation. “Would you like a _proper_ thank you … _Prince_?”

“I … I am … ” He began a quick refusal but she was already leaning forward again. This time, his arms did find hers and this time, he pushed her back forcefully, leaning as far from her body as he could manage without stepping. She could push it, but his body tensed further and her fun with him was clearly done. “ _Flattered._ But … You are … very much … _not_ my type.”

“Oh please. I’m _everyone’s_ type.”

“No.” The statement was firm and his grip on her arms tightened even as her lower lip protruded slightly from his defiance. _Was he really going to refuse her? Her?!_

“He’s Hayyoth, Kore. He’s _divine_.” Adam shook his head and began to walk away, apparently hoping to leave the uncomfortable conversation behind. “Leave the _poor_ boy alone. He doesn’t want you and you know it. He wants another … just as _you_ do.”

“Do not.” Her nostrils flared. “But you’re _right_.” She glanced downwards and smirked, catching his eye as she raised her eyebrow. “I almost forgot about your _little problem_. Such a pity.”

“It … is … not … a …. ” There was a slow stammer and Quinlan flushed with sudden color. His still partially human cheeks turned slightly rosy as her smirk widened further. “… _not a problem. It is how I was made. It is how divine creatio–_ ”

“She knows. _She knows_. Come on.” Adam reached for her arm and pulled her along, leading the way down the enclosed rock corridor that stretched endlessly in both directions.

“Oh well. Whatever.” Persephone glanced back towards him. “ _Your_ loss then. You let me know _when_ you change your mind.”

Quinlan stood for a moment, avoiding Raum’s eyes as he hoped to put distance between himself and the grabby _Maiden_.

“My advice … _Stay away_ from that _one_.” Raum slapped Quinlan’s shoulder as he walked to follow after them, giving a single head shake as he passed. “I wouldn’t even touch her with a ten foot pole.”

“I … _really_ was not going to …” Quinlan was shocked at even the suggestion that he _might_ have been interested. “She is really not my typ–”

“Uh huh. _Sure_.” Raum said from behind the dhampir and Quinlan moved quickly to catch up. “I’m just sayin’. Her ex …” The Djinn cringed. “ _Trust me_. You _don’t_ want to poke that ox.”

“While I’m quite certain I’ve already _poked_ Lucifer. I do appreciate the warning. But honestly, she _really_ is not my–”

“Lucifer? Ha! Oh no. No. No, my dear boy.” Raum laughed out loud. “Lucifer was just the rebound.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow. Look at that! The time is _flying_ , isn’t it?” Sandalphon stood and waved a hand towards the courtyard exit. “Shall we go then?”

Uriel wasn’t buying her invitation and he cocked his head inquisitively. “Oh? Really? Now what are you planning?”

“Now? Yes. Now, my dear brother.” She danced over to his side of the table and nudged him gently on his upper back, urging him to stand. “I need your help with something very … _delicate_. The timing must be perfect, you see. And I need _your_ help. Come.”

“You think I’m gonna go with you? Ha! Not until you _tell_ me what you’re planni–” He had barely begun to demand when the gust of wind violently blew across the tables, an occurrence that did not normally happen in the utopia of Heaven. As the wind grew in force, cups began to blow over on the tables around them. A peculiar but familiar sensation ran across his spine as he stood and stared into the force as it grew even stronger. The chairs began to fall and skid across the cobblestone. Uriel _knew_ what this was because he felt the energy on the wisps of air that danced around his head. He _knew_ who it was and it … _he_ … was urging the Right Hand towards the exit.

“ _Father …_ ” It was a whisper.

“Shhhhh.” She said lowly, sliding an arm through his and they walked together towards the exit as the wind abated. “ _We_ need your help with something … _very, very delicate_.”

“Come on, Andy. Where are we going?” They exited the square and she pulled him along the sidewalk, walking briskly.

“It is almost time.” She tugged him cross the street. They would need an adequately open space to spread their wings. Where they needed to go was very _far_ from here. God, how she longed to spread them after having been hidden for _so very long_. “You see. Quintus was wrong. He thought there were only _three_ ways out of Heaven, but as we both know, there are _four_. I did not correct him because he wished to return to _Earth_.”

“Four? You want me to let you into the _Well of Judgement_.” Uriel stopped and stared. “You want to _go to Hell?_ ”

She pulled him along again and Uriel surrendered as wind brushed against them again. “Only a _Hand_ can open the _door_ to the _Well_ and _no_ … I don’t wish to go to _Hell_ , brother. We just need to open the door is all …” She laughed matter-of-factly. “Or else there won’t be anywhere for _them all to go_.”

“For … _who to go_? Where?! Andy, you aren’t making any sense.” Uriel shook his head. “It only goes _one_ direction. It _only_ goes down.”

“It wasn’t always that way.” The wind blew briefly again and she smirked with glorious intent. “It used to go both ways … before the Morning Star fell.”

“Yeah well, now it only goes down. The other path was closed.”

“Locked. Not closed, brother. And _who_ did that?” They rounded the buildings corner and she eagerly walked out into the widest part of the mostly empty street. “ _Who sealed that door_?”

“Father, of course …” Uriel paused and the breeze tickled him again.

“Yes he did. And I think now you’re getting it, aren’t you?” She shrugged. This was the moment she had been waiting for and bumps of pure excitement flooded across her skin as she began to shed the glyphs carved all around her. Inside and out. _Diminishment. Metamorphosis. Rebirth._ She had hidden from **_him_** for _so very long_ and as she burned the marks away, she became _the Tall Angel Prophet_ again.

Her height, her skin, her wings, her eyes. Sandalphon now towered over Uriel by several feet and gasps were heard from the people around them as crowds stopped to gawk.

“Ok then …” Uriel spread his wings and the wind picked them up with incredible ease, carrying them faster and farther than they would be capable of flying on their own. He cradled them in his embrace and they soared in his arms.

**[Sanctuary - Welshly Arms](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6s4E1Wsbq5X9eHWprIQXIB%3Fsi%3DfQaQI4_BTEC9ZCQvdrCvpw&t=NzE1M2Q4YjMyMTFlZTVkNjZiMjM5MWQ1NGIwM2Q3MjM1MGVmOTFmMSxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

> _I see your hurt, I feel your pain_
> 
> _All of our dirt is washed in the rain_
> 
> _I’ve walked that road, I’ve felt that shame_
> 
> _No place is home but times, they are changin’_

And finally, as she burned away the final glyph, _Obfuscation_ , she reached out through her mind. She closed her eyes and her presence sparked into the _Nexus_ for the first time in thousands of years.

And he felt her there. She knew it, because she felt him too. 

> _I have missed you … so very much, my Traveller._

She felt anger but she was expecting it. He had every right to be _angry_ with her. Rightly so. So angry in fact, that he said nothing in return, but she already knew he wouldn’t. She had seen this far. She had seen _all_ of this, but she had _no idea_ how their story _might_ end.

This moment was the last she had seen of their narrative before _the end of sight. Before the End of Days._

“You still didn’t answer me. So what’s next?” Uriel glided under her, careening around and over her so she could hear him through the gusts of the air.

“Next? **_There is more than one way to defeat an enemy_**.” She uttered the words she _knew_ Adam had just said to small team far below and she smirked as they barrelled towards the mountains. “Next … _Next comes the_ [Rapture](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FRapture&t=NTY5ZWE2ZGIzOTljZGQzZDEwNDI4NjFjZDZhNWUwZmVjYzE3MmYxNCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1), _my brother_.”

 

* * *

 

Guards were sprinkled sporadically about the long, dark, and winding corridors, but their numbers were nowhere near what Quinlan was expecting. In fact, the entire place appeared to be mostly deserted and each time they approached a guarded section in what seemed like an unending path, Adam would touch their backs from behind and thrust his chin forward, holding up his hand to convey the quantity that awaited them around the next bend.

Quinlan regretted having doubted the man’s usefulness and Adam quickly picked up on his wordless admiration. “It is in the very darkest of places where the _blind can see best_.”

Persephone snorted, loud and obnoxious from behind. “Ha! Yeah right … It also helps when you have the _All Father_ whispering everything into your ear, doesn’t it?”

“Well …” Adam shrugged, holding in a mad chuckle. “Yes. I _suppose_ omnipresence helps too.”

“So where is everyone, then?” Quinlan queried the prophet.

“All those who are _of Lucifer’s ilk_ are at the gate.”

Raum had taken point, dispatching their first opposition with eerie stealth and precision. The guard’s eyes barely had time to grow wide as Raum pulled the Djinn’s own sword from his sheath and relieved his head from his shoulders.

“That was not very _merciful_.” Quinlan had quipped, stepping over the body as Raum checked the balance of the curved scimitar.

Finding it of adequate quality and value, Raum opted to keep the blade, shrugging and answering nonchalantly as he stepped over the body as the guard’s eyes followed them. “ _I have my moments._ ”

At the next bend, Persephone tried to step forward, eager to show her usefulness. “I got this one.” All three men halted her at once.

“I think it’s a better idea if we let the boys handle them?” Adam suggested. “With a bit more _quiet_ finesse, yes?”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, pouting slightly as she waved them forward. “Whatever. Do your _thing_ then.”

Quinlan stepped forward when more than one was present, but for the most part, Raum led the escape with absolute covertness. He moved like a _ghost_. Only one Djinn had given him the slightest trouble, and even then, the guard had only lasted seconds longer than the rest. They had spoken each other’s names before Raum downed him and it was clear there was history of some kind. Quinlan assumed that there was likely history between Raum and _all_ those that he was cutting his way through.

“He knows these men?”

“They are …” The question was directed at the prophet, but Raum answered with slight discomfort, nodding solemnly as he heard the question from afar. “These _were … my_ men.”

“They are _still_ your men, Raum.” Adam contended.

“Forgive me if I doubt their current allegiances.”

“Compassion, brother. It has been _much_ longer for them, than it has for you, _Merciful One_. You, of all people, know that we _all_ falter at some point. And it is that stumble that makes us stronger in the end.”

Raum did not respond. He wiped the blade on his sleeve and walked ahead.

**[Devil Like Me - Rainbow Kitten Surprise](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F0HsGh7cboYz6cVMIyFrQ8j%3Fsi%3Dda9fqABaQnaJaVn6etBw1Q&t=YzNkZDczYmRjMzZiYzk4MWI2OTNkYTVmOGRiYTVlM2E1YzJmMmI5OCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

> _My heart and soul were never mine to own_
> 
> _What you care to die for?_
> 
> _What you care to die for?_
> 
> _We die alone_

Quinlan watched the next prey carefully. It was the way the Djinn took charge of the sword that fascinated him. Raum’s skill with the weapon easily surpassed the dhampir’s own. Where Uriel’s blade had been an extension of his body, almost like an extra arm that moved in unison with the rest, Raum _became_ an extension to the blade. Every movement, every swing, every step, and every single muscle that tensed, did so in service to the sword.

As Quinlan watched him dancing with it, something eerily familiar about the way the _Marid_ moved caused a flood of bumps to scatter wildly across the dhampir’s skin and the truth of it occurred to him.

He had seen this before. He had seen _him_ before. In fact, _many times_.

##  **_Sicily, 44 AD …_ **

When Quinlan was a tiny boy, no more than four years old, he had ventured into a nearby village, not far from the olive grove of his birth. Starving, cold, and alone, he had attempted to steal a chicken. This had been his first cruel interaction with _man_ and his first true meeting with _pain_ as their response to his deformities was beyond extreme.

He had been surrounded and when the rocks began to hit his fragile, young skin, he wailed and sobbed, cowering into a ball as they pelted him relentlessly. He didn’t understand the need to fight back and he was too tiny. He didn’t understand their words, but when they brought the fire, he understood their intentions.

And then there was _a man_. Quinlan remembered his boots first, opening his tiny eyes and seeing them before him as the wave of rocks finally abated. There were words spoken, in fact, words _shouted_ between the stranger and the mob but he could not remember what they were, as he was without language at that time.

He felt thick, crimson fabric upon his shoulders, and when he looked up, he found the man’s face kind, _merciful in fact_ , and he pulled a cloak tight around the tiny dhampir’s bloodied body. Quinlan would keep this fabric for years, his most prized possession, clutching it tightly in the dead of the winters, until it would eventually disintegrate completely in his hands from wear. This man … _this stranger_ …

“ _When the fighting begins, you run as fast as you can, boy. And next time … hunt in the woods. Do not return to this place again._ ”

Had the man spoken to him? He didn’t remember exactly and he was _without_ language, but he _remembered_ understanding. Quinlan had done as instructed, running as fast as his tiny body could manage.

When the smell of blood rushed over him, he glanced back only once during his mad escape. He expected to see the crowd descending upon the stranger, tearing the poor man to bits, but it was very much the opposite. The man was cutting through them with absolute grace, using a _strangely curved blade. All of them_.

When he was a safe distance, perched high up on the cliff above, Quinlan watched the village burn to the ground and had always assumed that man had died for him. This was the first moment that he had felt _hope_ for life and _humanity_.

But this man’s face wasn’t Raum’s. He was certain of that, however … _the eyes_. Quinlan squinted as the next memory hit him like a brick.

##  **_[Thrace, 317 AD …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FBattle_of_Mardia&t=NWVlZTkwYTkxZjIzMzA0NmZlMDhjZTcyZjJmZjg2ODNhMmUxMjQ0NixJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) _ **

In the Battle of Mardia, when Quintus had fought for Emperor Constantine against Licinius, he remembered a strange soldier on the field. In that dark, blood-soaked night, nestled in the rocky Balkan mountains, they had pushed the enemy forces into the basin of the Ardas River and in, the heat of the fight, his horse was cut from beneath him.

Pinned by the massive beast as it flailed, heaving its last breaths, he nearly lost his head. An opportunistic Licinian had swung wildly for his neck and a strange soldier swept into the way. The man had _danced_ on the air, seemingly out of nowhere. He watched the _Djinn_ now and the movements were more than just similar. They were exactly the _same_. This red clad figure relieved the attacker of his arms and then his life.

“Next time, _boy_ …” The stranger had quipped, sarcasm rich in his mocking tone as he stared down at the dhampir, re-sheathing a strangely _curved_ blade. “It would be best to _leap_ from the beast before it falls on you. We both know you’re fast enough.” _That accent … Those eyes …_

By the time Quinlan had pushed the dead animal away, the soldier was _gone_. He had sought him after the battle was won, but assumed he had vanquished with _so many that day_.

But this man’s face wasn’t Raum’s. But the eyes … Quinlan cocked his head to the right, remembering the amber irises that had stared down at him out of the darkness of the helmet.

_The eyes were the same._

##  **_[79 AD, Pompeii …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMount_Vesuvius&t=YTBiYWRjNzBkYzU5MzRlMDE5OWYyMGMzM2ZkMDA1YzgxYTE3M2U5ZCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) _ **

Quinlan had died this day and Raphael had resurrected him. He was quite certain now, but the moments before that death, he remembered something he’d nearly forgotten. It was the _eyes_ that jolted this thought.

Nearly upon the Master, the closest he had _ever_ gotten to the strigoi lord, the wind had shifted and the mountain blew. He should have run, but he stayed. In his final moments, he had put himself between the lava flow and a temple full of people. He had pushed the stone slabs of the outermost marble pillars down to divert the flow so the women and children could flee.

He held the stone in place, even as it heated through and the palms of his hands began to melt against it. He clenched his jaw, even as the shear heat of the air began to cook him and his skin bubbled, sizzling and crackling as the city became an oven.

In the end, he had even begun to scream to distract himself from the agony, as it was unlike anything he had ever felt. In all of his strength and endurance, he knew he could not hold it forever and as the molten liquid began to flow over the top of the makeshift stone wall, he held his ground as the people still fled behind him.

And then there had been _that stupid man_. The foolish stranger who had stood beside him, pushing against the marble, urging him to run. Begging him, in fact. “I’ve got this! You _need_ to run! I’ve _got_ this! PLEASE!”

How courageously foolish _that man_ had been. He was just a human, after all. He could not have held the stone. He could not have survived that heat and so Quinlan had ignored him, even as the lava had began to eat through the flesh of his arms, even as the man had pleaded with him _so very desperately_. “I have this! I PROMISE YOU! PLEASE GO!”

The instant before Quinlan gave in to this inevitable death, when his body was turning to ash and there was no strength left, he had turned to face this foolish companion. He would always remember the man’s last words: “ _Foolish boy_ ”. He would often think how useless of a sacrifice that stranger’s life had been. How flawed the man had been to give up everything for _him_. _The desperation and tears and need to save … a stranger_.

But this man’s face wasn’t Raum’s, but … _the eyes_ and … the _tears_. And it hadn’t seemed too strange before now. He had assumed the heat had played tricks on his eyes, but the man hadn’t been burned. When he turned to him, the moment before the dhampir’s death, even as Quinlan’s skin was cooking, the man had remained untouched by the fire.

There were more instances. More strangers. More faces. More memories. _Damnation_. 

> **_The Ripuarian Frank of the_ _[Battle of Tolbiac … 496 AD](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FBattle_of_Tolbiac&t=YjI2ZDk5OWM4N2IxZjgxZTA5OTZhMWJmMTY3YmNiOGYzYWJhOWZjNixJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1)_**
> 
> **_The Merchant in Venice … 752 AD_ **
> 
> **_The Fortuitous Sniper in the Allied advance to Rome … 1943 AD_ **

And more …

As the Marid placed his boot on the skull of his last victim and jerked his curved blade free of the bone, Quinlan tilted his head to the side, the words nearly catching in his throat. “We have _met_ before … _haven’t we, Raum the Merciful_?”

Raum grinned. His overly handsome features shining as he flashed his all too perfect teeth. Oh how Quinlan unfairly despised him in this moment. “Many times, _my boy_. So very many times.” As he walked by, he slapped Quinlan on the shoulder, a condescending gesture that the dhampir was quickly tiring of. “ _I’ve been protecting you since the night you were born._ ”

 

* * *

 

It was a maze and the blind man led the way. Through miles of tunnels, they finally came to the massive circular staircase carved into the stone around them. Its diameter easily greater than several hundred feet across. Glancing over the edge, Quinlan could see no end to its direction downwards, but there _was_ light coming from a great distance above and as they began the long walk up, the more stairs they covered, the stronger his _dragonfly’s_ beacon called to him.

Adam never really stopped speaking and his intrusion into Quinlan’s mind was quite often, answering questions that the dhampir had never actually voiced. The prophet had assured him it was something unconscious, something he could not help, and he picked up on the flicker of hope instantly. “The higher we climb from the depths of the pit, the more aligned with Earthly time we become.”

“The more aligned? Time in hell is variable?”

“Yes. Whereas Heaven’s gears move slower than Earth’s, Hells’ rotates _much_ faster. And it only gets faster the deeper you go.”

“So how much time is passing on Earth at this moment?” They had taken quite a long time to get this far and his worry grew with each lingering moment spent here.

“At this level? Days here are less than a single _second_ there.” Adam explained. “When we get to the top of the pit, to the Gate, it will be minutes _to_ seconds. Nearly one to one, I believe.”

Quinlan glanced down again, unto the vast darkness below. “Is there a _bottom_ to it?”

“Yes.” This answer came sharply from Persephone, as she pushed passed them with annoyance. “ _There is a fucking bottom_.”

Hmmm.

“ _The Cells_ are at the bottom. Tartarus is the _Center of Hell_.”

“Hmmm.” This question seemed to bother everyone and when no one offered more information, Quinlan shook off the curiosity and proceeded ahead.

 

* * *

 

They stared down into the massive entry chamber from an inconspicuous cliff high above. The vantage point was quite ideal as it was Adam who suggested it. They could see the entire gates and the impossible escape that confronted them.

There were two _massive_ doors. An inner and an outer.

The inner one swayed and flickered. Adam explained that it was made of _pure_ divinity and was located on the _Hell_ side of the breach. Something Lucifer had installed himself as soon as he had taken sanctuary here. A way to ensure his brothers could be kept out of his sanctuary. This was a single panel that slid _down_ in front of the real doors.

The outer doors seemed entirely solid and the metal shined with a variety of hues just like the Celestial Blade. The etchings that were carved into the massive panels reminded him of two things, the second of which brought a sad smile to his face. They were carved with intricate swirls of vines, organic and wild. All manner of creatures and _familiar_ insects, danced across its beautiful surface. These curves, these _swirls_ , like those upon his neck, were the same patterns carved into the Celestial Staff and the very same ones that Dawn had drawn into her _Sun Stik_.

He played over those first few memories of their initial meeting with equal parts regret and nostalgia. He wondered if she already _knew_ she was actually recreating Raphael’s staff when she made her clever little weapon. Wondering how much of _everything_ she knew, he looked forward to finding out, because he hoped he could be the one to filling in the gaps. He played over the possibilities of her expressions of the stories he planned to recant.

No. Not right now. Adam gripped his shoulder as Quinlan pushed this playful distraction to the side, tried to focus on the task at hand as there would be _no future_ like that if they were not able to escape.

These doors, the outer ones, were obviously made by _God_ himself and were _very_ solid, existing on the _Earth_ side of the gateway. The doors were two halves, opening down the center and _towards_ Earth.

In between the sets of doors was _the veil_. The point at which Hell spilled into Earth, or vice versa. And it was vertical wall of _water_ , thousands of feet high. Water has always been the gateway between the worlds and since the Gate to Hell opened into Lake Baikal, it did make sense.

And then there was the _army_. Quinlan had only seen one other army that compared to the site before him now, and that had been in _Heaven_. Millions stood in perfect order below, making it impossible for them to sneak into their midst. At first, he assumed they were standing entirely still. Fallen Djinn. Marid. Ifrit. Ghoul. Sila. Vetala. Fallen Bene Elohim. And men. _Many men._ Some of the most _wicked_ of human souls he imagined and he wondered how many he had put here himself. He was about to ask why the army waited, but then the ranks suddenly took one massive step forward, in glorious unison.

“It’s the time misalignment. They can only move as fast as time on Earth permits. They can’t just flood through, though more than half have already crossed the veil.” Adam explained Quinlan’s unspoken question while they ogled the opposition. “Transitioning between the two takes time. It will be hours–” Adam stopped, tilted his head and nodded, seeming to hear something. “Right. Right. There’s really no need to be _that_ pedantic. They don’t need to know–” Adam sighed and shook his head, conceding to something unseen. “Fine. Whatever.” He waved his hand in the air. “Fine. _FINE_. I’ll tell them. The army will be through in eleven hours, and forty-two minutes.” Adam paused. “… and twelve seconds.”

This did seem like pointlessly accurate information, but no one complained as they looked upon the feat with despair. “Eleven hours. So we wait?” Raum shook his head. “It’s not possible. Even if Kore _could_ fly …” She sneered at his insult, but said nothing as he continued.

“No.” Adam said. “The Traveller _will_ close the gate and the Morning Star _will_ be thrust back into Hell. It is already foreseen. We _must_ get out before then.”

“Great.” Raum laughed. “So what you’re saying is … we’re fucked?”

“You’re the one who wanted to show them.” Adam snickered lowly to himself. “I told you it would just be _discouraging_ and _not_ inspiring. You’re growing mad in your old age.”

They stared quietly and Quinlan began to assess the situation as carefully as he could. “So, what controls the gate?” Quinlan turned to Adam. “So how does it all work?”

“The outer gate can only be shut or opened by the divinity of High Hayyoth. But the inner gate is controlled from the Tower.” Adam stared at the ground as he pointed across to the opposite side of the vast chamber where buildings were carved directly into the stone, curving up and following the slant of the cave walls entirely over the pit itself in an inverse palace of sort. “You remember it?”

“Yes.” Quinlan nodded. “That is where I leapt into the pit.”

“And what a leap it _was_ child.” Adam grinned. “That is the belly of The Rainbow Keep.” Pointing to the top of Lucifer’s gate, Adam pointed to the light that seemed to _hook_ to its top. It trailed across the ceiling of the chamber like a spiderweb, meandering over the rocks and crevices until it disappeared into the overhanging carved structure. “He holds it open from there, using the pool of his own divinity. It is guarded by _The Merciless_ … ” Adam hesitated for a reason unbeknownst to Quinlan, seeming to treat the disclosure as sensitive information “ _Satan_.”

“Satan, himself? _That’s … wonderful_.” Quinlan stated sarcastically.

“Don’t worry. He’s _just_ a _Marid_. His legend exaggerates his power.” Persephone scoffed.

“Hmmm. Wait, Lucifer’s own divinity?” The dhampir cocked his head. “How is that possible? He is on _Earth_ , I assure you.”

“His spirit may _stretch_ there …” Adam shook his head slowly. “But he is still rooted here. As is his doorway _into_ Dawn.”

The dhampir couldn’t help the growling sneer that escaped from his lifting upper lip. _Into Dawn_. “So how does it close? Can it be used to crush the army? Is there any way we can tear it from its hinges?”

“Doubtful. It would take quite a force to rip it from its tracks. Besides, if they get _wind_ of us, that _entire_ army will descend. There is no doubt they will close the gate rather than let us escape.” Adam stated. “The veins can be severed from the control room. But that is where Satan waits. The guards in the tower are not like the ones you’ve dispatched with ease.”

“Hmmm. Then we must remove _Satan_ from play.” Quinlan nodded, looking at the structure again before glancing to the _Marid_. “That will need to be a very … _surgical_ … operation.”

“I will do it. _Shaitan_ and I have … _unfinished business_.” Raum said gravely. “Leave _The Merciless_ to me.”

Quinlan detected a hint of fury. “What history have you with this _fallen Djinn_?”

“They are brothers.” Persephone uttered.

“History?” Raum feigned a disgusted laugh as he took a deep breath before locking shameful eyes with the dhampir. “I will make sure the gate stays open long enough for you all to flee.”

“Raum …” Quinlan had _no intention_ of leaving anyone behind. “I cannot allow–”

“I’ve no Qliphoth to return to. There is no point for me to return. I would be a _lost spirit_.”

“I believe that fate would be better than any which might await you here.” Quinlan fought. If he had been asked back in Puragatorium, he would have gladly left Raum here, but now …

“ _Regardless_ of who keeps the gate open, the rest will need quite a massive distraction to make it to the veil, no?” Adam interrupted the impending argument of self sacrifice.

“What of _your_ souls of Purgatorium? How many souls are there?” Quinlan asked, turning to Persephone, but she was already shaking her head at his suggestion. “Can we not use them as an _army_ of our own? Or perhaps, at the very least, a _distraction_? Perhaps I can make the _tear_ bigger?”

“No. Those souls are _not_ mine and they are _useless_.” She refused. “ _Broken, lost, and useless._ That’s why they are _there_ and not _here_.” She waved a hand at the army. “Those who _can_ fight, those capable of being useful, already wear the Serpent’s armour. They’ve already _pledged_ their souls to him.”

“But he is not here and you _can_ control them.” Quinlan argued even as she shook her head again and again. “ _Reprogram_ them just as you _tried_ to do to me. All we need are their numbers.”

“She is right. They are … _broken_ , full of despair. They can be of no use to us.” Adam interjected. “Besides, Lucifer has his fingers into every single human soul in Hell.”

“No, your logic is not sound. My soul is human.” He sneered at their argument. “I was _lost_ and _broken_ , just the same as _they_.”

“Your soul is _human_ , yes, but it is _bathed_ in the divinity of Ozryel. Soaked in it. You are _nothing_ like they are. You cannot be owned as _they_ are.”

“Obviously.” Persephone giggled at the statement.

“ _But their numbers_ …” Quinlan wasn’t ready to give up the hope of a plan. “I still believe, if anything, they can be used as a distraction. They don’t need to be fighters. Surely they can be persuaded–”

“No.” Adam would not hear of it. “They are all too _lost_ to be _useful_.” Adam agreed with _her_. “They are not soldiers. Not warriors. That is why they are there … Lucifer could not _use_ them _directly_ in his army. They will _not_ be your lambs to the slaughter.” _Directly_? Hmmm. The last bit of sentence trailed off and Adam tensed. Something was particularly strange about the statement but Quinlan shelved it for later. “But …”

“But?” _Hope sparked._

“You are _right_.” Adam nodded. “We _cannot_ do this _alone_. We need help.”

“ _Lucifer is a tyrant._ ” The statement was fact. Raum had been unusually quiet as the conversation had ensued. He had been staring out into the army, carefully cataloguing everything and _everyone_.

“Clearly.” Quinlan shifted and tried to read the Djinn’s stern face.

“Tyrants, by the very nature of their actions, inevitably leave a _useful_ byproduct in their mad wake.” Raum squinted out across the army before he turned back to the tiny group. “ _All tyrants do_.”

“Byproduct?” Quinlan so hated being in the dark. “And what is _that_?”

“ _Enemies, Quintus_.” Raum stated, plain as fact, his eyes pawing over the army again. “Enemies.” He turned to Adam. “Tell me, Oh Great Prophet of the _Lord_ … Where are the _rest_ of _my_ men? Are they destroyed?”

 _His men_. Quinlan could feel the _hope_ that now emanated from the _Djinn_ duke. Something had changed in his demeanour and when Adam smiled next, excitement danced across the dhampir.

 _His men_ …

“We’ve been waiting for you to notice, Merciful One.” Adam stood and pointed his makeshift staff back towards the pit. “ _The Rebellious Ones_. The Ones who refused to bow. Not to God … and _not to the Morning Star_. They are in the _Ninth Circle_. They are in the cells below.”

“How many?” Quinlan asked at once.

“Enough.” Adam admitted. “ _More than enough_ for a distraction at least …”

Quinlan was already walking back the direction from which they came. When no one immediately moved to follow him, he glanced back, smirking as he did. “Well? _Are we going?_ We’re here to _start a revolution_ … are we not?”

 

* * *

 

**[The Guardian (feat. Sourc3) - Daniel Deluxe](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F2AmS9yzykD8LGZxeYPC2eX%3Fsi%3DjxNlSKMFTj6Ds3ukV7cS2g&t=NDI2MmQ4Y2E4Y2I5ZmJhYmQwNGQyNzU2M2VkZmM4MzU4ODM4Mzg3NCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

> _There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths_
> 
> _And now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through_
> 
> _When that happens, the man who knows must strike_

She stepped forward, pushing everyone else aside and allowed Raphael to urge her on as everything began to spin again as the Traveller watched quietly from behind. Time flowed _again_ and the Morning Star downed her _again_.

 _Fuck_. He hits damn _hard_.

“Enough!” She said to _all_ her uncles present, stopping them from stepping forward en masse. Dusting herself off, she cracked her head from side to side and glared at EL. “Ok. Round _three_ , asshole.”

“I’m waiting …” EL returned the stare. In this moment, she envied his fangs, she was certain he looked far more menacing than she did. His palm was up and his index finger beckoned her to approach. “Bring it, _little girl_ … cause I’ve got _shit_ to do …”

Dawn squinted at the Morning Star and then, from within her conscience, she pointed to Gabriel. “You. You first.”

There was no hesitation on the Messenger’s part and he stepped forward, thrusting his chest out, billowing with pride, but warning as he did. “He’s too _fast_ for me, _little one_.”

“That’s ok.” She looked up in the towering warrior’s eyes. “He ain’t _faster_ than me.” Dawn beamed. “ _Ready?_ ”

Everything slowed around them and even as EL tried to charge through the change in speed to compensate for her power, Gabriel smiled, stepping all the way in control. “ _Yes ma’am._ ” He was quick to come to terms with her statement. _No one here was faster than her_.

_Courage._

* * *

It wound down and down _and down_. The air became dank, unpleasant odors stagnant in the dead air. As they descended, gravity and _time_ seemed to weigh them down. Quinlan thought the journey _up_ had been tedious, but it was nothing compared to this. They walked for what seemed like days or possibly even weeks? He was certain it had been longer but time was strange. It flickered back and forth but they kept the pace brisk and the circumference of the spiralling stairs slowly become smaller and smaller as they descended deeper. Hundreds of miles? Thousands? Possibly _more_?

And there was no need to rest in Hell. No need to stop. To sleep. To even pause for just a simple moment to break up the monotony of the task had it not been for Adam’s incessant words. At first, he had found the prophet’s ramblings annoying, but now, as time stretched endlessly before them, Quinlan found they were the one thing keeping them all sane.

And the Prophet spoke of _many, many_ things. He explained to Quinlan much that Persephone and Raum already knew. Some things Sempronius had mentioned and others that were entirely new to him. And Adam started very broad, at the _very beginning of it all_ …

_**[“In the beginning, many celestial beings were created. Beings other than Man and as stated in the Lumen, there were seventeen total. The First numbered five, but later became four and then three. Created and imbued with power like none other. Each burned with their own fountain of divinity. Together they formed the basis of The Nexus, becoming the source of its unending divine influence for those who came after. They surrounded the Throne of the Creator as a tetramorph. Ozyrel to the right, Michael to the left, Gabriel in the front, and Raphael in the back …”](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21599504&t=MDBiNGQ3NDQ5YWYyMDY2YWU3Zjc2ZDg5NjFmODE1ODcwNDU3MDdmNSxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) ** _

He detailed the many wars of Earth and Heaven _and Hell_. He talked of the fall of Lucifer, the fall of Ozryel, and the fall of Raphael. He explained the order of all the divine beings …

_**“[Of the first brood of Angels, there were five, endowed with divinity like none other. Due to this difference, they were given the grand title of Arch, as their power and leadership would encompass all those beneath them. They would be the chieftains of their kind and thus all would respect, fear, and bow to their will …](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572%2Fchapters%2F21058649&t=MjBlNjI4YjQ4M2RjMGNjNDQ5ZDNmNjIyM2RlOTkwMTM3MWVkOGJiMCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1)”** _

His recounted tales from his many lives, though he would never mention the _first_ of them. Quinlan had asked at one point about being _Adam_ and how he became blind, but was met with a prolonged silence that rattled him.

Of all the great stories uttered by the Prophet, the one that struck the dhampir the most was the one that Adam himself seemed to loved like none other: it was his lifetime as _Two Rivers_ , the Great Peace Keeper of the Iroquois nation. It wasn’t just for the accomplishments of that _life_ nor the friendship with Hinon which he openly admitted to missing desperately. It was the _love_ that he felt and the _woman_ who he assured awaited him in Heaven.

“She was a _new soul_ … I could almost see it in the way she looked at the world, but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I didn’t remember who I was then.” Adam said. “[Jigonhsasee](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FJigonhsasee&t=ZGMxNzUzNWVlMjkxODEyZGNjOWVjNGQyZDgwNWQ3NjNiZjQ2YjAzOSxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1). She lived along the warriors’ path. She was My Mother of Nations … _is_. _She is._ She awaits my return.”

“And what of _Eve_?” Quinlan had finally pressed again, expecting that Adam would grow silent again, but the prophet _laughed_ out loud.

“Eve.” The sigh was dramatic. “Eve was _promised_ to me. Given as a gift, or rather, a _task_. There was _no choice_ in that for her.” Quinlan thought of Tasa in this moment. “… and truth be told, _not_ for me either. We tolerated each other, eventually caring for one another.” The dhampir’s love of the dark haired woman had come _eventually_. “But love is _wild_. It’s very nature is organic. It needs to be because it has to _grow_ and it _must_ be free to do so to reach its full potential. And just like any living thing, while it _can_ be cultivated and _curated_ , that control only limits its possibility. There is _no garden on Earth, however well maintained or manicured or beautiful on the surface,_ that can ever be truly compared to _jungle_ or a _forest_ … or even a _desert_.” The passion oozed from his words.

“You will see her again.” Quinlan was _certain_. He made the promise, even though it seemed foolish but Adam accepted and appreciated it just the same.

“Yes. I _hope_ so too. For I have _much_ to tell her. And … from our _great_ love, came the last _known_ prophet: _She Who Hears The Dead_.”

Adam came to _Hathu’s_ tale and the subsequent fall of Michael, all of which had _never_ crossed the ears of Persephone nor Raum. They listened, quiet but eager to know, and _then_ , Adam came to Dawn’s tale. Much to Quinlan’s relief, the prophet left out _most_ of the more _private_ details.

“Lucifer has been watching her since she was born. He had her ear when she was young, before Michael … _diminished_ her.”

“And of course _The Lord_ knew what was coming for her … and yet did nothing.” Raum scoffed at the Prophet, the first true hints of his defiance to the _Command_ hinted through his annoyance. “He set her on a path like a _lamb_ to the _slaughter_. He delivered her into the arms of Hell with a smile on his face. I’ve heard enough.” The Djinn pushed ahead, jumping several steps down as he put distance between himself and the Prophet.

“He’s such a _hot head_ , isn’t he?” Persephone’s joke fell on deaf ears and she shrugged. “You guys are no fun …”

Quinlan growled lowly, whispering to the Prophet. “He thinks he _loves_ her.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think _he does not know her_.”

“And how well had you known her before _you_ felt _it_?” Hmmm. Quinlan didn’t feel like answering that question as he wasn’t certain exactly how much time she had spent with Raum in Hell before he arrived and Adam shook his head at the juvenile jealousy. “Don’t be too hard on him, Quintus. Remember. Hell uses your _emotions_ against you. It contorts them, attempts to mold them. And Raum … Raum has spent thousands of years, at the cost of _everything_. His family. His men. _His brother_. His _home_. Sacrificing it all in service to the _prophecy of a child_ …” Adam placed a hand on Quinlan shoulder, encouraging them to walk as they talked. “Of course he feels something for her. It’s likely not what he assumes.”

“So, it’s not love. Its _responsibility_?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t but … His life has been spent in servitude to _this prophecy_. Responsibility. _Duty_. Protection. These are among the most powerful of feelings for a _Djinn_. I think it’s possible that they are ones that can easily be confused with _love_ …”

“Hmmmm. Possible?” Quinlan sneered again.

Adam leaned in, speaking very lowly. “Between the _three_ of us? No, we do not think he does.”

“Good.” Relief washed over the dhampir and a tiny grin crept upon the very corner of his mouth. “I’d hate to _have_ to kill him.”

“Well … _Yet_.” The prophet shrugged. “We’re not saying that it couldn’t be _cultivated_ into love though. That is … if you were to ever … _step out of line again_.”

Quinlan almost asked what Adam was referring to, but the overly amused face of the prophet told him that he should drop the subject entirely, lest he be subjected to something terribly embarrassing being uttered out loud. “But … Raum is not wrong. You … _he_ … knew all of this was coming. Everything and yet you did nothing to _warn_ her. _Your Lord_ did nothing to _warn her_? You are all complicit in this _war_.”

“Yes, we are. You have to understand, Quintus.” Adam admitted it without an ounce of regret. “God agreed to aid in _this_. He agreed to listen to _Lilith_ and he agreed to step back because of the _possibility_ of bringing The Morning Star back from the _brink_.”

“Lucifer? He still thinks Lucifer can be _redeemed_?! I get the impression he does _love_ his _tainted son_ more than–”

The interruption was swift. “We _all_ have taint, do we not? You know this better than most. We are _all_ his tainted sons. But did not fall into the _same_ hole that Lucifer did. There is no _more_ or _less_ love. God does not _love_ one more than the _other_. _He has faith_. As much in _her_ as he does in _him_.” Adam sighed. “She was not _warned_ , **_because it was her light that was always meant to shine on him, to breathe life back into him._** To _pull_ him back. He could never relate to his brothers. And as she is learning, at this _very instant actually_ , she is more like _The Morning Star_ than she is even like Michael.”

“I apologize if I fail to see _any_ similarities.”

“None of this is _about_ stopping Lucifer. If you think it was, then you’ve missed the point of it all. It is about _saving_ him.”

Quinlan was unsure what to make of this statement and he was glad Raum hadn’t heard any of it. The _Djinn_ would have likely not responded as _calmly_ as Quinlan did. “Some souls _should not_ be saved.”

“ _There is no soul beyond redemption_.”

 

* * *

 

For the last mile or so, the circle of descent had grown tighter and tighter at a much faster rate than above, and doors and offshoots to long hallways had started to line the walls of the stairwell. _Tens of thousands of them_.

“What is this place?” Quinlan’s body flooded with bumps of disdain as he asked, but he already knew that answer. It was quite obvious what this was. Each door that was passed, carried with it its own flavor of terrible noises. Chains being pulled across stone floors. Bones cracking. Whips striking. Screams and cries and sobs. Wails of anguish, some unlike any he had ever heard and others, all too familiar.

Tartarus.

These noises alone were enough to send shudders down _his_ spine. _His spine_. The dhampir who had been through countless wars. Taking countless lives. He had rent heads from victims with his bare hands. He had disembowelled dozens of men alive, but even that, had not prepared him for the terrors of punishments carried out in the ninth circle.

“This place is _torment_. The souls he could not control. Those that would _not_ submit to him or those who defied him. And those … _too dangerous_ … for even _him_ to trust.”

“Why not just extinguish them?”

“Toys. Pets. He keeps them to suffer as _message_ to any other dissenters.” Persephone explained. “For centuries, this … became a _hobby_ of his … before he grew bored of _even_ it. He grows bored of _everything_.”

Quinlan glanced to Adam and scoffed. “Redemption huh?”

Ignoring the comment, the Prophet pointed down a hallway and waved them into it. “The Rebellious Ones are this way.”

Everyone but Persephone stepped forward and Raum was several feet down the corridor before Adam commented on her hesitation. “Sister?”

“You know we can’t do this on our own.” Persephone’s tone was more than just a bit concerning. Quinlan knew this tone; she was preparing to _manipulate_. “Even with this … _handful_ of _naughty Djinn. We go to our slaughter. We’ll need more help than just this_.” She lingered, shuffling about as she fussed with her fingers nervously.

Raum glanced back. “What did you have in–” But something struck him as they stared at each other for a quiet moment, her lips pinching together and he _knew_ what she had in mind. “No.” The _Marid_ shook his head as he pointed a menacing index finger towards her, wagging it slightly as if she was a dog. “No.”

“None of _you_ have physical forms. _Did you see the size of that gate_?! You expect _me_ to deal with it by myself?!”

“No.” Raum refused again, shaking his head not just once, but twice and then three times. “That’s madness. We’re _not_ doing that.”

“What is going–” Quinlan tried to ask for clarification, but their argument continued over top of his words.

“You _know_ we don’t stand a chance by ourselves.” She tried.

“NO.” The burgeoning panic in the _Djinn’s_ voice was clear. “Absolutely not.”

“What are we argu–” Quinlan raised his voice, but was once again interrupted.

“And I’m _not_ strong enough on my own. I don’t wish to be here when the Morning Star returns. You–”

“Persephone. NO.” Raum threw his hands up, looking at Quinlan for aid in the discussion, but the dhampir wasn’t sure what they were even arguing over yet. “I wondered why you were being _so quiet_!”

“PLEASE!” Quinlan had had enough and his scream echoed against the stone walls. “What on Earth are we talking about?!?”

It was not Persephone nor Raum who answered. The answer was stated matter-of-factly and Quinlan turned to the blind man who spoke it. “She wishes to free … _The Prisoner_.”

“The _Prisoner_?” Surely they were down here to free _many_ prisoners, were they not?

“ _The First Prisoner._ ” Adam clarified. “She wishes to free _The Face of God_.”

“Face of … _God_?” Quinlan squinted at the prophet, tilting his head from side to side. What a peculiar thing to say. Isn’t the _Face of God_ a _thing_? Isn’t the _Face of God_ sunlight? “How does one _free_ light itself? What am I missing?”

“The _Face of God_ isn’t the light, Quintus.” Adam corrected. “It’s _the power_ from which the light emanates. The power of the atom.”

“Yes. I am aware of this, but I do _not_ follow what you wish to do and we are _wasting_ time!” His frustration began to mount and he squeezed his fists. “You wish to use a nuclear blast to _destroy_ the army then? If there is an atomic power we can use, this sounds like it would be a good possibility.”

“No, Quintus. It is _so much_ worse than that.” Raum shook his head. “She wants to free _her brother_.”

“ _Seraphim Prime_. The Fire Rebel.” Adam leaned on his staff, listening to the air around him without further word.

“Her … _brother_ … “ Ozryel’s parting warning danced across the dhampir’s mind. “Who is …” Yet somehow, this answer was painfully obvious as he pawed through the clues. A well known prisoner of Hell. The first. The _first_ Seraphim. The _first_ phoenix. The _first_ to rebel. An ancient immortal god of fire. No, _not just a god_. _A titan_. Quinlan cocked his head to the right as he addressed the all-too-quiet Adam. “There is power in _five_ , is there not?”

“Wait …” Raum wasn’t sure how quickly he had lost control of the decision. “No. Not _you_ too. Good lord _no_. This is _not_ a good idea!” He spun to the Prophet. “What says _God_? He _put_ him there. He _created_ this place _FOR HIM_. This is madness!”

“God is …” Adam listened and then shrugged, pursing his lips innocently. “Strangely _quiet_ on the subject.”

“Then it is settled.” Quinlan smirked, raising an eyebrow to Persephone. “Let us free [Prometheus](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FPrometheus&t=MWM2ODg2YzhlMDMxNzYzNDRmYzE2NDU1MDY3NzRhODMyZmNkZjkxZSxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1).”

 

* * *

 

**[Cut - Miranda Sex Garden](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F1MKqxiWVy5eEs5xNrWxZt8%3Fsi%3DCkY5MRVmTviJs4n3vsnjKQ&t=MmY3YTZlMTkyOWMxMzU0NzAyZjJkZDczMGJhZWY4NTkzYWJhODFiMyxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

Raum boycotted the plan entirely, even refusing to follow them to the bottom. Angry about the decision, he instead set about to freeing his brethren, patting Quinlan on the shoulder again before they parted. “Well, it was _nice_ knowing you, boy. I’ll be sure to tell _Dawn_ you died foolishly. Don’t worry. I promise she’ll be well cared for.”

He said it to anger Quinlan and there was very nearly a fight, but Persephone diffused the situation, laying her hand on the dhampir’s back and urging him down the stairs further. “Later, lover boy. Later. He’s just pushing buttons.”

As they walked, Adam spoke.

“You see, Hell is not _just_ a hole. It is an impact crater. Created when God cast Prometheus from Earth. This prison was _built_ specifically for him. That is why it _burns_ so hot.”

“And he still remains _quiet_ on whether we should allow him freedom?”

“He remains …” Adam nearly snorted. “Silent on the matter.”

That was either good or _very, very bad_. Either way, he pushed the doubt from his mind. “Tell me more of _him_.” Quinlan asked as they approached the bottom and the air began to heat. “Tell me of Prometheus.”

“Depending on how you choose to define the moment of life, whether it is the moment you are created or the moment you draw breath, some consider Prometheus to be older than Lucifer himself. After the four were born, two pairs of two, the Great Spirit nearly turned its attention from the nest, before it noticed yet another, who had been hidden under the others. His frail little body, smaller than any of his brothers, lay there, unmoving.”

“He was stillborn?”

“Oh yes. And they all sat, watchful over the smaller of the creations and when all hope was beginning to extinguish, the Great Spirit created **_the light_** to gaze upon him closer and the being sparked to life suddenly … fantastically.”

“Which being?” Quinlan asked. “The Light Bringer or the Light?”

“ _Clever boy_. You see, they called Lucifer the Light Bringer because it was _for him_ that God created the light. In his haste to save this child, already weak from creating the four and without thinking of consequence, without _knowing_ consequence, without even the slightest _[forethought](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FPrometheus%23Etymology&t=ZTA0YmRkYjYxMDU4MDM0NTU4YWYyYWM5YjZhYmQ2OTA5MmJhNGZmNyxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1)_ , God created _The Light_. He had no idea that **_it_** would _draw breath_ itself.”

“A living, breathing _sun_.” Quinlan followed the story.

“The first of the elementals. The very first of the _Seraphim_. The first of the _Phoenix_. Creature of such absolute fire. But it was a fire of destruction _and_ of life. Absolutely immortal. Unburnable. Undestroyable. A supreme trickster. He was the _first_ to ever defy God’s command. Prometheus breathed life into the Morning Star that first day.”

“And it was for _that_ that he was punished?”

“Oh no. No. No. His punishment was for giving man the _celestial fire_. He gave them the power of the atom. Tried to show them how to harness it long … _long_ … before the _Shards_ of Ozryel would give it to _men_ again.”

“So _Ozryel_ committed the exact same sin that she punished Prometheus for?” Quinlan shook his head. “Her hypocrisy truly knows no bounds.”

“Heh. _Poetic_ right? But I assure you, it was the _opposite_ of hypocrisy. It was _very_ calculated. The Six Shards were tired; they’d grown so weary of their exile. Your uncles wished an end to the monotony of being scattered, no matter what the cost might be. And so they commited the worst defilement against Heaven imaginable. They broke his most _sacred_ rule, expecting … in fact _hoping_ … God would finally come for them as he came for the _Titan_.”

A large and burnt door was before them and Quinlan found it remarkably boring. If this was built by Ozryel, then obviously she created it in a hurry. Quinlan found this possibility slightly concerning.

Persephone stepped forward, almost unable to hide her excitement. “All I need is for you to open the door and I will retrieve my wayward brother.” She offered. “He’ll _listen_ to me. He’s the entire reason I came here.”

“You came here for _Prometheus_?” Quinlan doubted the statement. “According to legend, you are here because The Lord tricked you.”

“Psh.” She snorted. “Someone tricked someone, but apparently not very well. Clearly _My Fair Lord_ didn’t take too _kindly_ to being used.” Shrugging innocently, she grinned. “Did you never wonder why I was locked away?”

“Hmmm. I thought you said he _grows_ bored of everything?”

“No one _grows bored_ of me.” It was a sneer and then the subject was changed as she began again. “But you should really allow me to go–”

“No. It _must_ be Quintus.” Adam took a deep breath. “He must break the chains. Only he can do so.”

“He doesn’t understand. Theus can burn souls from existence.” Persephone argued. “And you look _just_ like _the architect of his infinite agony_. You even _smell_ of Ozryel.”

“Yes. I am _very_ aware of that fact. _This_ is exactly _why_ it has to be _me_. She did this to him and now I must _undo_ it.”

Adam nodded to him as the prophet read the words lingering quietly on the forefront of the dhampir’s mind.

 _There is no soul beyond redemption_.

 

* * *

 

**[Waking Up The Giants - Grizfolk](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F4yb3ikgJkgBNTSkGm2Lvhz&t=NDEyOWEyMzY0ZmVkYmFlODNhNDJiMDk2YTlkYzRlMDMzMzJkNzdhNCxJa21tcWdEUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178020832333%2Fchapter-133-redemption&m=1) **

> _Careful waking up the giants_
> 
> _He’s a big man and a better man than I am_
> 
> _He’ll rise up when we hear the sirens_
> 
> _Where’s the truth when your heart’s not lying?_
> 
> _I believe that the end’s not dying_
> 
> _I only listen to the wind when it’s crying_
> 
> _We’re the rhythm of the darkest nights_
> 
> _We’re the truth that’s been left unspoken_
> 
> _We’re the shadows far beyond the lights_
> 
> _We’re waking, waking, waking up the giants_
> 
> _Sail away, the water’s rising_
> 
> _Leaving our progress behind us_
> 
> _Right before we fail, we’ll find it_
> 
> _Right behind the storm it was hiding_

He could feel the heat before he even touched the door. This heat. The fire that drove it from within, he had felt it _once_ before. It had ripped through his body at the moment of his death. But even _that_ had seemed dull compared to _this_ and he swallowed deep. He disliked fire and being burned. There was a brief hesitation as he reached for the already smoking door handle.

##  **_Hope_.**

The thought of that word danced across his mind, tip-toeing over the doubts as he gripped the knob and tried the massive door, finding it locked.

##  **_Hope_.**

Quinlan gripped the handle and felt into its source. He grinned as he touched the _silver_ divinity that was holding the lock in place and his eyes closed with relief as the energy surrendered to him without even a fight. Ozryel’s divinity was its key and _his soul was bathed in it_. This lock was _built_ for him and God _knew_ it. The door clicked open.

##  **_Hope_.**

He remembered her warning. Her very last words before his soul was consumed by damnation.

_There are two you should fear._

Her voice rattled in his mind and he pawed over the words, seeking ultimate meaning. But why had she warned him about someone that was hopelessly locked away? Someone who was hidden behind a cell that only _he_ could open? There was no doubt Lucifer could have opened this lock, but she hadn’t been concerned about her little brother letting the fire god out; in fact, she had stated as much.

_The first shan’t be a problem. I chained him up myself._

In fact, as he followed the spiraling stone stairs which hugged the circular walls of the chamber _downwards_ , to the very, very center of the pit, he thought far too much of Ozryel to accept that simplistic explanation. She hadn’t been _warning_ him at all, had she? In fact, she had no reason to even _mention_ The Prisoner, that is, unless she was _hinting_ at something. Lucifer could have pulled everything he wanted from the dhampir’s mind and she had veiled a plan in her _rushed_ warning. She, and by proxy _he_ , was the only lock to Prometheus’ cage.

##  **_Hope_.**

He _hoped_ that this had actually been her intention …

He _hoped_ Ozryel wasn’t as mad as she appeared or acted …

As he spiraled further down, he _hoped_ this wasn’t a terrible idea …

## His heart was _full_ of hope …

## … until he actually set eyes upon the _Titan_. 

  


  



	123. Art - Ozryel

 

##  **Ozryel, The Angel of Death**

  



End file.
